Chapter Text
Namjoon got into the taxi that would take him back to Seoul. Back home. It had taken him years to consider Seoul his home, too smelly and smog-filled for his taste. But in the end, he had managed. Despite Seoul being filled with buildings and cars only, he had found a kind of harmony in that city that he couldn’t seem to find anywhere else. Maybe it wasn’t the city itself that had become his home, but the people in it. More specifically, the people by his side. When they said that a home is made by the people, it’s not just a saying.
His first home had been Bangtan. Just six regular guys who, like him, had one simple desire: to create something and leave a trace of themselves behind. That simple wish turned out to be anything but simple. It became numbers so long they were impossible to pronounce, places thay had never dared dream of, but it also became insults, baseless attacks aimed only at dulling their efforts and passion. But going through all of that together had allowed them to build one of those rare bonds not everyone gets to experience in a lifetime. A bond strong enough to hold up the foundations of a home built on love and trust. A home that had no fixed address. For years, that home had stayed in Seoul. But since 2022, it had spread, branching off into military bases all over Korea.
It had been five hundred and two days since his house had become a gray barracks, under the snow, at the border. One of those barracks that hadn’t even undergone the improvements the government had started making to others. He and all his comrades were practically sleeping on the floor, with their feet dangling from the platform. Although there he had met some wonderful guys, guys who, like him, just wanted to get through their military service in one piece and go back to their lives and loved ones-he hadn’t found people with whom he could build another home. It wasn’t the people’s fault, it was the circumstances. Who would ever want to build a home in a place like that? Too much cold.
His second home had been Seokjin.
Namjoon and Seokjin hadn’t exactly started off on the right foot. Namjoon had been a teenager who spoke English and had that attitude he now looked back on and cringed at so hard he wanted to go back in time and slap himself. Seokjin, on the other hand, had been a polite guy who didn’t have the same fire and ambition. He had just ended up in that cramped and occasionally smelly dorm by chance. And since becoming a superstar hadn’t been his dream, his approach was way more laid-back than Namjoon’s.
Don’t get this wrong, Seokjin had always worked just as hard as the rest of them, maybe even harder. Only his way of thinking was different. While for the others it was debut or die, Seokjin’s mindset was more like if I don’t debut, I’ll try again, or I’ll just do something else. It took Namjoon years to realize that wasn’t carelessness, it was simply Seokjin’s way of seeing and living life. And once he understood that, they began to get along. They got along so well, in fact, that after practicing with the others for an entire day, they still had enough energy to jump in Seokjin's car and sneak off to some corner of Seoul to eat kimbap on the sly. It wasn't a big deal back then, who would recognize them? Not that they became world-famous right after their debut, but they still had to start being more careful. Eventually, they stopped doing it alotegether.
But they got along so well that one day Namjoon looked in the mirror and realized that his personality, everything he had written in his songs, everything he had claimed to believe in, was a lie. He had looked in the mirror and asked himself who the hell he was. He had bleached his hair, shaved the sides, just like real rappers. And he had put out a mixtape that talked about hard-hitting stuff, again, just like real rappers. So why was everyone calling him misogynistic? Vulgar, even! Wasn’t that how rappers were supposed to express themselves? Wasn’t that the kind of stuff he liked, women, sex and swear words? And if sometimes his mind wandered to Seokjin... well, who needed to know? That was nobody’s business but his own.
2015 was a terrible year for Namjoon.
Awful. A succession of crises, one after the other. Until he finally had to surrender to himself and seek help, thanks to Yoongi’s advice, who more than anyone else understood how loud and chaotic Namjoon’s thoughts were. Too loud to quiet down alone. He needed outside help. And once he finally accepted this help, Namjoon was reborn. He discovered he was a completely different person.
He wasn’t Rap Monster. Rap couldn’t define his whole identity, his whole entire life. He didn’t want rap to become a cage. But above all, he wasn’t a monster, even if more than a few people had gone out of their way to make him believe otherwise. Kim Namjoon was a beautiful human being, with flaws, just like everyone else, someone who just needed to grow up, like a beautiful tree, and put down roots. But monstrous? Never. Well... maybe the debut hair, in retrospect.
