Work Text:
namjoon
hey jimin
can you cover for me
mini
sure hyung
what is it?
namjoon
yoongi-hyung and i are going on a date tomorrow for our 10 year anniversary
it’s at the arcade we used to go to in high school
i’m going to practice the basketball game
so i can woo him with my skills
i need you to tell him i’m off with you and taehyung or something
mini
you’re such a nerd.
you’re going to study for your date
this really does bring me back ;))
namjoon
THAT WAS ONE TIME
so are you going to help me or not
mini
yes, hyung, i’ll come up with a believable lie
it won’t be us and tae tho
that’s too suspicious, seeing as you
constantly complain to him about being
a third wheel whenever it’s just the three
of us
namjoon
why did i ever ask you for help
mini
because you love me 😘
Namjoon snorted as he swiped away the notification for Jimin’s text before pocketing his phone. He took a deep breath and breathed in the scent of greasy pizza mingling with spicy ramyun and the metallic tinge of tokens. Most arcades had switched to cards a while ago, and as Namjoon surveyed the dazzling display of games, all the games in the front of the arcade were card-only too. But in the back, as the horrendous 80s carpet became increasingly faded, there were some of the old games he remembered playing with Yoongi back in high school during their rivalry.
==
“Namjoon-ah,” Yoongi tugged on the arm of Namjoon’s sweatshirt. There was a dangerous glint in his eye that made Namjoon nervous. “One last game?”
He rolled his eyes. “Looking to beat me again, Yoongi-hyung?”
“Not necessarily, although I wouldn’t mind.”
Namjoon wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. For a second, he even considered kissing Yoongi just so that he wouldn’t have to see that insufferable smile.
“Com’on!” Yoongi pulled him along to the area of new games. Rhythm games flashed by, the rainbow colors glowing softly on Yoongi’s skin, catching the excitement in his eyes as they drew closer to the game.
“Hyung, no way! You’re literally the star of the basketball team—they call you ‘Shining Shooting Guard’!” Namjoon objected, backing away.
“I’ve seen you play a pickup game with Hoseok, you’re not that bad, Namjoon-ah,” Yoongi said, annoyed.
“Did you just compliment me?” Namjoon asked incredulously.
“If I did, will you play?”
It was Namjoon’s turn to smirk, and he laughed when Yoongi glared at him for doing so. “Sure, hyung.”
“Fine, then, I complimented you, Namjoon-ah. Now quit being a baby.”
“Ouch, hyung.”
“It’s the truth.”
==
Namjoon chuckled to himself, remembering how skee ball typically ended with Yoongi standing smugly over him as he writhed in pain because Namjoon somehow managed to get hit in the balls with at least one of the skee balls every game. He could usually beat Yoongi at DDR, although that was usually because Yoongi didn’t feel like putting much effort into the game. It was basketball where he truly shined—both on the court and in the arcade.
==
“130! Beat that, hyung!”
Yoongi said nothing and just cracked his knuckles and rolled up his sleeves. Namjoon watched in awe as he made basket after basket, scoring 90 points just in the first quarter. The determination on Yoongi’s face was scary, but strangely alluring. Namjoon couldn’t take his eyes off him. By the end of the second quarter, Yoongi had passed his score.
The final buzzer went off. Yoongi turned around and looked at Namjoon, cocky and proud, the scoreboard reading 210 illuminating him in a red halo. “Just did.”
“I hate you, hyung.”
“I know. But I also know you hate breaking your promises even more, and you promised you’d buy dinner if I beat you in three games, which I just did.”
Namjoon looked down at Yoongi, who was now trying to look innocent—and failing. “Is this your version of aegyo?”
“Do you want a ride home?”
“Hyung, you know I hate riding on that deathtrap of a motorcycle.”
“Fuck you.”
“In your dreams, hyung.”
“More like my nightmares.”
