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taekemeaway · 4 years ago

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info: namgi, teen, roommate/college au genre: fluff, slice of life | word ct: 6k warnings: devils lettuce, stoned antics summary: to everyone else, namjoon was a brilliant philosophy student that would make socrates swoon with pride. to yoongi, namjoon was the annoying roommate that laid awake at night mumbling things like,

"do jellyfish get lonely because there are no peanut butter fish?"

and yoongi hated him.

but he liked him more than he hated him.

cross posted on ao3

There was a lot to be said about Kim Namjoon, and usually it was good. He was a hardworking student with a kind heart, helpful and wise, he fought for peace and practiced it too. In his spare time he could either be found tutoring or volunteering at various school functions around campus with an awarding winning smile on his face. Didn’t ask for praise or recognition (even though he received it often). He was, for all intents and purposes, a good person. The only people who held any amount of disdain towards him were usually jealous of his success or insecure of the lack of their own.

Yoongi, on the other hand, was his roommate.

And he had plenty of things to say about him.

One fact that no one would argue, Namjoon was brilliant. Whether you loved him or you hated him (or you were Yoongi and found yourself somewhere in the inbetween) you had to admit that you had never met anyone more intelligent than him. He chose to study philosophy and posed the sort of questions that would make Socrates roll over in his grave to hide the massive boner he just received.

“You have to ask yourself,” Namjoon would begin as underclassman swarmed him, each hanging on his every word like well-trained minions, “if a man kills an intruder for fear of his own life, was he just for doing so? Most people would say yes. Murder is inherently illegal but this man will not go to jail for breaking a law to protect himself.”

Yoongi wasn’t sure if he paused to catch his breath or to build tension. Either way, his goons seemed to only become more entranced by his silence.

“Then is that man so different from the woman who buys prescription drugs from someone on the street if she needs them to stay alive because her healthcare refuses to cover it? She isn’t causing anyone any harm but more likely than not this woman will see jail time and the man who ended someone else’s life will walk free. They both broke the law, shouldn’t the punishment be the same if their intent was just?”

Yoongi would roll his eyes in disgust. Not because of what Namjoon proposed, it was a well thought out argument, but because late at night that same progeny of Aristotle would lie awake and utter things like,

“Do you think jellyfish ever get lonely because there are no peanut butter fish?”

It was a marvel that this was the same man that students and faculty alike fawned over. Yoongi sometimes found himself staring just because he had no idea how someone so smart could’ve said something so utterly moronic. Kim Namjoon was a bundle of chaotic contradictions wrapped up neatly in a well worn cashmere sweater. Hate was a strong word, and Yoongi didn’t hate him. Sometimes he thought it would be easier if he did. He was just fed up with their whole semester long situation.

Yoongi couldn’t pinpoint one singular reason why Namjoon got under his skin. There wasn’t something that he just couldn’t forgive, something that he had done that warranted such malevolence, Yoongi couldn’t explain it. He hated attention, he hated the limelight, whether it was on him or not. Namjoon, alternatively, was constantly bathed in it. Every step he took seemed to be toeing a red carpet that had yet to exist. Each word out of his mouth almost preluding an acceptance speech that was sure to come.

Maybe irritated was a better word.

He was constantly irritated by Namjoon and everything that he did.

He didn’t like to show it though, that was in poor taste. Namjoon never did anything to slight him personally but sometimes Yoongi just didn’t like people. In fact he usually didn’t like people. Some part of him felt that if he wasn’t forced to live with the most intelligent student (and person) on campus he would’ve at least been able to tolerate him. Even if that were true, the semester was almost over and they were never going to see each other again.

The idea didn’t make him happy per se, but it didn’t make him unhappy either.

“I don’t get why you hate him so much.” Taehyung mused while he flipped through a magazine. “Sometimes I swear you’re spiteful for the sake of being spiteful.”

“You’re right, I am.” Yoongi returned absentmindedly. “And I don’t hate him, I just can’t stand him for lengthy intervals of time.”

Taehyung scoffed. “You say that about everyone.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.” He mumbled in response. “If you’re going to lecture me, at least make yourself useful. Can you hand me that—thing.”