Accepting himself and all his facets meant finally being able to accept the love that Seokjin had been offering him for years, but that he had never had the courage to embrace. People always said watching them was painful. Seokjin would get all awkward around him and end up saying the dumbest things. Irony had always been Seokjin’s weapon, both shield and sword. Namjoon, on the other hand, would retreat into his cold shell, the one he’d built for himself, even though it was obvious to everyone that he just wanted to let go. And so they went on like that for years. Until Namjoon decided he had had enough of himself. He had already killed himself out of his fears. It was time to be reborn.
His relationship with Seokjin wasn’t easy, not for the reasons you might think. Not being able to go out and have a pizza like a normal couple or even regular friends? That wasn’t the issue, given the lives they led, staying home was a luxury they cherished whenever they could. What if they couldn’t post a story on Instagram of their evenings together? Who cared? They didn’t even have Instagram. They couldn’t tell anyone about their relationship, but it’s not like they had that many friends to begin with.
The problems were different. The problem was that they were in a band, and couldn’t afford the luxury of fighting like any regular couple. A fight between them meant shaking the balance of the whole group. And that came with a heavy weight. The problem was that they dreamed of having a family, their own family. But not only did their country not allow it, neither did their status. Even though the seven of them had vowed to be on stage with dentures and hip replacements if necessary, it was clear they would eventually have to slow down. They were human beings too, with a life and the right to live it however they chose. Maybe, as they got older, they would be able to live their love stories openly, without feeling like criminals just because they’d found someone. But for the two of them, would that moment ever come? No, it was unthinkable. They would have to spend their lives in silence, living their love like they were still teenagers. Like it was just a fling, just a phase. Even if one day South Korea legalized same-sex marriage, the idea of them getting married was out of the question. Not only were they two men, they were also two members of the most famous band in the world. Too much media attention, too many rumors, too much gossip, too many expectations. And hadn’t they had enough of that already?
And then there was the issue that had been looming over them for years, one they had chosen to ignore. At one point, they had even allowed themselves to believe it might not turn out to be a real problem. That maybe someone in that country would finally notice all the effort they had put in, not just for the love of music and art, but out of genuine love for their country. But when they realized that being exempted would mean living their careers under constant blackmail, that they would become puppets in the hands of whichever politician was in power, Seokjin decided he’d had enough. He was done. It was time to go, and he would be the first. The others, of course, agreed. They didn’t need anyone’s permission, least of all Bang Sihyuk's. He was too busy turning their blood, sweat and tears into a luxury mansion in the States, where he could host yet another controversial, morally questionable figure who would damage their reputation despite their otherwise spotless and quietly political careers.
"Ajusshi, to Goyang Stadium," Namjoon told the taxi driver.
HYBE always offered him a private driver whenever he had a few days off and returned to Seoul. But Namjoon, who had never really been into the superstar lifestyle to begin with, had now, more than ever, gotten used to being just a regular person. Taking a normal taxi was one of those small, grounding things that made him feel human again.
The driver, who either didn’t recognize him or pretended not to, nodded. On the radio, ironically enough, they were talking about Coldplay’s concerts in Seoul. Six shows, and the last one was happening that very night. They played The Astronaut, which Seokjin would be singing on stage with Chris that evening.
Namjoon hated that fucking song. He hated it with every fiber of his being. Every time he heard even a note of it, he was taken straight back to the fall of 2022, those days that had seemed to fly by and drag on all at once. Those last few nights they had spent together, pretending nothing was happening, pretending they still had all the time in the world, when they both knew they didn’t.
After deciding to enlist, they had sat down and carefully mapped out their future, before and after the military. Between solo promotions, discharges, and tours, Namjoon and Seokjin would reunite and continue their relationship in the late 2025. That meant years. All those years were an abyss, especially at their age. Would they still recognize each other? Still love each other? The mandatory service would strip them of everything-their personalities, their identities. It would turn them into emotionless, feelingless soldiers. Would they ever get all that back? Or maybe it wouldn’t be as tragic as they feared. No one could say for sure, but Namjoon was terrified.
So terrified that his anxiety, long dormant, returned to torment him at night. He would wake up drenched in sweat, immediately reaching for Seokjin. He hasn’t left yet, he would repeat to himself. He’s still here, right next to me.
The Astronaut passed. Indigo came and went, though Namjoon barely remembered much of those hectic weeks, and then came that thirteenth of December.