The two of them walked out of the arcade, bickering and hitting each other as they headed towards the cheapest ramyun shop nearby—which Namjoon did pay for—and then towards where Yoongi parked his motorcycle. But before they entered the apartment complex their families lived in, Yoongi hesitated.
“Joon-ah,” Yoongi said quietly. Namjoon couldn’t make out most of his face in the dark, but the edge of his cheek and the corner of his eye glowed yellow from the one light in the parking lot. “I, uh, I need to tell you something.”
He pulled Namjoon close so their torsos were just shy of touching, but before he could say anything, Namjoon leaned down, touching their foreheads together. “I know, Yoongi-hyung.”
Yoongi tipped his head up ever so slightly and parted his mouth. Namjoon closed the distance, kissing Yoongi’s soft lips. They were both experienced enough to know what to do, but all Namjoon could think about was that none of his kisses with girls had ever felt like this—passionate, yes, but also vulnerable in an even more electric way, like an exposed wire in the rain. He’d known Yoongi forever. Most of that time had been fighting, but they also knew each other as much as they knew themselves. Yoongi had gotten into fights countless times on his behalf, and Namjoon had saved Yoongi from fights even more than that. While they got on each other’s nerves, if anyone else said those things to one of them in front of the other, well, it wouldn’t end well. They were enemies, but no one could separate them.
A sudden engine rev broke them apart. The last thing Namjoon saw before the headlights completely blinded him was Yoongi’s panicked face before he ran away.
==
Namjoon walked up to the game counter. “I’d like some tokens, please.”
The cashier, a young college student with long, black hair tied up in a bun, went to grab a cup of tokens from the edge of the counter and accidentally knocked them off. “I’m so sorry!” He bowed at almost a 90-degree angle as he apologized.
Namjoon laughed amicably, “It’s okay! No need to be so formal either, I can’t be that much older than you. I’m a ‘94 liner.”
The cashier visibly relaxed, although he still had a dazed look to him. Kind of adorable, if Namjoon was honest with himself. “I’m a ‘97.”
“Hyung’s fine, then. See you ‘round—”
“Jungkook. You?”
“Namjoon.”
Jungkook bowed again, this time at a much less extreme angle and with a smile that made his eyes light up like stars, “See you, Namjoon-hyung.”
He’s a sweet kid, Namjoon thought as he headed toward the game. Yoongi-hyung would like him, I bet . He smiled at the mental image of Yoongi grumbling like, “Kids these days, so ungrateful. Just because I’m hyung doesn’t mean I’m made of money,” after Jungkook pleaded for food, but giving in with one of his gummy smiles when Namjoon teases him.
They may have been childhood rivals, and anxious high school baby gays, and actually-official-boyfriends for only five years, but Namjoon and Yoongi acted like a married couple. And maybe it was just his absolutely-whipped-husband brain, but Namjoon found himself really wishing Yoongi was there with him, to tease him for practicing for their date, to offer to pick up the tokens Jungkook spilled only to get flustered and say something snarky, to try to win a plushie from the claw machine for himself because he secretly loves them—even though he could do all that tomorrow and it had only been a few hours since Namjoon had seen him.
Stop being soft, Joon. He placed his tokens in the machine, Time to focus so you can beat the love of your life .
the shorter one
yoongi-hyung
namjoon and i are out shopping, just
thought i’d let you know in case
we’re not back by the time you get
home.
i’m helping him find something
sexy for your date tomorrow ;))
min yoongi
jimin-ah
should i be worried?
last time you two went shopping was
when you took him to the sex shop
that was on the first floor of your
apartment building in uni
i still can’t believe that you lived
there, by the way
the shorter one
it was cheap, what can i say?
hey! that was before you two finally
got your heads out of your asses
and got together
besides, from what i heard
you weren’t complaining then ;)))
min yoongi
where are you
i’m gonna kill my husband
the shorter one
kinky, hyung
min yoongi
you’re next
the shorter one
tae will protect me 🥺🥺
min yoongi
actually, he and i made a deal back in uni
the shorter one
my soulmate would never!!
min yoongi
once again
hobi and i are the superior set of soulmates
😌😌😌
Yoongi sighed as he leaned back in his office chair. This song from his latest client required a lot of work—not that it was bad, there were just a lot of small details that needed to be perfect in order for it to sound right. Normally, he’d love this sort of challenge, but tonight, he just wanted to go home and fall asleep in Joon’s arms.
