Chapter Text
me
hey joon open ur door pls
i tried knocking but i know you have ur headphones on
hyung brought coffee
and hotteok
:]
Kim Namjoon
sorry couldnt hear u
one sec
Yoongi can hear shuffling on the other end, and soon the doors open. He looks down and is met with Namjoon in a yellow sweater. The younger smiles, that beaming, dimpled smile of his.
“You could’ve just come in hyung, my passcode hasn’t changed,” Namjoon steps aside, letting Yoongi in.
“Didn’t wanna bother you in case you were working on something,” Yoongi replies, closing the door behind him. He doesn’t miss when Namjoon mumbles ‘You could never bother me, hyung,’ under his breath. His heart squeezes.
“Skipping leg day today, Joon-ah?” Yoongi chuckles, noticing Namjoon’s prostheses leaning against one of his Kaws figurines.
“Did legs yesterday. Decaf?” Namjoon asks, making grabby hands for the coffee.
“Always. Have a seat on the couch Joon-ah, hyung will heat up the hotteok for you,” Yoongi answers, walking towards the kitchenette in the corner of the studio.
“Don’t have to do that,” Namjoon mutters, waddling towards the couch and climbing on, careful not to spill the coffee.
Yoongi ignores Namjoon’s reply and puts the hotteok in the fancy, fancy microwave Seokjin insisted he buy them. The whole kitchenette was Seokjin’s idea, really. The interior designer insisting he install something in both their studios to assure him his two idiot dongsaengs won’t accidentally starve themselves to death ‘in pursuit of art’.
The microwave beeps, and Yoongi takes the hotteok out, walking towards the couch where Namjoon is sipping on his coffee. Yoongi notices he has one hand on his right stump, pushing on the area.
“Careful,” Yoongi hands Namjoon the hotteok and goes to sit next to him, gently nudging his hand away.
“Tell hyung if it hurts too much,” Yoongi starts massaging the area, remembering the moves Namjoon’s physiotherapist taught him can help the younger with his phantom pain.
“What kind of hotteok is this, hyung?” Namjoon asks, wide eyes making him look so young. He takes what Yoongi has dubbed Namjoon’s “small-big bites”, taking three of the smallest, big bites his mouth can manage. Yoongi fights the urge to kiss him.
“Maple. Taehyung recommended this spot he found with Wooshik-hyung when they were filming last month. Said it was the best hotteok he’s ever had,” Yoongi moves his thumbs over Namjoon’s stump, kneading gentle circles over the residual limb.
“It’s really good,” Namjoon mumbles, cheeks full, then brings the hotteok to Yoongi’s mouth. Yoongi takes a small bite.
“Hyung is full, you finish the rest, Joon-ah, it’s all for you,” Yoongi briefly pauses massaging to wipe some syrup off the side of Namjoon’s lips. Namjoon blushes, Yoongi pretends to not notice as he moves to massage his left stump.
“How’s your song with Suran-noona going?” Namjoon mumbles through another bite.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Yoongi scolds, though the smile on his face betrays him.
“It’s going well, I was able to submit the final draft in today. Hopefully it’s the final draft, unless either one of us suddenly hates it and decides it’s not.”
Namjoon laughs, Yoongi’s heart soars.
“I was able to work on that song for Tablo-hyung today. I was wondering if you could give it a listen and tell me what you think?” Namjoon asks, expression suddenly nervous.
Yoongi lays a hand on Namjoon’s thigh, thumb rubbing the area, “Finish your hotteok and we can listen to it together, Joon-ah.”
“You want to listen to it now?” Namjoon’s expression is a mixture of surprised and anxious.
“Unless you don’t want me to?”
“No, no. Yeah. Let’s listen to it now, thanks hyung,” Namjoon rushes to finish his hotteok, taking even bigger small-big bites.
“Slow down, Joon-ah, relax. It’s just me. I also just fed you sugar at 6 pm so we have all the time in the world right now,” Yoongi chuckles, placing his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder.
Namjoon finishes off the hotteok and hops off the couch, waddling towards his desk. He climbs onto his work chair and launches Cubase, the file already open. Namjoon presses play. Music starts playing through his expensive, expensive speakers. Yoongi listens.
○○○
“Hello? Am I speaking to Min Yoongi?”
“Yes, who is this?”