Namjoon arrived at the military base with Jimin. He had already seen Seokjin with his shaved head. Seokjin had come home the day before without a warning, looking like that. He had tried to make a joke out of it, but had failed miserably. Namjoon broke down crying, just like Jungkook and Yoongi had, Seokjin later told him. They spent the night wrapped in each other’s arms, Namjoon gently caressing Seokjin’s shaved head, reassuring him that he was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen, promising to love him even years from now.
But Seokjin had made up his mind: they couldn’t know what would happen. Four years were a chasm. He couldn’t ask Namjoon to wait. If there was even the slightest chance he could meet someone new and build something with them, he had every right to. Their lives were becoming too complicated, and even after the military, things wouldn't get any simpler, if anything, they might get worse. He had waited to tell Namjoon because he wanted to live those final days of normality, and he didn’t want to give him a chance to argue. His mind was made up, period. He loved Namjoon and always would-he promised-but he had to let him go.
So, that morning, Namjoon had to put on the most neutral face he could muster and pretend nothing was wrong. On camera, he said he was worried about his hyung because he hated the cold and it was snowing. But in truth, his heart was shattered into a thousand pieces. He was losing the love of his life to snow and camouflage uniforms.
That morning, he and Seokjin had parted ways for the first time in twelve years. It was like learning how to walk all over again. He shut himself off completely. He didn’t reach out to the others, and they didn’t reach out to him. He knew they were worried, but he couldn’t face them and explain what had happened. He couldn’t sit with them and pretend everything was fine. That life went on without Seokjin. Because it didn’t.
The landscape outside the window zipped by, countryside slowly giving way to roads and city buildings. There was still some time to go, but the stadium wasn’t far now. And neither was Seokjin.
Namjoon began working on his album, completely unplanned and spontaneous. It wasn’t a smart move, he knew it would delay his enlistment by months. And he knew the album wouldn’t be well received. At least, not by the general public. It would be experimental, raw, real. He wasn’t doing it for the charts, the awards, or the numbers. He was doing it for himself and for anyone else who felt as lost as he did. If even one person fumbling through the dark like him, found hope in it, then it was all worth it. Nothing else mattered.
During the album process, he met so many people. Slowly, the holes in his chest began to fill. He found friends he felt would be around for a long time. People who treated him like one of them. Just a regular musician who loved making music. People who understood him, who didn’t twist his words like so many others did. But no matter who he met, who he clubbed with-yes, he clubbed now!-or who he went out with, the void Seokjin had left behind was too big to be filled. He had a stigma on his chest, and it was called Kim Seokjin.
Maybe, thinking it over, performing Come Back to Me on a whim just because he had found out Seokjin was in the audience had been reckless. Especially since the performance was being recorded for a cinema screening. But he couldn’t help himself. He had written that song with Seokjin in his mind and needed him to hear it. To tell him-look at me. It’s been nearly a year, and I’m still the same. Actually, I’ve changed, but I still love you. I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you. Come back to me.
Seokjin had waved to him with a smile, standing near Hoseok. They had taked a photo backstage, and then Seokjin had returned to his base after a quick dinner. That was how things were now: random run-ins whenever one of them had a break. Never the two of them alone. They tried to keep a façade of normalcy. Namjoon commenting on Seokjin’s posts, Seokjin mentioning RM in interviews, Namjoon dedicading songs to Seokjin in his Instagram stories (maybe, that hadn't been a smart choice). But the words they had exchanged in two years could be counted on one hand.
Namjoon arrived at the stadium, wearing a mask and cap, and quietly headed to his entrance. His fashion designer friend, now one of his closest, was waiting there. They greeted each other and slipped in discreetly. Namjoon managed that pretty well, despite everything. And he was glad. He hated when people took secret photos of him. What fun was there in snapping a pic of someone on a bus? Or in a library? Or eating at a restaurant? He never understood why people were so obsessed with knowing where the seven of them were, how they spent their time, or who they were with. What did their personal lives have to do with the music and art they created? Why was giving up privacy and freedom the price of being an artist?
Namjoon knew that night Seokjin would perform again with Chris. That’s why he had chosen to come to the final concert, he couldn’t make it to the previous one. So, he took a few vacation days, he needed to use them up anyway, and dropped a message in the group chat saying he’d be there. No one else could make it. So, Seokjin knew.
Seokjin stepped on stage to sing The Astronaut, and Namjoon’s eyes filled with tears. Not everyone around him knew about their past, so he had to keep a straight face. He also knew someone might be filming him. He pulled out his phone and started recording, just to have something to do. He would probably watch that video again at the barracks, in the half hour he had to use his phone. He might even memorize it.