Rolling his eyes, Taehyung rolled off of Yoongi’s bed to grab that thing. “Yoongi, it’s your laptop. When are you going to stop referring to it as that thing.”

“When it decides to cough up that 15 page research paper it ate.” He explained.

Taehyung scoffed. “That was—that was two semesters ago!”

Yoongi didn’t look phased. “And?”

“Turn on autosave!”

“No.”

“And why the hell not?”

“I refuse to abide by its rules. That means it wins.”

Groaning in exasperation, Taehyung threw himself back onto Yoongi’s bed. “See? This is what I’m talking about. When faced with two options, one being a solution and the other being a problem, you willingly decide to let it be a problem! In what world does any sane person do that?”

“Dunno.” Yoongi clipped, opening up his hand expectantly. “Can you hand me that—other thing?”

Taehyung pressed his palms into his eyes. “Why do I—fine. What is the other thing?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Yoongi vehemently pointed to a rather expensive set of headphones that had been obviously tossed across the room in one of his fits.

Sighing, Taehyung grabbed it for him. “Alright, what did the headphones do?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Taehyung eyed the headset already sitting next to him. “Did you accidentally use Namjoon’s headset and realize that it’s so much better than your own?”

While Yoongi didn’t offer a response, his red ears said it all.

“Jesus, hyung.” Taehyung muttered, shaking his head. “Can’t you at least pretend to get along with him? It’s the end of the semester, it’s the holidays for Christ’s sake! He’s not the devil and your continued vendetta against him just makes you look like a royal prick!”

Taehyung statement hung in the air for some time, waiting for Yoongi to fill the void with something that resembled an explanation. He would be disappointed, as he often was.

“Did you say something?” Yoongi threw casually over his shoulder, pretending he hadn’t heard him.

“Nothing worth hearing, apparently.” Taehyung lamented. “Alright, my shuttle should be here any minute and I need to finish packing. I’ll see you next semester.”

“Later Taehyung.” He returned with half a wave. “Say hi to the folks for me.”

Taehyung almost smirked. “Don’t worry, I will. Try not to work yourself to death.”

“No promises.”

“I know, later Yoongi.”

With a click, Taehyung was gone and Yoongi was finally alone. Savoring the welcomed silence, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms overhead. The time in between semesters was his favorite time of year. He could stay at the dorms while everyone else dispersed to the countryside to see family they haven’t laid eyes on in months. It granted him both a reprieve from his disapproving parents and the other students that never ceased to get on his nerves.

And, most importantly, He mused happily, no more Kim Namjoon.

Of course he was still around. His side of the room was still dredged in chaos, his suitcase and other luggage remained mostly untouched from what Yoongi could tell. Not that he expected anything less, it was Namjoon’s routine. He would get so caught up in goodbyes and last minute philosophical debates that packing would be left until he was scrambling to get it all done. And Yoongi would have to endure it all and hope that he didn’t grind his molars to dust from pure annoyance.

In his defense, he didn’t start grinding his teeth until he met Namjoon. So he’ll gladly blame him for the dental bills that will certainly accumulate in the future.

One more day. He reminded himself. One more day and I’ll finally be free of him.

There was only one problem with his plan, by the time that Namjoon rolled in it was almost midnight. Well after all of the buses and shuttles had finished their routes for the night—for the whole semester, in fact. No one was coming or going from the school until service up to the campus resumed towards the end of January.

And Namjoon was there.

In their room.

Smiling.

Yoongi felt like he was going to be sick.

“You don’t look so good, hyung.” Namjoon pointed out, shouldering off his bookbag. “Don’t tell me you’re getting sick right before Christmas.”

Almost as if he was in a trance, Yoongi didn’t confirm or deny Namjoon’s assumption and instead found his jaw planted firmly on the ground. He was still in shock, frozen in time staring at his roommate and hoping that the horrible hallucination would vanish before his eyes. Minutes ticked by without incident, or any that was visible. Because Yoongi could swear that World War 3 was waging in his chest while his mind tried to wrap itself around the situation he was faced with.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you that I decided not to go home for the holidays.”

This—this is hell.

“So it looks like it’s just going to be you and me for the next month or so.”