“Busy as ever, Yoongi-yah?” came a voice from the hallway. I must’ve forgotten to close it all the way after lunch , Yoongi thought.
He looked over, “Hyung!” he said, brightening when he saw it was Seokjin. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t recording another mini-album ‘til you’re done shooting that new k-drama?”
“Well, they decided to have me sing something for the soundtrack. I tried to get you to be my producer, but they said you’re tied up with some solo artist from that new BigHit label.”
“Mhm. This kid, his stage name is JK, I haven’t actually met him so I don’t know his full name, just his face. But, anyway, he’s crazy talented—he was scouted by like 6 agencies in high school but he went to college to study photography and music instead. He applied to be a music video director at BigHit but they ended up signing him as a solo artist, since he’s too old to join the boy group.”
“Wow. He sounds like he might be as talented as me.” Seokjin laughed.
Yoongi handed his headphones to Seokjin, “Here, take a listen to his demo. I haven’t let anyone hear it, not even Joon. I love him, but he could not keep this a secret to save his life.”
“Believe me, I’m well aware.” He took the headphones and listened, “You weren't kidding, Yoongi-yah, this kid can seriously sing. I feel like it’s a bit empty, though, some violins would work well with this song.”
“I’ll ask the agency about that, hyung, thanks.”
Seokjin draped himself dramatically on the couch across from Yoongi’s desk. “Should Namjoon be worried that he has competition?”
“Jin-hyung, don’t be ridiculous.” Yoongi threw a pillow at him and plopped, much less gracefully, next to him.
“I’m serious! You were positively glowing, Yoongi-yah. You only get like that when talking about Namjoon—you actually look like you go outside and eat healthy!”
Yoongi threw another pillow at him, “Fuck you, hyung. Get out of my office.”
Seokjin pulled him off the couch. “Come on, Yoongi-yah you need to get out of here. JK’s vocals are going to drown you like a siren if you stay holed up in here, working yourself to death. I have just the thing, too.”
“What?”
“Hyung, why did you drag me to an arcade?”
Seokjin handed him an arcade card. “Your basketball skills need some practice.”
“Excuse me? No they fucking don’t! I’m still perfectly good at basketball, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, but just in case they aren’t—” Seokjin ducked as Yoongi reached to smack his head, “—don’t you want to show Namjoon that tomorrow, for old times sake?”
“Fine, hyung. But you’re going to pay for what you said.”
“But, consider: have I ever steered you wrong when it comes to Namjoon?
==
“Yoongi-yah?” Seokjin sat down next to Yoongi, who was sulking on the bench in the empty locker room.
“What do you want, hyung?”
“You’ve been ignoring Namjoon all day. Did you two have another fight?”
“Hyung, we’re always fighting.”
Seokjin rolled his eyes, “I meant about something that matters, Yoongi-yah.”
“Something happened last night…” Yoongi sighed.
“I know.”
Yoongi’s eyes widened. “What!? Did he tell you—”
“I was the one who saw you two, you idiot.”
“That was you? I’ve been avoiding Joon all day because I thought someone saw
us! I wanted to protect him.” Yoongi buried his face in his hands.
“You really are an idiot,” Seokjin sighed, shaking his head. “You need to talk to him, you know. He’s been worried sick about you, thought that you might’ve regretted last night.”
“I’ll talk to him after practice. He’s usually waiting.”
“Yoongi-yah. I know what ‘talking’ means with you. You grumble an insult and hand them a gift. You need to actually have a conversation with him, about what happened and what’s going to happen between the two of you.”