“I’m calling from SNU Hospital, you are listed here as Kim Namjoon’s emergency contact.”
Yoongi remembers his heart sinking, sinking, sinking.
“There has been an accident, Yoongi-ssi.”
Sinking, sinking, sinking.
“He was in a taxi, it was a rollover collision. The driver is very shaken up, but he’s okay.”
“The other driver was a DUI, t-boned at over 100 kph, died at the scene. Namjoon-ssi took the majority of the hit.”
“He lost a lot of blood, we’re trying to stabilise him.”
“His seatbelt crushed his ribs and punctured a lung.”
“He presented with a subarachnoid haemorrhage, we had to open the skull to stop the bleeding.”
“His legs were pinned under the door, there was no way for us to save them.”
Sinking, sinking, sinking.
Yoongi remembers pacing in the waiting room for hell knows how long. He remembers Hoseok, selfless, selfless Hoseok who was on the phone with him the entire time. He remembers seeing a new family celebrate the birth of their child, ‘It’s a girl!’, and hating himself for not feeling even slightly happy for them. He remembers one of the surgeons walking up to him, telling him that Namjoon is stable. He remembers dropping to his knees, sobbing, sobbing, sobbing.
Yoongi remembers walking through the door of Namjoon’s room for the first time and seeing him on the bed. Head covered in flannel bandages. Endotracheal tube. Countless monitors going beep, beep, beep. The bottom of his knees wrapped in so much gauze and elastic bandages they look like marshmallows, followed by a void where Namjoon’s long, long legs once were. Sutures, tubes, electrodes, wires, everywhere, everywhere.
The first thing Yoongi did was laugh.
“You look like when I tried to dress like the zombies in that haunted house, Joon-ah,” Yoongi laughs to himself, but he can feel tears falling on his face. He brings his hand up, daring to touch the younger on the cheek, so, so afraid to cause any more damage.
“Do you remember that trip, my love? Jin-hyung and Hobi were scared shitless, I think Hobi lost his shoe or something trying to run away,” Namjoon’s skin was still so soft.
Yoongi sits there, for five minutes, twenty minutes, four hours, who fucking knows, caressing the tiny, tiny part of Namjoon’s face that isn’t obstructed by sutures or bandages or tubes or electrodes or wires.
“Please wake up, Joon-ah,” Yoongi whispers, bringing his hand down to hold Namjoon’s, “Hyung promised to cook you suyuk, remember?”
“I even called Jungkook to ask for his recipe. The kid was ready to cancel his show and fly back from fucking New York just to cook some for you himself, you know?” Yoongi chokes on a laugh, tears dripping down his chin. He kisses the back of Namjoon’s hand, fingers so, so cold. It felt wrong, wrong, wrong.
“I can’t tell Jungkook his favourite hyung won’t wake up, Joon-ah,” Yoongi sobs. He rests his cheek on the bed, next to Namjoon’s hand, fingers caressing his knuckles.
“So please, wake up.”
●●●
“Hyung?” Yoongi hadn’t realised he’d spaced out.
“Yes, Joon-ah?”
“I was asking if you thought the bass in the bridge might be a bit too much? I’ve sent it to Tablo-hyung, but he hasn’t responded and I don’t know if what I can hear is true to what everyone else can,” Namjoon explains, looking at Yoongi expectantly. Yoongi doesn’t miss how he fiddles with his hearing aid.
The temptation is there for Yoongi to blindly praise Namjoon. To tell him that his work is always great and he can do no wrong. But Yoongi knows all too well how that feels. How it feels to build up the courage to ask someone to look at your work. Unfinished, unpolished, still vulnerable in areas, much like the artist behind it, just for it to be lazily dismissed as ‘great.’
So no, Yoongi isn’t going to do that. He’s going to respect Namjoon as a fellow writer and producer in this industry as much as he adores Namjoon as his husband.
“Sorry, Joon-ah, I spaced out a little at the end there, do you mind playing it for hyung again?”
Namjoon looks relieved, “Of course,” and presses play.
○○○
“Namjoon-ssi suffered quite a severe traumatic brain injury from the collision. He presented with a subarachnoid haemorrhage when he was brought in. We were able to stop the bleeding, though we fear he may suffer some permanent effects from the injury. We’ve put him in an induced coma to help with the swelling for now.”