This is the lowest circle of hell.

“Nothing but us guys and some fun philosophical conundrums to pass the time.”

Taehyung was wrong. Namjoon is most certainly the devil and he’s planning on subjecting me to his hellish torture!

Yoongi didn’t say anything as Namjoon got comfortable after a long day of—whatever he does. His mind was still careening off the tracks. The amount of time that they usually spent together in their dorm room was almost negligible, at least the time they spent awake anyways. He honestly didn’t know how they were going to survive for a whole month if Namjoon expected him to hold a conversation. Typically his responses varied somewhere between grunting and feigned oblivion. And that was perfectly fine for the twenty or so minutes before they drifted off to sleep.

He had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be enough anymore.

“So, what are your plans for break?”

To take a break from you. “Nothing really.”

“Same.” Namjoon sighed, pulling out War and Peace in the original Russian like that was completely normal. “I’ll probably just catch up on some light reading, you won’t even know I’m here.”

Light reading? Yoongi exasperated. I can’t tell if he’s showing off or if he genuinely feels that War and Peace is such a breeze to read.

He decided that it was a little bit of both.

“Whatever.” Yoongi finally mumbled before turning his attention back to his computer and the track he’d been mixing.

But as much as he wanted to get back to work, he couldn’t. There was something about Namjoon, whether it was his energy or his spirit or whatever—Yoongi couldn’t concentrate. Namjoon was just so loud. Which didn’t make any sense, glancing over his shoulder Yoongi could see that he wasn’t doing anything. He was just reading, just sitting, just existing and it was too much for Yoongi to handle.

This is going to be a long break.

A long.

Hellish.

Break.

As usual, Yoongi’s concerns and grievances were grossly exaggerated. One would even say dramatic if they wanted to piss Yoongi off. He hated that word. He hated it most when Taehyung had turned to Hoseok in the middle of a crowded coffee shop and asked, “can I get a definition for dramatic?” to which Hoseok dutifully replied with, “intending or intended to create an effect; theatrical.”

Which wasn’t inherently awful but they were using it to make a point when Yoongi wanted to perform a sit-in when the girl behind the counter said that they were out of almond croissants.

“You’re being dramatic, hyung.”

“You don’t even know what that word means, dongsaeng.”

“Oh don’t I? Hoseok, come over here.”

So, yeah. He hated that word.

In context, Namjoon wasn’t in their dorm room nearly as much as Yoongi had been dreading. He was barely there at all. What Yoongi neglected to take into consideration, Namjoon had a life and friends. Why would be coop himself up in a broom closet? Yoongi, on the other hand, had an affinity for silence and being bitter and neither were too condusive to having any semblance of a social life. He could count his friends on one hand and one of them was the underclassman, Jeongguk, that was forced to deal with him when they were both in the studio late at night.

Taehyung said that he didn’t count.

He was being paid to be there.

(Yoongi counted him anyway. Screw you Taehyung.)

And the few times that Namjoon’s schedule permitted him to come back to the dorm, he mostly let Yoongi be. It really wasn’t too different to their dynamic when school was in session. Turns out, there was nothing for him to be afraid of. At least—nothing he wasn’t already afraid of. Like human contact, escalators, the second floor bathroom, and cilantro. All of which were equally terrifying in his eyes.

At first, Yoongi felt like he was in paradise. He was alone, there was quiet, he wasn’t needed and he didn’t need. On paper everything was perfect. Two weeks into break and he was already almost finished with everything he wanted to work on. Day in and day out he was just this over exhausted bundle of productivity. Eventually though, he realized that he had been plagued by an ungodly affliction. One that would surely be fatal if left unchecked. And it wasn’t his innate desire to make playlists.

He was bored.

That was the contradiction of Min Yoongi. He only craved quiet when there was none, loved solitude when he couldn’t get away. Something he didn’t take into consideration, never thought of, how did he know that he didn’t like people if there was no one there to constantly pester him? The answer was simple, he didn’t. As much as he hated people, he needed them. He needed them so he could hate them. Which didn’t make any of sense when he tried to explain it to Taehyung. That didn’t matter, to Yoongi it made plenty of sense.