Seokjin was...Seokjin was glowing. Since finishing his military service, Seokjin had been so energetic, so full of life that Namjoon couldn’t help but fall in love with him all over again, even from afar. He was busy, he rarely even messaged the group chat. Every day there was a new video, a new Run Jin, a new interview. Namjoon was so happy that Seokjin could finally enjoy life without the looming shadow of enlistment. He could finally express himself more freely, focus on his career. That performance was just one of many things Seokjin had been preparing. Seeing him on that stage filled Namjoon with pride, because the Seokjin from fifteen years ago would never have dared to picture himself up there alone. But it also made Namjoon painfully jealous. He would have given anything to end the torture and go back to living for music-the only thing that had ever truly protected and carried him through.
The roar of the crowd and the glare of the spotlights pulled him back, just for a second, his brain tricked him into thinking he was the one on that stage, standing next to Seokjin. His bones were vibrating, and he started to feel almost restless, like he had an urgent need to climb over the barricades and get on that damn stage. Because that was where he was supposed to spend his days, where they were supposed to spend their days.
A wave of pride and envy tangled together with something Namjoon had never expected to feel. When Chris hugged Seokjin and spun him around in the air, Namjoon felt jealous. It was so irrational that after a few seconds he chuckled to himself, shaken by the ridiculousness of it all. Not only was the frontman basically married, but he was like an older brother to Seokjin, to all of them a friend, a confidant. Maybe Namjoon missed Seokjin more than he had realized.
Besides, Namjoon had never been jealous of Seokjin before. They would spend 360 out of 365 days together, side by side. And even when they were surrounded by the most famous, most beautiful people in the world, literally, Seokjin’s eyes had always been on him, like there was nothing else in the world that interested him. And Namjoon had always met those eyes with his own, because nothing else mattered.
Seokjin.
Seokjin.
Seokjin.
"Ya, Namjoon-ah!" Seokjin exclaimed, like they didn't spend the last two years ignoring each other, when he saw him walk into the green room where Chris Martin was chatting with Psy.
Namjoon was greeted with a warm hug from Chris, who immediately started asking how he was doing in the military, how much longer he had left, and if he was holding up okay. Namjoon opted for diplomatic answers, because saying he was sick of that shit and counting the days to go back to his fucking life didn’t exactly seem polite. Seokjin also snapped a photo of them.
Then they were alone, waiting for a taxi HYBE had sent to take them…wherever it was they were supposed to go. But what Seokjin didn’t know was that Namjoon had spent the entire ride there turning their story over in his head, thinking about their past. And that he’d come to a decision, one he didn’t intend to let go of so easily.
“Hyung, I need to talk to you,” Namjoon broke the silence, looking Seokjin straight in the face. Seeing him up close was so different from seeing him on a screen, like he had gotten used to. He had almost forgotten how beautiful he was. For a moment, he felt intimidated, but he clenched his teeth and held his gaze.
Seokjin’s expression suddenly turned serious. He nodded, and they decided to go to Seokjin’s place, because Namjoon’s probably didn’t even have a bottle of water in the fridge.
Seokjin’s apartment was…comically empty. White, as Namjoon pointed out. Spacious and…sparse. Seokjin didn’t care much for interior design, comfort came before aesthetics. If something was comfortable, it was good enough, even if it was an eyesore. But it was cozy in its own way, with food always stocked in the fridge, a guest room fully equipped for sleepovers, and spare slippers for visitors. Namjoon noticed his own slippers, the ones he kept at Seokjin’s, were still there, right next to Seokjin’s, in the entryway cabinet. They had bought them during a tour. Seokjin had pink ones, and his were blue. They were hideous, and they had laughed about them for days. Namjoon ignored the stab in his chest that nearly buckled him and slid them on, following Seokjin into the living room.
The place hadn’t changed a bit over the years. Not even the photos on the walls, pictures of Bangtan and pictures of just the two of them.
“Did I go off-key?” Seokjin asked, handing him a glass of whiskey as he sat down on the couch next to him.
“What? No, you didn’t go off-key. I don’t even think you’re capable of that,” Namjoon answered sincerely, adjusting his glasses. Since joining the military, he’d started preferring glasses to contacts. Contacts were more comfortable, sure, but less practical. Plus, he’d put on a few pounds, and the glasses helped cover up his now fuller cheeks.