“Namjoon-ssi’s EEG has shown that he has suffered a number of seizures from the time he’s left the OR. His ABR and ASSR results so far show moderately severe to severe hearing loss.”
●●●
“It sounds great, Joon-ah, but I personally think the hi-hats in the last chorus can be turned down a bit. Just feels a bit peppy for a song this melancholic, otherwise I think Tablo-hyung will really like it,” Yoongi says, honest.
“Thanks, hyung. I’ll try and fix it,” Namjoon says, looking much, much too grateful.
“Leave it for tomorrow. Come on, let’s go home. My hyung sent over these black truffles from his trip to France and I wanna try making sandwiches with them,” Yoongi grabs Namjoon’s prostheses from the corner of the room, walking back and sitting on the floor.
“Okay, hyung,” Namjoon softly replies, putting his left stump out for Yoongi to attach his prosthesis to, whilst he puts on his right one.
They work silently, Yoongi making sure he doesn’t get any air trapped when donning the silicone liner on Namjoon’s stump. He picks up the left prosthesis and lifts it toward the limb, making sure it lines up. Yoongi waits as Namjoon makes sure both prostheses are level, before helping him stand up, allowing the younger to use his shoulder as support and find his balance.
“Good?” Yoongi asks, reaching down to hold Namjoon’s left hand, intertwining their fingers.
“Good,” Namjoon exhales, a small smile on his face, and out they go.
○○○
Yoongi is stood by the door, hovering with one foot still outside Namjoon’s room.
“Come sit.”
Yoongi forgot Namjoon’s family were coming to visit.
“Yoongi-yah? Come here, come sit,” Namjoon’s mother speaks again, everything about her identical to Namjoon. Yoongi walks over and sits as instructed, feeling like he’d been caught stealing.
“The audiologist came and fitted these hearing aids to Joonie earlier, said he should be able to hear us now. Don’t they look like those earphone things little Jungkook wears when he sings?” his mother smiles, hand rubbing the side of Namjoon’s face. Yoongi stays quiet.
“Would you like to hold his hand?” she asks, voice gentle, like talking to a stray cat that might run away.
Yoongi shakes his head, hating himself when he feels tears prickle behind his eyes.
“Come here, Yoongi-yah. I know our Joonie would much prefer holding your hand than mine, come,” she smiles again, and it’s so clear who gave Namjoon his beautiful, beautiful dimples.
Yoongi feels the first few tears roll down his cheeks, then he feels a hand on his shoulder. Namjoon’s father.
“Go on, Yoongi-yah. Sit with Joon,” his voice is gentle, too.
Yoongi obeys, moving next to Namjoon and gently grabbing his hand. They’ve changed the tubes and wires in them again. His hand is still cold, but it’s a little warmer now.
“One of the doctors said he’ll probably get a fever in the next few days from all the surgeries. Said they’re gonna give him some strong antibiotics to prevent any sepsis,” Namjoon’s father says, tone neutral. He has one hand on his wife’s shoulder, rubbing back and forth.
“Oh! Before I forget,” Namjoon’s mother gets up and walks to her bag, “His sister had to leave early to take her exams, but she made a bunch of these to thank the nurses and doctors. She made some for you, too.”
She hands him a Tupperware container, inside are two pieces of bungeoppang.
Yoongi starts sobbing.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he chokes out in between breaths. Because Namjoon’s parents are here. Because they’re in a fucking hospital room, where Namjoon is still unconscious and had his skull sliced open and his fucking legs cut off and lost his hearing and it’s all Yoongi’s fault. Because Yoongi couldn’t take care of him.
Yoongi realises a bit too soon that he’s having a panic attack, chest heaving and tight, tight, tight and the world getting blurry around him. He distantly recognises Namjoon’s mother placing a hand on his left cheek.
“Shh, shh, Yoongi-yah, it’s okay. Take deep breaths with me, like this.”
Yoongi tries his best to follow, breaths much shakier than hers, in and out and in and out and in and out. It takes a little more than a while, but he soon manages to calm down.
The sound of his quivering breaths fill the room, like the worst possible reverb to the beeps from the monitors surrounding Namjoon. Yoongi has never felt so embarrassed.
“I should’ve been there. I should’ve picked him up, not leave him to take a taxi home, I-”
“And what difference would that have made, Yoongi-yah? The drunk driver would’ve still been there. You both would’ve gotten hit instead.”