Unfortunately there was only one person on campus and in his direct circle of friends to have enough time to humor his social neglect. One person in the entirety of the universe that could cure his deadly affliction. The same person he had been so keen to escape over winter break. He grimaced just thinking about it. Making nice with Kim Namjoon.

The Kim Namjoon.

But, in all honesty, he didn’t know how. He could barely make nice with Hoseok and Taehyung, he tolerated Seokjin, and Jeongguk didn’t say much (which was why Yoongi liked him best). How do people talk to other people? For two days he sat at his desk with his hands fisting his hair in frustration, trying to figure out how to strike up a conversation with someone he had never had a desire to converse with before.

What do I say, you smell nice?

Oh God no that’s awful.

Do I say nothing?

Can I just bark at him?

Because honestly that’s the least awkward thing I can think to do.

It was madness.

Ugh, I need to smoke a bowl before I lose it.

So that’s what he did, he cracked open a window, packed his Kumamon bowl, and let some herbal refreshments drown his worries and social anxiety. He inhaled deeply and leaned back in his chair, suddenly more concerned with the fact that male seahorses give birth and wondering if in some apocalyptic future he’d have to do the same.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Eyes wide in fear, Yoongi swivelled around to the sight of Namjoon standing in the doorway with a similar expression on his dimpled face. Busted. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to burst into flames or implode on the spot. Either would’ve been better than having his Holier than Thou roommate running off to campus security and getting his scholarship revoked and his ass thrown out into the snow. Swallowing nervously, he decided to take one more hit in case any of those scenarios came to fruition.

“Maybe?” He admitted while he held it, exhaling it only when he couldn’t take it anymore.

Namjoon suddenly smiled. “I had no idea you smoked! If I had known I wouldn’t have tried so hard to hide my stash so thoroughly.”

Wait—what?

Intrigued, Yoongi watched Namjoon kneel down beside his bed and pull out a ratty old cardboard box from beneath it. Inside was a myriad of books, some old some new, each as inconspicuous as the next. As he opened up a fairly worn copy of The Scarlet Letter Yoongi managed to peep a small baggy of “oregano” tucked away neatly in a cut out portion of the pages. He wasn’t sure what caught him off guard more, the fact that Kim Namjoon took part in illegal activities or that he disfigured such an iconic book. For a good cause, of course, it was still shocking to say the least.

“Wow.” Was all that Yoongi could manage as his slower mental processes took in what was happening. He reflexively offered his bowl to Namjoon as silence descended upon them, sharing is caring as he always said.

“Thanks.” Namjoon smiled, pulling out his lighter and taking a puff. “It was getting harder and harder to hide this stuff from you, you never leave the room after all.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t like going outside. Or talking to people. Or moving. Or—I don’t like a lot of things actually.”

“I’ve noticed that.” He laughed as he let a stream of smoke pass between his lips. “I think you’ve said less than ten words to me since we moved in in August.”

“Probably.” Yoongi snorted, taking the bowl back and contemplating packing another one. “You gonna stick around? I don’t want to grind another bowl just for myself.”

Pursing his lips and eyeing his watch, Namjoon looked unsure. “Well—I was going to go get some lunch with my friends…”

“Whatever, it’s fine.” Yoongi waved him off. “You can come smoke whenever you want, I don’t really care.”

Namjoon arched a brow at him. “Was that an invitation to hang out?”

Yoongi felt his ears getting red. “Not really. You live here.”

“So do you.”

“And?”

“We’re technically always hanging out.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Then I guess it was.”

Watching his lips tug into a smile, Yoongi felt his heart skip a beat.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll see you later hyung.”

Click.

Sitting in silence, Yoongi found himself wondering;

Has Namjoon always been that handsome?

The answer was yes, obviously, but it was still something he had never noticed before. Yoongi found himself rolling his eyes at his own expense.

What, do you have a crush on him already?

What if I do?

Then that’s pretty sad and you’re a thirsty hoe.

He paused.

I need to stop having discussions with myself and start talking to actual people.

But he wouldn’t.

Instead, he created a playlist.