“Flattery’s not gonna get you anywhere, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin said, smacking his arm and smiling. They hadn’t been alone like this since 2022. To Namjoon, it felt like no time had passed at all. Why hadn’t he made this decision sooner?
“I like them,” Seokjin said, smiling, pointing to his cheeks. He could still read him perfectly.
“I guess I need to start dieting soon,” Namjoon confessed, lowering his gaze. It wasn’t that he felt insecure about his looks, at least not like he used to. But it was easy to slip into stereotypes and expectations. It happened even to him, no matter how much he liked to tell himself he was over it.
“Namjoon-ah, don’t,” Seokjin pleaded.
“They’re really cute. You look… healthy. Like you’re living well, despite everything,” he smiled softly, maybe a little emotionally.
“Hyung, I need to talk to you,” Namjoon repeated, taking a sip of alcohol for courage. Seokjin went serious again, staring into his glass, swirling it gently.
“Namjoon-ah, I know. You told me. But it’s been years since we’ve had time alone like this. I know it’s selfish, but… can I enjoy this moment before you tell me you’ve found someone?” Seokjin asked, his eyes suddenly vulnerable, sending chills down Namjoon’s spine.
“What?” he asked, once his brain caught up with what Seokjin had said.
“You haven’t talked to me in years, even though we promised to stay friends. We swore our relationship wouldn’t come between our friendship. But we’ve been ignoring each other for years now,” Seokjin pointed out, recalling their last conversation.
“I respected your decision to step away and didn’t reach out. But now you’re here, and I can guess why. So… can we talk a little longer before we get into all that?”
Namjoon shifted on the couch, thrown by how Seokjin had jumped to that conclusion. But he didn’t clear it up right away.
“Tell me, haven’t you found someone?” he asked, almost challengingly, taking another sip. Seokjin looked at him, almost stunned, like he’d been outraged.
“I told you I’d probably die alone before I found anyone else. And I was okay with that.”
Namjoon breathed out in relief. He hadn’t found anyone else.
“Well, it’s not okay. Why does it have to be okay?”
“So you haven’t found anyone else?” Seokjin asked again, just to be sure. Namjoon shook his head.
“But I… I thought, with the way you were living before you enlisted… You know, the others told me about your group of friends, the ones you made the album with. You isolated yourself and disappeared for months. I thought maybe you’d met someone. Namjoon-ah, are you lying to me? Don’t lie. I was the one who told you to move on if the opportunity came up. It wouldn’t be wrong,” Seokjin said, pinning him with a look that kept Namjoon rooted to the couch.
“Seokjin-ah, can you stop saying that?!” Namjoon burst out. “You said that before you enlisted, and like an idiot, I allowed you. But that’s enough now” his voice cracked with frustration. Seokjin looked at him, lost.
“When you left me, I didn’t say a word because you caught me off guard. You waited till the last second, so I couldn’t even react. And know this-I’m still pretty pissed about it,” Namjoon finally said, letting out everything he’d been holding in for two years.
“I’m sorry. But it had to be done. It would’ve been stupid to chain ourselves to a relationship with no future.”
“No future for you. I always imagined my future with you in it. What are four years compared to a whole life?” Namjoon stood up, his voice rising with emotion.
“Can you stop being a tortured poet and come back down to earth?” Seokjin snapped, bitter tension behind his smile. “We saw each other what, three times in two years? And you didn’t even speak to me. How were we supposed to make it work?”
“I didn’t talk to you because it felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest every time I tried,” Namjoon admitted, gripping his hair, trying to keep calm.
“At Yoongi’s concert…I sang that song to you and you…nothing. No reaction. What would you call that if not ignoring me?”
“What was I supposed to say? That I made a mistake? That I never should’ve let you go?” Seokjin asked, rhetorically.
“Of course it was a mistake. I realized it the second I stepped into that damned base. I spent the first five weeks with no outside contact, stuck in my head, thinking about you, about how much you were hurting, about how much I was hurting. But I still think it was the right call. Love isn’t chaining someone to you,” he repeated.
“Well, love isn’t throwing in the towel that easily, either. Not after everything we went through,” Namjoon said, sinking back into the couch, wiping away a tear he hadn’t meant to shed.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, but I was hurting too. And I did what I did because I love you. And I would’ve hated myself if you ever felt stuck because of me,” Seokjin said from behind the couch, placing a hand on his shoulder. Namjoon covered it with his own, closing his eyes.