“Seokjinnie-hyung?” Yoongi let his voice sound small, echoing in the cold, grey room. He couldn’t bear the thought of what might happen—of what he’d do if he lost Namjoon. Namjoon and his stupid fun facts and philosophical discussions. Who dragged Yoongi out of his cynicism and actually got him to do something to make the world a better place, to be a better person. Who was so unapologetically dorky and unathletic with his long, gangly limbs and adorable clumsiness—seriously, he still didn’t know how to tie his shoes—that he was permanently banned from the gym. Namjoon, who might’ve been the only person besides his mom (and Hoseok and Seokjin, who were basically family in his mom’s eyes), he let himself care about. Who he let enter the tiny, soft spot he couldn’t help but have underneath the walls of his stone-cold heart. Namjoon, the only person who actually got him to study and care about doing well in school for a reason other than staying on the basketball team.
Namjoon.
The only person he had ever really loved.
(At least, in the way the books and movies and wedding ring advertisements say you should—something “more” than friendship. Yoongi looked at Seokjin and couldn’t help but think of what he and Hoseok had, how they weren’t “just” friends but were as close as any married couple. What would they say? To Yoongi, marriage was a scam invented to control people, but yet his heart still sped up for Namjoon, at the thought of one day being his and holding each other close as they fell asleep together. Wedding rings were invented by capitalism, but, unfortunately, his feelings were not.)
Seokjin put his arm around Yoongi, “Yeah?”
“I’m scared. I’m not ready to date Namjoon. I think I love him—whatever ‘love’ really means—and I want to kiss him again, God, I want to kiss him again. But I don’t want to come out, yet.” Yoongi hesitated, choosing his words carefully because he didn’t want to share the truth with Seokjin just yet, “I’m not ready for everyone to be discussing whoever’s dick they think I’m sucking. I could care less what they think, but it’s none of their business. And I don’t want a secret relationship, Joon doesn’t deserve that. I don’t know what to do.”
Seokjin ruffled his hair. Yoongi huffed, his annoyed breath catching on his snivel. He hadn’t even realized he was crying. “You can start,” Seokjin stood up and turned the lights on, “by apologizing to him.” He tossed a tangerine at Yoongi.
“Thanks, hyung.” Yoongi whispered.
“Hey, uh, Namjoon-ah.” Yoongi shuffled outside, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.” The humid spring afternoon was a bright grey, just as suffocating as the words stuck in his throat.
“Well, I have nobody else to give me a ride, even if it would’ve been a hella awkward one.” Namjoon sat against the wall, not meeting Yoogi’s eyes.
“I’m sorry for last night, I didn’t realize it was Seokjin.”
“Hyung, who else in Seoul drives a pickup truck?”
“I didn’t look at the fucking model, Joon-ah, I was panicked. I thought someone from school saw us, thought they would’ve given us hell today.” Yoongi kicked a pebble on the pavement.
“You’re forgiven, hyung. I just wish we could’ve kissed longer.”
“I wish we could’ve too. But I don’t know if that’d be fair to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Namjoon-ah, I—I’m not ready for this. A relationship. With you. I don’t want to come out yet, and I don’t want to put you through a hidden relationship.”
Namjoon looked at Yoongi, his dimples making an appearance with his soft smile. “Hyung, that’s okay. And we don’t have to be dating to kiss, Hoseok and Seokjin do that all the time.”
“But we’re not them—”
“No, we’re us. Childhood rivals, closest confidants, most competitive dumbasses, and future rap stars extraordinaire.”
A slight breeze picked up, blowing a few flower petals across the sidewalk and fluffing Namjoon’s hair. In his white summer uniform shirt and his goldish-platinum hair, he looked like a piece of art. Some photograph you’d see in your textbook and think, I wonder what his life was like.
As they rode home on his motorcycle, Yoongi took a longer route, going out of the city into the countryside. Yoongi pulled off the road as the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky turned a beautiful violet. “I love you, Joon-ah,” he said, barely audible.