That was one of Yoongi’s pastimes, creating playlists. He created them for a variety of reasons, for relaxation, inspiration, to remind him of someone, and for whatever reason his somewhat successful encounter with Namjoon warranted a playlist. There wasn’t much yet, he put I’m a Freak by Radiohead on there and took it off when he remembered he wasn’t making a playlist about himself. After some pretty thorough deliberation, he had a whole whopping two songs on there. Wishing Well by the Gunpoets and The Enemy by Andrew Belle. He would continue to add songs as they hung out more so he didn’t stress over it. Good things come with time.

Besides, Namjoon liked Pierce the Veil. He really liked them. And they were one of Yoongi’s favorite bands. They actually spent a whole Thursday afternoon quoting their favorite lyrics to each other and he knew right then and there—they were going to be good friends.

And they really were. It happened gradually, but everyday Namjoon and Yoongi would hang out for maybe just a couple of hours. They were a good couple of hours too. They would each take turns playing their music, oddly enough they had similar tastes, and packing the bowl. It was a good arrangement. Not only that, it definitely cured Yoongi’s boredom and made their break start to fly by. Which could’ve been a good thing or a bad thing, depended on which one you asked.

Then, the storm came.

The storm itself wasn’t anything special, nothing more than snow and wind, but it knocked out the power. No big deal, except there was no power and that meant that there was absolutely nothing to do. Late at night, no lights, no computer, no music, nothing. Namjoon and Yoongi sat there dumbfounded while their marijuana riddled minds tried to grasp what just happened.

“Well shit.” Namjoon muttered first, supressing a cough. “This sucks.”

Yoongi fell back and groaned loudly. “This really sucks.”

“I know right?” Namjoon continued, using his phone as a light to peer into their mostly used up bowl. “We’re almost out too, I’m not nearly high enough for this.”

“Me neither.” Yoongi agreed when he was, in fact, stoned out of his mind. “What’re we supposed to do now?”

Namjoon narrowed his eyes at his phone. “I don’t know, my phone’s almost dead. What about yours?”

Lifting up his head, Yoongi grimaced. “We don’t speak of that thing.”

Namjoon scoffed. “I take it you didn’t like the new update.”

“Hell no.” Yoongi concurred, groaning louder still. “Do you have anything left to pack the bowl?”

He shook his head. “No. Besides, smoking it a lot less fun when there’s no music.”

“True.” Yoongi sighed. “Well—what’re we supposed to do?”

“We could discuss Aristotle’s position on goats—”

“No.” Yoongi cut him off. “We’re not debating some philosophical point right now. Philosophy hurts my sober brain and my stoned brain wants nothing to do with it—wait, did you say goats?”

Namjoon nodded. “He believed he could tell the gender of a goat by which way the wind was blowing.”

Yoongi couldn’t help it, he laughed. “This is what you’re learning in your philosophy classes?” Nod. “That’s crazy, those Greek dudes might not be so bad after all.”

“Really?” Namjoon beamed. “Because we could—”

“No.”

“But—”

“I said no.”

“Please—”

“NO.”

“Okay fine.” Namjoon finally admitted, pouting as he crossed his arms. “Then what do you suppose we do?”

Yoongi shrugged. “No clue. No laptop means no speakers, no speakers means no tunes, no tunes means no more grass for us. I would play for us but I pawned my guitar last semester for a term paper that I didn’t feel like writing. So no music.”

“You play guitar?” Namjoon asked. “I didn’t know that.”

“I play a little bit of everything.” Yoongi elaborated unenthusiastically. “Piano’s my forte but I couldn’t exactly fit a good keyboard in the dorms so I brought my guitar with me.”

“And then you sold it.”

“Pawned.”

“For a term paper.”

“Yup.” Yoongi reaffirmed with pride. “I skated through my prereqs thanks to bought term papers. I’m not ashamed of it.”

Namjoon’s eyes started swimming with curiosity, Yoongi could see those wheels turning. And he knew he wouldn’t like what was about to happen.

“What an interesting point.” He mused quietly, chin held between his fingers. “These courses aren’t necessary for your future, but you’re required to take them—”

I’ve unleashed the monster.