“I never felt stuck to you. I feel connected to you,” Namjoon whispered. “When you left me, I felt betrayed. I thought we were on the same wavelength.”
It was time to bare everything, say it now or stay silent forever.
“I’m sorry you felt that way, but I genuinely thought I was doing the right thing-for you. All I’ve ever wanted was the best for you.”
Seokjin came around the couch and sat beside him again.
“When you left me alone, I spent a month inside my house. I barely even spoke to my parents. Eventually, my sister dragged me out and told me to get it together. I was like a ghost,” Namjoon confessed. Thinking back to those moments brought even more tears.
"Namjoon-ie..." Seokjin whispered, pulling him into a hug immediately, wrapping his arms around him protectively.
"When we first got together, we said we knew the risks. That it would be tough, hard. But that we would do everything we could for our relationship. Why did you forget that?" Namjoon asked in a small voice, clutching Seokjin’s sleeve, voice muffled against Seokjin's shirt.
Namjoon was six feet tall, the tallest in his group. He was the leader, the fast-talking rapper always standing at the front to protect the others. Only in Seokjin’s arms could he be what he truly was: a fragile and deeply sensitive young boy. That was another thing he loved about Seokjin. How he made him feel protected and cared.
"We were younger back then. I thought that..."
"Whatever you thought, you were wrong. I felt abandoned, you know that? It was suffocating!" Namjoon accused, poking a finger into Seokjin’s chest.
"Joon-ah, I... I'm sorry. I really am," Seokjin insisted. "But it wasn't easy for me either. I was scared, confused. I reacted on instinct, out of fear. But please believe me when I say that I would’ve never done it if I thought it would hurt you. Everything I do, I do because of what I feel for you. I would never, ever do anything to hurt you."
Namjoon didn’t answer, at a loss for words. Seokjin stayed completely still for a while, like he was afraid even moving would shatter something fragile. The half-empty glass on the coffee table trembled slightly, reflecting the warm light from the lamp near the couch. It was all silence, except for the ticking clock in the kitchen and the sound of someone holding their breath because they had too much to say and no way to say it.
Namjoon couldn’t look at him. He felt his heartbeat pounding in his temples, his voice stuck in his throat. Seokjin’s silence, this time, wasn’t defensive. It was heavy. As if every word left unsaid was a stone dragging him down.
Then Seokjin stood up. Without a word, he disappeared down the hallway. Namjoon heard him fumbling around in a room, slow, hesitant steps. He came back with something in his hands: a box. A simple, thick cardboard box. He handed it to Namjoon without a word. Namjoon took it. When he lifted the lid, the air caught in his throat. There were letters. The ones Seokjin had written in the first five weeks of his enlistment but never sent. Not only letters. Faded post-its, notes tucked into books, doodles drawn with highlighters on the backs of random papers. Fragments from a time when Seokjin wanted to speak to Namjoon more than anything else in the world, but couldn't do so. And so, he picked the habit of writing whenever he wanted to talk to him. Everytime he had something to tell him, even the most stupid things, he would grab the first piece of paper he could find and write down. Then, it had become an habit. Even when he could just write a damn message, he continued to talk with the paper.
"I couldn't bring myself to throw them away," Seokjin said, his voice barely audible.
Namjoon stroked a piece of paper folded into quarters. He recognized Seokjin's shaky handwriting. His eyes grew wet once again.
"Why are you giving them to me now?" he asked.
"Because you need to know," Seokjin said. "That I never forgot you. Not even for a second. That every decision I made, even the painful ones, I made because I thought it was what was best for you. Not for me."
"And who asked you to decide for me?" Namjoon whispered, feeling his voice break.
"I wanted you by my side. Even on the worst days. Especially on the worst days."
Seokjin knelt in front of him. He took one of Namjoon’s hands in his own. His touch was just the same, warm, tentative, delicate, as if he was still scared of hurting him. As if, after all this time, he still didn’t trust himself enough to really touch him.
"And now?" Namjoon asked, staring into his eyes. "Now that we're standing here again, face to face? What do we do?"
Seokjin swallowed hard. His hands trembled, just a little. But he didn’t let go.
"Now... you're still in the military. And I have a tour coming up," Seokjin brought them back to reality.