“I love you too, Yoongi-hyung.”
==
“Unfortunately, you have a point,” Yoongi grumbled.
“I always do. Anyway, Seokie is expecting me home soon. See you later, kick Namjoon’s ass tomorrow for me!” Seokjin called embarrassingly loudly as he left.
It’ll be good practice for kicking yours , Yoongi thought.
Yoongi meandered through the arcade. It was in the higher-class mall not far from his work, he remembered the buzz it had created when it opened a year ago. Apparently, it had the newest, most difficult rhythm games from Japan, a state-of-the-art VR set-up, and a combination laser tag-escape room. Jimin and Hoseok had dragged Taehyung to it on opening day, and somehow got banned not even three hours later.
He swiped the arcade card on something that resembled the old basketball game he remembered from high school and got to work. It’d been a while since he’d actually played a game of basketball, but he still practiced shooting when he went to the gym. Or, more accurately, when Namjoon interrupted him from working for four days straight and forced him to exercise. (Yoongi wasn’t allowed to lift weights because it tended to aggravate his shoulder injury, despite having gotten surgery and physical therapy years ago, so he did pretty much everything else—except running, even when he played basketball in high school, running days were his least favorite.) So he wasn’t lying when he told Seokjin he could still shoot.
And as Yoongi watched the points wrack up, he felt himself being carried off into nostalgia, when he would force Namjoon to come to the arcade with him despite the poor boy’s lack of coordination because he just thought it was so cute. Every time Namjoon managed to completely miss the hole in skee ball, or tripped over himself in DDR (because he still hadn’t learned how to tie his fucking shoes), he made the most adorable, determined face. True, Yoongi also just wanted to show off. But he could’ve done that anywhere, the arcade was special.
==
Namjoon bent down to tie his shoelace. Okay, they weren’t his shoes, they were Taehyung’s, but still.
“Wow, Joonie, when’d you learn how to tie your shoes?” Yoongi giggled, his own borrowed shoes, originally Hoseok’s, squeaking on the polished wood floors of the restaurant they would’ve been too broke to eat at had Seokjin not paid the reservation for them.
Namjoon smiled, his dimples made Yoongi’s heart melt. “I guess I’ve grown up a lot since we last saw each other,’ he said awkwardly.
He had. The last time Yoongi saw him, Namjoon had still been lanky and not sure what to do with his body. His hair was a disaster from dying it black and he hit on every girl they passed on the sidewalk as they walked home from their final arcade adventure. His stupid velcro sketchers were falling apart. And, as they parted ways, knowing they’d be at different colleges in just a few days—for the first time in their lives not being a thorn in the other’s side—there was a forlorn sadness in his eyes. Yoongi felt it, too. They’d never quite gotten past the kiss, they had never talked about it again, never did it again.
The last time Yoongi saw him, Yoongi kissed him on the cheek, right on his dimple, and said, “I’m sorry.”
The last time Yoongi saw him, Yoongi looked away. He didn’t see Namjoon’s face, just heard the whisper of, “Life goes on, hyung,” and the echoes of footsteps walking away.
But now, Namjoon had some muscle, and carried himself with real confidence, not just a front. His hair was soft, styled and parted like an idol’s. His borrowed suit fit him remarkably well. Yoongi couldn’t believe what a difference two years could have. “Yeah,” was all he could say.
“You have, too, hyung. And I don’t just mean your looks, although you do look nice. I mean, you arranged this. You reached out to me. I honestly wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again…” he trailed off.
“Namjoon-ah, I’m so sorry. Really, I am. I hated how things ended between us. I didn’t know what to do after the kiss, I—honestly? I wasn’t scared to come out, but I wanted to protect you. I know it’s silly considering you weren’t a stranger to fighting or bullying, but I hid so much from you. Not just you, Seokjin-hyung and Hobi never knew until I told them after the accident. I’m sure you figured I got into more fights than I told you, but there were times it was nearly every day, all because some people thought you were weak, and thought I was too for being your friend. They were all the weak ones, and I wanted to show them I was strong, strong enough for both of us. And I knew if we started dating, you’d see that. You’d see who I really was, what everyone really thought, and you wouldn’t want to be friends with someone who kept a whole world of truths, however ugly, from you, let alone date him. And then we graduated, and then, when the accident happened, I just locked myself away from everyone.