“I’m his boyfriend, I shouldn’t have left him like this, failed him like this-”
“I’m his mother, Yoongi-yah. Have I failed him, too?”
Yoongi’s mouth snaps shut, stunned. He sits there, breaths still shaky.
“Here, come eat this. You’re not allowed outside food in this room, so try and keep it hidden,” Namjoon’s mother whispers after a beat, opening the container and handing Yoongi a pastry.
Yoongi takes a bite, small and hesitant, and Namjoon’s mother smiles. She brings a hand to his cheek, wiping away his tears, then places the hand on his knee. They stay quiet like that for a while.
“It’s not your fault, Yoongi-yah.”
Yoongi cannot bear to listen to them, to hear them lie to him just to make him feel better. Because Namjoon’s parents are just like Namjoon, or he supposes Namjoon’s just like them. Kind, so kind. Much kinder than Yoongi will ever deserve. He keeps his head down.
“Yoongi-yah, look at me please. You need to get used to listening to me if you plan to be our son-in-law.”
Yoongi looks up so quickly he probably gives himself whiplash. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
“It’s okay, we’ve known for a while, you’re not the best at hiding it,” she chuckles, “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure Joonie doesn’t, our stupid bear is a little oblivious.”
Yoongi sits there, stunned, one hand holding a fish-shaped pastry and the other Namjoon’s hand. It’s comical, really.
“And of course, you have our blessing,” his mother adds, smile wide, wide, wide.
Yoongi looks up at Namjoon’s father to see him holding a similar expression, looking between his son, his wife, and Yoongi with the fondest look in his eyes.
“I don’t know if you’ve picked out a ring yet, but I can give you some tips on what impressed this one when I proposed,” he winks, hand rubbing up and down his wife’s back. Namjoon’s mother rolls her eyes.
“I’m not letting my son marry a man who blames himself for something that isn’t his fault, Yoongi-yah, that would be very impractical,” she says, looking at Yoongi with a twinkle in her eyes, “So please, don’t blame yourself for any of this. And finish all of the bungeoppang, our baby even added honey to it because she knows that’s how you and Joon like it.”
For the first time that day, Yoongi manages to smile.
“Thank you eomoni, abeonim.”
●●●
“Jimin finally finished that dance piece he’s been working on,” Yoongi mentions, hand intertwined with Namjoon’s, lightly swinging back and forth as they walk.
“Did he? That’s so great! He must have worked so hard, it’s been giving him grief for so long. When’s his performance, hyung? We have to go see him,” Namjoon’s eyes light up, always so excited to support those he loves.
“He’s not sure yet, Joon-ah,” Yoongi chuckles, “He said it might be later this month, he’ll let us know when he does.”
“We should throw him a party to celebrate his performance, hyung. Jungkook’s album is gonna come out at the end of this month too, and so is Taehyung’s movie. We should throw a party for all of them.”
“There, there, Joon-ah,” Yoongi laughs, squeezing the younger’s hand as they turn a corner, “Let’s wait until their projects are officially finished, yeah? I’m sure the kids would love to celebrate all of this, just give them time.”
“They’ve all worked so hard, hyung. They’re gonna do so well, I can’t wait to see everyone’s reaction to them.”
“Me neither, Joon-ah.”
○○○
Yoongi was scrolling through his phone, one hand holding Namjoon’s, looking at sign language courses when Namjoon wakes up.
“Hyung?”
It’s a weird feeling. The simultaneous relief and dread of realising that someone you love is alive, but in a body that neither of you are accustomed to. You almost feel too scared to be happy. Or at least that’s how Yoongi felt.
“Joon? Joon-ah? Can you hear me? Oh my god. I’m here, hyung’s here. Wait, do you want your glasses? Fuck, I should call a nurse.”
Namjoon lightly nods, and Yoongi hesitantly lets go of his hand to dig through his bag, finding his glasses. Yoongi gives the lenses a quick wipe, then gently places the glasses on Namjoon’s face, careful not to obstruct his hearing aids or oxygen mask or bandages.
Yoongi grabs a hold of Namjoon’s hand again, and goes to press the call button next to the bed.
“Hyung, don’t cry,” Yoongi hadn’t realised he was crying until he brought his hand to his face, quickly wiping away the wetness there.
Yoongi’s heart clenches when he sees Namjoon struggling to keep his breaths steady, chest heaving from the effort. It had only been two days since he got extubated.