“—you’ve found a way around the situation by having other people write your papers. Which is, of course, against school policy and therefore you should be punished. But by not wasting your time on classes that hold no importance for you or your career you were able to accomplish more for yourself. How do we determine what is more important? Rules and regulations, or the promise of a better tomorrow?”

Namjoon’s question was met with an impermeable silence, which was what usually happened when he got all philosophical when Yoongi was in the room.

“Is that it?” Yoongi asked incredulously. “C’mon, get it out of your system. You know you want to.”

“Then we’d be here all night.” Namjoon chuckled. “And you wouldn’t like that.”

Yoongi shrugged nonchalantly. “Not necessarily.”

“Is that you admitting you like hanging out with me?” Namjoon teased.

“No.”

“I think it is.”

“It’s not.”

“Alright, whatever you say hyung.” Namjoon relented with a laugh. “So, what’re we going to do about this no music thing?”

Yoongi looked uninterested for the most part. “Beats me, probably nothing. You can sing to me if you want.”

“Now that’s funny.” He returned, checking his phone for the time. “I actually have a better idea.”

Curious, Yoongi propped himself up on his elbows and eyed Namjoon suspiciously. “Oh? Do tell.”

“What’re the odds that the security cameras are down across campus?” He asked. “Think they have a backup generator?”

“I mean maybe?” Yoongi offered halfheartedly. “Why? What exactly do you have in mind?”

Namjoon’s only response was a devilish grin. “You’ll see.”

Before Yoongi could question him further, Namjoon stood up abruptly and started pulling on layers. When he motioned for Yoongi to do the same, he did so without hesitation. Which, in hindsight, shouldn’t have been his immediate reaction but he was starting to learn that Namjoon had some sort of mystical power over him. In that Yoongi could tolerate him for extended periods of time without feeling the need to claw out his own ears. And that he actually felt happy until he realized that and instantly made himself unhappy.

I should stop doing that.

Once they were sufficiently bundled up they headed out into the cold. Yoongi followed Namjoon diligently across campus, dodging security cameras they weren’t entirely sure were even functional to wherever Namjoon was leading them. They passed the quarter, the girls dorms, and several other points of interest to—the music building of all places. Standing outside the locked door, Namjoon nodded his head towards it.

“You can pick locks right?” He asked, motioning towards the handle. “Work your magic maestro.”

Well, yes but how did you know that. Yoongi found himself wondering until he remembered that one time he broke into Mr Bang’s office to trash it in spite. While no one could prove it was him, everyone had their suspicions so he had a reputation no matter how small. Apparently Namjoon caught wind of it.

“Can I ask why we’re breaking into the music building?” Yoongi mused as he pulled out his tools, (he was always prepared).

“Well we’re going to get you a guitar.” Namjoon finally explained. “I figured this was the best place to find one.”

Yoongi let his hands fall to his side. “We’re seriously breaking into a locked facility on campus so we don’t lose our buzz? Either you’re more high than you look or you’re dumber than everyone thinks.”

“It could honestly be both.” Namjoon shrugged. “Now hurry up, the power could come back on any minute.”

Yoongi eyed him suspiciously but didn’t question him. He had no moral issues with what they were doing, he just had to wonder how much people actually know about Namjoon because he never would’ve pegged him for a burglar. First impressions were wicked things.

“Alright, that should be—” Yoongi started, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Clunk. “—it. After you, your majesty.”

Namjoon bowed gratefully as he grabbed the handle. “Why thank you.”

Chuckling, the two ducked into the building and headed towards the practice rooms. Usually instruments were left over break in case anyone left wanted to practice. There were a few music students still on campus, but they were all the classical musician types so the supply of violins and cellos were in high demand. Ratty old acoustic guitars were far less desirable and therefore there were a couple for Yoongi to pick from.

“Wait—holy shit!” Yoongi gasped, picking up a cherry red guitar and holding it in his hands. “No way, this is my guitar! What the hell is it doing here?”

“Maybe the guy you sold it to left it here?” Namjoon offered. “Was he a music student?”

Yoongi shook his head. “No, Liberal Arts, stoner. He just wanted to show off to his friends. There’s no way it would’ve been left here recently.”

“So it’s been here for a while then. Do you not practice often?” Namjoon asked. “Wouldn’t you have seen it?”