“Hyung really chewed me out for that, and it made me think. It made me realize that I couldn’t just keep myself closed off and only let you see the parts of me I wanted—the show-off basketball star, the bad-boy troublemaker who was strong and tough and drove a motorcycle—and I couldn’t pretend to myself that I wasn’t afraid. I knew I had to face you, so here we are.” Yoongi forced himself to look Namjoon in the eyes.
Namjoon waited a moment, Yoongi could see him thinking out exactly what he wanted to say. When he finally spoke, it was measured: warm, but not sugar-coated. “You’re right, Yoongi-hyung, I didn’t know any of that. And you’re right that I probably would’ve gone off on you for doing that. But don’t think you’re the only one at fault. I only got into fights because I wanted to protect you from getting into more. I acted stupid, partially because I was,” he laughed, “but I thought that maybe if I made myself a target you wouldn’t get so much heat, or, at the very least, you wouldn’t be alone. Because I knew you, Yoongi-hyung, I knew you felt like you were too perfect, being the basketball star. I knew you were actually doing well in your classes, but you still felt vulnerable. You weren’t always like that, just like I didn’t always hit on girls like that. We were stupid and in high school and filled with toxic ideas about masculinity and heterosexuality, and we wanted to protect ourselves and each other. And, for the record, I’m really sorry about the accident.”
Yoongi flushed and shook his head. “We really kept years of stupid shit from each other just because we couldn’t face being vulnerable, didn’t we? We could’ve solved this years ago if we actually communicated,” he groaned.
“Hey, we’re only like twenty, we’re actually pretty lucky we’ve figured this out so young,” Namjoon offered. “Now, let’s enjoy our date at a fancy restaurant. Seokjin-hyung would kill us if he spent this much money in vain.”
==
It was nine by the time Yoongi got home, although with how blinding the city lights were, it was almost hard to tell when it was dark. He slid his slippers on and walked into the living room to see his boyfriend watching some nature documentary and smiled softly. “Hey, Joonie,” he sat down and leaned against Namjoon’s shoulder.
“Hey, hyungie. You’re home late, working on some secret project?” He moved his arm to let Yoongi snuggle up next to him more comfortably.
“I am, but Seokjin stopped by in the middle of me finishing this song to make me do one of his little quests. I heard from Jimin you two went shopping?”
“Yeah,” Namjoon laughed, “He tried to get me to try on this awful lime green suit. He said it’d match the retro vibe, but of course he would say that, he’s the one who could actually pull it off!”
“I would pay money to see you wearing that.” Yoongi cackled, making Namjoon pout, “I’d probably make tons of money selling pictures of it, too.”
“Exploiting me for monetary gain, hyung? I thought you would be against that.”
“Nah, it’s not for monetary gain, just entertainment.” Yoongi turned to kiss Namjoon. “Ready for our date tomorrow?”
“I think I should be the one asking you that.” Namjoon shifted, scooping Yoongi up with one arm so he was facing Namjoon on his lap.
“Oh?” Yoongi quirked his eyebrow, “And what does that me—?”