"We spent so many years loving each other, and you still think we could ever stop?" Namjoon asked, running a hand through Seokjin’s hair. It was still soft, just like he remembered.
"No, I never thought that," Seokjin said, closing his eyes to savor Namjoon's touch after all those years. "I just wanted to set you free. I know how much you hate feeling trapped, without a choice."
"I never felt trapped with you," Namjoon said, straightening his back to look at his hyung more clearly.
"Before you? All the time. But never with you. I spent my life pretending to be something I wasn’t. That was the real cage. You showed me a different way to live," Namjoon said, deciding to finally spill every thought, every realization he hadd had over almost eighteen months in that remote base on the border.
"I didn’t do anything, Namjoon-ie. You’re the one who changed. You grew. I was just standing by your side, watching how much you suffered. It was all you, your hard work. I had nothing to do with it," Seokjin insisted, shaking his head and wiping away the tears still escaping Namjoon's eyes. He had held them back for too long, not having even a scrap of privacy where he had been living for months.
"It was you who changed me," Seokjin said firmly.
"Without your determination and ambition, I wouldn't be here today. I wouldn’t even have my own ambitions. When everyone said I was just a pretty face and nothing more, you were the one who told me not to believe them, to believe in my talent instead. And when I couldn’t believe in myself, you did it for me," Seokjin’s voice cracked, a rare thing, he almost never cried. He hated showing his emotions, not because he wanted to be mysterious, but because he was shy about being a burden to those around him.
"Because you’re the most talented person I know. Maybe after Jungkook-ie, but he’s on another level entirely", Namjoon smiled through his tears, thinking of how much he missed having Jungkook around to bother him.
"Hyung, can you believe in us again? In what we have?" Namjoon pleaded, taking both Seokjin’s hands and resting his forehead against them, closing his eyes. He didn’t want to see Seokjin’s face if the answer was no.
"Please. I know it’ll be hard, but please, I can't take it anymore. These years were the worst of my life. Compared to this, the training years were a vacation. Because we were together. I don’t care if I have to wait another fifteen years to have you by my side again. As long as I know I’ll have you back eventually. Since 2022, I haven’t stopped thinking about you or loving you. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that proof enough?" he begged, throwing away whatever pride he had left.
"Namjoon-ie, I don’t need any proof," Seokjin said gently, lifting Namjoon’s face with his hands so he could look him in the eyes. "I know you love me. That was never the issue. Love has never been a problem between us. I was just scared that you...that you might feel trapped," he repeated.
"Never," Namjoon said, firmly.
"You know how it is on tour. I won’t even have time to breathe. And the different time zones..." Seokjin warned him, serious. "And when we get back to group activities, we'll be so busy we won't even have time to look in the mirror. Not to mention the world’s eyes on us-we'll have to be way more careful than before. No slip-ups," he said, making sure Namjoon understood what they were really getting into.
"I don’t care," Namjoon said simply, looking away even as his heart pounded wildly in his chest. It felt like it might explode. "I didn’t care when we used to sneak out of the dorms. I didn’t care when we wandered around Malta all night, risking getting caught. I didn’t care when we caught COVID together and people started speculating. I just don’t care. I don’t work without you."
"Namjoon-ah, this time it’s forever, you understand? If we get back together now, we’re never breaking up again. Forever. Do you get what I’m saying?" Seokjin asked, his eyes huge and pleading.
Namjoon smiled through his tears. Without even thinking, he leaned in slowly toward Seokjin, his heart thudding loud in his chest. Seokjin, in disbelief, didn’t move away, letting the moment wash over him. Their lips met in a kiss, soft and full of emotion, a kiss that said more than a thousand words, two souls finally recognizing each other again. The contact was warm, almost burning, and every breath tasted of unspoken promises and shared dreams, now on the verge of becoming real. Namjoon felt his body respond, the desire growing with every second, as he let himself go, completely vulnerable, into that immortal embrace. The world around them faded away, leaving only that kiss, a moment of pure truth between two souls who had finally found their way back to each other.
“I can’t wait to see you with white hair, Grandpa Seokjin.”
“Shut up,” Seokjin replied, blushing. Every time he made Seokjin blush, Namjoon gave himself a silent high five.
“Jimin will be on cloud nine,” whispered Seokjin, smiling softly.
That night, The Astronaut came down from the Moon and finally returned to his beloved Earth.