Yoongi pursed his lips as he admired his reclaimed treasure. “Not really. I’m in music production, I’m usually in the studio mixing together tracks that I produced.”

“Oh wow, you’ve produced music already?” He continued. “How old are you again?”

“This is my last year.” Yoongi mused without paying much attention to the question. “But yeah, I’ve produced a couple of albums. You can find them on Spotify along with the 80,000 playlists I’ve created.”

“Well shit.” Namjoon whistled. “That’s—that’s really impressive, hyung. I had no idea.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Not a lot of people do, I mostly keep to myself.”

“I know.” He sighed quietly. “I’m hoping that I can change that.”

Thump.

Wait, what did he say?

Before Yoongi could offer an unintelligent response, the power came back on. Simultaneously saving his from himself and making his blood pressure skyrocket.

“Oh shit.” Namjoon muttered. “Run!”

Without missing a beat the two bolted from the building, hoping that there was no one sitting in front of the monitors when the power came back on. They were halfway back to the dorms with guitar in hand, their cheeks flush from the cold wind, when they finally began to slow down. Huffing and puffing, they exchanged a couple of surreal glances before they burst out laughing in the middle of a snowstorm. Neither particularly caring that frost nipped at their exposed fingers (because fingerless gloves are cool).

Yoongi had to admit, Namjoon was pretty cool. And nothing like he expected. He was a whirlwind of contradictions, a happy medium between snob and stoner, something Yoongi had no idea even existed before he gave his roommate a chance. He was happy he did, because he liked hanging out with Namjoon. Liked making him smile, liked looking into his calming brown eyes. There was a lot that Yoongi liked about him, and the things he used to hate were mostly forgotten.

He liked Namjoon.

He liked him a lot.

Even if he didn’t realize it quite yet.

He actually realized it at about the same time Namjoon did.

It was Christmas, actually. They had already spent most of Christmas Eve trying to make joints into trees and both failed hilariously. Which neither really cared about, weed was weed and they liked it however they could get it. When Namjoon fell asleep Yoongi got back to creating another playlist, since it was his turn to play tunes the next day. Both agreed that Christmas songs were off limits because someone had rigged the intercom on campus to play I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus on loop for the past three days. They were getting sick of the holiday cheer.

So, there they were, lying down on Namjoon’s bed looking at the ceiling, Yoongi’s new playlist “brilliance is in the mind of the beholder” (all lower case because Yoongi didn’t believe in capitalism) filling their empty dorm with soft notes of melancholy and nostalgia. They passed a joint back and forth periodically, not really caring whether or not they got high and instead found themselves simply enjoying the music. It was nice.

“You’ve got good tastes, hyung.” Namjoon exhaled, passing the joint back.

Yoongi chuckled underneath his breath. “In music or in weed?”

“Both.” He concurred. “It’s a great combo.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi returned, taking a drag and letting the joint fall to his side. “Sorry you’re stuck with me on Christmas.”

Namjoon scoffed. “I’m not stuck anywhere, trust me. I like hanging out with you.”

“Same.” He agreed with a smile. “Glad you caught me smoking.”

“Thank you for smoking.” Namjoon nodded. “We wouldn’t be here without you.”

“Anytime.”

For a while after, neither of them said anything. Yoongi would periodically steal glances at Namjoon while he drummed his fingers against his chest to the music. When Namjoon really enjoyed music, he closed his eyes. He almost tuned out the whole world just so he could ride the soundwaves like an old road. Occasionally his lips would twitch into a grin or he would mouth along to the lyrics, maybe he would hum. But he would never sing, he insisted his singing voice was awful.

Yoongi wanted to hear it regardless.

Then, Namjoon tilted his head towards Yoongi and opened his eyes. The simple action was so surreal, so ethereal, Yoongi was speechless. He didn’t want to admit how often he stared into Namjoon’s eyes, but he couldn’t help it. They were so warm, so welcoming, he got lost in them time and time again. He was in a trance, one that was hard to snap himself from.

“Interesting song choice, hyung.” He suddenly muttered. “You trying to tell me something?”