He was interrupted by Namjoon’s deep kiss. They sat there, making out slowly and softly, just enjoying being with each other, for a while. The documentary was long over and a new one had started by the time they stopped, too sleepy to keep kissing, and had fallen asleep entangled on the couch.
jimin-hyung
jungkookie!! are you ready to start
practicing choreo??
kookie
hyunnngg yess
but i have another shift at the arcade
today, so it’ll have to be short
jimin-hyung
jungkookieeee
you know you could debut a
lot faster if you just moved in with
me and taehyungie
kookie
oh no i don’t want to intrude on you
and hyung
you know i want to do this all on my
own
the agency offered to help but i know
that they need it to train the rookies
they decided on txt last i heard
i can do this
jimin-hyung
i know you can, kookie
i believe in you
i heard you met a hottie at the
arcade yesterday ;))
kookie
hyunnngg >~<
why do i tell taetae-hyung
anything??
jimin-hyung
hehe~~
kookie
*sigh*
yeah i did
his name is namjoon
jimin-hyung
oh
kookie
“oh”??
Read 9:32 AM
Jungkook bounced his leg nervously, Jimin barely talked to him during practice, and now he realizes why he’d only said “oh”. It was two in the afternoon, and Namjoon walked into the arcade, blushing as he laughed with a short man next to him.
A man he was holding hands with.
And now they were walking towards Jungkook.
“Hi, hyung,” He bowed politely, trying not to let them know he was dying inside.
The other man gave Namjoon a look, “Hyung? You know this kid?”
“Uh, yeah,” Namjoon laughed nervously and gave Jungkook a look like go along with what I say , “He’s Jimin’s friend, we ran into him at the mall yesterday.”
Well, I am Jimin’s friend, it’s not a total lie , Jungkook thought. “Yeah. Hyung was having too much fun, but that’s Jimin-hyung for you. Uh, what’s your name?”
The man snorted, “Believe me, I heard all about the lime green suit. And I’m Yoongi, you can call me hyung, too, You are?”
“Nice to meet you, Yoongi-hyung. I’m Jungkook. Now, do you guys need tokens?”
“Two cups, please,” Namjoon said. As Yoongi walked away, tokens in hand, Namjoon turned to Jungkook, “Thanks, for earlier.”
Jungkook couldn’t quite make eye contact, but he smiled and said, “No problem, hyung. Go enjoy your date.”
Namjoon joined Yoongi at their first contest—skee ball. Yoongi had placed the cups down and looked lost in thought.
“Hey,” Namjoon elbowed him, “You okay?”
Yoongi leaned into him, just slight enough for Namjoon to have to shift his weight. “Yeah… It’s just that kid, he shouldn’t be here.”
“What are you talking about, hyung? Where else would a college student work?”
Yoongi shook his head, looking angry at some injustice. “He’s not a college student, Joon-ah, he’s going to be an idol. I’ve been working on his album the past few weeks, the company should be paying him—so he doesn’t end up like me.”
“Oh, Yoongi-hyung…” Namjoon put his arm around his boyfriend, “are you feeling all soft for him?” he teased, trying to cheer him up.
“I might’ve been a rapper if it weren’t for the accident, Joonie. Jungkook has a lot of talent, I don't want him to lose out on a world of opportunity.”
“Listen, hyung, when you go into work on Monday you can call the agency and chew them out. I’ll talk to Jimin tomorrow, see if he knows if there’s anything that can be done, he might have connections in the industry. But, for now, let’s just enjoy our date. Okay?”
“You’re right, we can’t do anything now.” His soft smile transformed into a devious smirk as he tossed the first skee ball, “Prepare to die!”
Jungkook watched as Namjoon and Yoongi finished their skee ball game (Yoongi won, and Jungkook couldn’t help but think how cute—and also simultaneously hot?—he looked when he was smug). And as they played the new rhythm game that was Dance Dance Revolution themed (Namjoon won this time. Although it seemed to Jungkook that Yoongi just didn’t try to win). And as they played the basketball game (Despite Namjoon having spent hours at it yesterday, Yoongi absolutely destroyed him)—when suddenly he got an idea.
It wasn’t necessarily his best idea, Jungkook admitted to himself (he barely knew them, let alone if they’d be willing to do this), but, hey, if it failed, he’d never have to see either of them again, right?
He took a deep breath and started shooting basketballs.