Furrowing his brow, Yoongi had no idea what he meant. Taking another hit he tried to focus on the music, it was—it was—

Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me, out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand

Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon’s sparkling

So kiss me

Oh no.

His eyes opened wide with shock, the song that was playing was Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer, a cheesy song from the 90’s that had been in almost every romcom to date. Scrambling to his feet he pulled open the web player on his laptop and eyed the playlist. He—he didn’t mean to put that song on there.

He remembered his internal debate quite vividly, he was looking at the songs Kill Me on his computer and wondering which one he would add. There was Kill Me by The Pretty Reckless, a heavy metal song, pretty standard, not fantastic, and then there was Kill Me by Make the Girl Dance (a song he feels defines his personality perfectly) but neither really fit the aesthetic of the playlist. He remembered deciding on Kill Me by Christian Leave, another standard indie song that flowed with the rest. That’s what he wanted to put on the playlist.

So how did Kiss Me get on there?

Why do you have it in the first place?

Because I’m a basic bitch that likes sappy songs. Sue me.

I will.

“Sorry about that.” Yoongi tried to apologize, hoping that Namjoon didn’t get the wrong message. “I totally didn’t mean to put that on there, that’s my bad.”

“I think you did.” Namjoon disagreed. “All of the songs you played today were very—sappy.”

Yoongi arched an incredulous brow at him. “Wait—did I? I—I didn’t notice.”

“Love Lost by Temper Trap?” He started, sitting up and offering Yoongi a coy smirk. “Transatlanticism by Death Cab for Cutie? I need you so much closer? That lyric in itself is pretty telling.”

Oh no.

“Not to mention It Looks Like Love by Josh Rouse.” Namjoon continued. “If you were trying to send a message I’m reading it loud and clear.”

“I—I really wasn’t.” Yoongi insisted unconvincingly. “Those were just—they were just the songs I felt—I felt would be best for—oh fuck…”

I’m doomed.

I just confessed to Namjoon without even realized that there was anything to confess.

Or that I was confessing for that matter!

F U C K.

While Yoongi had a mild meltdown, Namjoon clucked his tongue and came up behind him. “It’s okay, no need to panic. C’mon, remember to breath.”

I’m trying really hard to forget though.

“Maybe this will help.”

He barely registered what was happened as Namjoon slowly turned around and leaned in closer. He felt something warm brush across his lips and he had to attempt to calm down in order to process what just happened. His brain was either screaming at him to focus or trying to rip itself apart, he wasn’t sure which it was so he was left wondering—

Wait, what did he just do.

Blinking past his panic, he looked up at Namjoon who in turn was looking down at him expectantly. Yoongi, who was having issues forming coherent thought, raised his finger to his lips. They were—wet. Warm. Which only meant one thing.

“Did you just—” He started, hesitating when he felt his voice begin to crack. “Did you just kiss me?”

Namjoon stifled a laugh. “Yeah, I did. Did you miss that?”

“Maybe…” Yoongi mumbled, his cheeks blossoming into a deep crimson. “Could you—could you do it again?”

“Do what again?” Namjoon teased. “I’m lost, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me, out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand

Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon’s sparkling

So kiss me

“Kiss me…” Yoongi said so quietly he barely heard it himself.

“What was that?” Namjoon continued to torment him. “I didn’t catch that.”

So kiss me

“I said kiss me!” Yoongi blurted out, his blush creeping all the way down his neck. “Don’t make me say it again or I’m going to explode.”

Namjoon laughed easily, smiling down at Yoongi with affection. “Alright, alright. I can do that.”

So kiss me

This time when Namjoon closed the distance between them, Yoongi was hyper aware. He thought he was warm before but Namjoon proved to be even warmer. His lips were soft and sweet, he tasted like the box of chocolates they had stolen from the security office earlier that day, and that somehow made it that much more intoxicating. The sensation was exhilarating, one that made Yoongi’s knees weak when all of the blood rushed to his head.

Namjoon smiled against Yoongi’s lips and pulled away slightly. “Better?”

“Mmm…” Yoongi hummed happily, nodding lazily. “Yeah… can you do it again?”

So kiss me

#yoonkooknetwork #btsguid #namgi #namgi scenarios #namgi fanfic #lex writes #taekemeaway

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