“Hyung, look,” Namjoon elbowed Yoongi to get his attention, an endeared and amused smile showed on his face.
“Hm?” Yoongi turned around and saw what Namjoon just had.
It was Jungkook. He was at the basketball game they’d just left. And he was doing terribly (but still better than Namjoon’s absolutely abysmal first round)—ball after ball bounced off the rim. But then, annoyed at his performance, he climbed into the machine and shook his arms wildly above the hoop, putting the ball in just enough for the sensors to register it. Yoongi doubled over laughing with a full gummy smile, and Namjoon wasn’t holding in his deep chuckles any better. They watched as Jungkook continued to rack up points. He’d reached 270 by the end of the third quarter. Satisfied, he climbed back out to finish the game normally.
Namjoon tried to keep himself composed when Jungkook sauntered their way, he really did. But Yoongi’s snickering (and Jungkook’s almost bunny-like appearance; his hair had come undone from his shenanigans and two long strands stuck up from his head, bouncing with his every step) set him off on another round of laughter.
“Namjoon-hyung! Yoongi-hyung! I just got off for a break, I beat the last person who had first-place—whoever ‘syub syub’ is.” Jungkook’s confident statement wavered as he realized that Namjoon and Yoongi were still laughing, “What?”
“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi coughed out his name in between dying laughs, “We— we saw you, in the machine. Did, were you trying—”
“What I believe my partner is trying to say is: were you trying to impress us?” Namjoon finished for his boyfriend.
Jungkook’s red face was all the confirmation they really needed, but still, he stammered, “No! I— You saw nothing!”
Yoongi, finally composed, reached out to put his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Hey, Jungkookie, it’s okay. You were just so adorably determined, it was funny. You don’t need to be embarrassed. But why were you trying to beat my score?”
Jungkook mumbled unintelligibly.
“Sorry, what?” Yoongi asked.
“His old man ears can’t hear you,” Namjoon added, earning a weak slap from the said older man.
“Becauseyourehot,” Jungkook said, barely loud enough to hear.
“Um, could you repeat that?”
Jungkook took a deep breath, “Because you two are hot, okay?” He looked away, embarrassed.
It was Namjoon’s turn to be flustered, “Oh…”
“I’m sorry, I know you two are together and probably wouldn’t like me even if you weren’t—”
“Hey,” Yoongi said, “It’s okay, Jungkook-ah, really. Although Namjoon and I haven’t talked about it much, we are polyamorous.” He turned to Namjoon, “Joonie, what do you think?”
“I think we’d be lucky to have Jungkook.” He reached out his hand to Jungkook, “Should we settle this over dinner?”
The playful glint had returned to Jungkook’s eyes, “Depends, are my hyungs paying? I did beat both of you, after all.”
“First of all, you cheated. Secondly, considering this is at least your second job, I’m paying. You need to save up money for debut.” Yoongi said.
“Hyung, how did you know I’m an idol?”
“Should I have introduced myself differently? I’m SUGA, your producer.” He smirked.
Jungkook’s eyes went wide, starstruck. His face went red again and he buried himself into Namjoon’s shoulders, “I can’t believe I did this to my own fucking producer. I’m gonna go die in a hole now.”
“Hey, don’t stress.” Namjoon ruffled his hair, “Compared to our history, this isn’t that embarrassing.”
“KIM NAMJOON! I LOVE YOU, BUT I WILL KILL YOU!”
And so, ten years after that fateful night, Yoongi walked down the same street, with the same hazy blue dusk and the glow of the halogen street lights like captured shooting stars, the flickering neon signs casting a rainbow of shadows and highlights on the figures of the two men on either side of him, who laughed fondly as he blushed when they took his hands. They ate the same ramyeon, although Jungkook ate much more than either Namjoon or Yoongi could've afforded back in high school after spending most of their money on tokens. But two things were different. One, when Namjoon kissed him—in front of Jungkook—he didn't run away. Two, when he pulled away, this time to smile, he reached out. To Jungkook.