Yoongi was about to reply to the younger, when he hears a knock on the door, a nurse popping her head in.
“Sorry to disturb you, but I see Namjoon-ssi has woken up. How are you feeling?” she asks, voice kind, walking over to the computer by the bed and looking over Namjoon’s medical notes.
“Good. Thank you for looking after me,” Namjoon wheezes, but Yoongi can see his eyes crinkle above the oxygen mask. Of course he’s smiling.
“It’s our pleasure, Namjoon-ssi. I’m going to do a few physical exams now, okay?” she replies, quickly typing on the computer and walking up to Namjoon, grabbing a pair of nitrile gloves by the bed.
Yoongi somewhat zones out when the nurse begins her exam. He vaguely registers her shining a light in Namjoon’s eyes, then pressing his jaw, then pulling out a stethoscope. Yoongi never lets go of Namjoon’s hand the entire time, feeling only slightly bad that the nurse has to work around him. The slight glint in her eye tells Yoongi she doesn’t mind too much, though.
The nurse goes back to the computer and starts typing some more. Yoongi can’t help but peek at some of Namjoon’s existing notes from where he’s sitting.
Presented with myocardial contusion from blunt force trauma, ECG showed abnormal sinus tachycardia, pacemaker placed; to be monitored
Ongoing – IV ivabradine 0.25 mg/kg
Pneumothorax from fractured rib puncture, needle aspiration performed
Ongoing – supplementary oxygen therapy; air reabsorption and lung expansion to be observed
Presented with subarachnoid haemorrhage, endovascular coiling performed, bleeding controlled
Ongoing – IV nimodipine 0.02%, IV dexamethasone 20 mg
EEG displays epileptiform abnormalities, spike-and-wave discharges on left temporal lobe
Focal seizures detected; to monitor for focal to bilateral tonic-clonics
ABR waves III & V absent, high-modulation ASSR thresholds – pt likely to suffer moderately severe to severe hearing loss
Ongoing – preliminary hearing aids placed; to check again once pt gains consciousness
Presented with double GA IIIB open tibial fractures, double below-knee amputation performed
Ongoing – IV cefoxitin 2 g; monitor for osteomyelitis & sepsis, fever may develop
“Everything is looking normal so far, Namjoon-ssi. I’ll call your doctors to check on you shortly, please alert us if you need anything,” the nurse finishes typing and smiles, quickly exiting the room.
Yoongi looks back at Namjoon and notices he’s already fighting to keep his eyes open.
“Go to sleep, Joon-ah,” Yoongi softly says, “You need all the sleep you can get.”
“No. Been sleeping for weeks. Right?” Yoongi can see Namjoon pouting through the mask.
“Being in an induced coma doesn’t count. And recovering is exhausting, remember how much you made me sleep after I got my appendix out? I was fine after two days but you insisted I take two weeks off work, and we were broke as shit back then,” Yoongi chuckles, rubbing his hand up and down Namjoon’s forearm.
“Go to sleep, Joon-ah, I’ll be here when you wake up.”
●●●
“Wait, hyung, can we stop at the convenience store first? Hobi told me about these shrimp chips that just came out and I wanna try them,” Namjoon asks as they approach the convenience store a few blocks away from their apartment.
“Let’s go,” Yoongi easily agrees, pulling Namjoon’s hand up the stairs toward the entrance.
Yoongi always thought of convenience stores as akin to airports. How you can walk in at any time of any day, and be met with people from any and every socioeconomic status and lifestyle.
You can see a homeless man gathering all his spare change to buy a chocolate bar and some cigarettes. You can see a businessman quickly walking in to get an energy drink, phone pressed to his ear against his shoulder, talking a mile a minute. You can see a group of teenagers count what’s left of their allowance to buy a slushie and some cheap lip balm. You can see a pair of boys, one taller in a yellow sweater, one shorter in a Fear of God hoodie, looking around for some shrimp chips.
Human judgement is both heightened and dampened in these stores, Yoongi thinks. Everyone is so focused on themselves, yet so eager to side-eye every person that walks by.
Namjoon and Yoongi separate in the store, Namjoon walking over to the chip aisle whilst Yoongi strolls by the front magazine display. His eyes fall on one particular magazine and he fails to hold back a laugh. Yoongi picks up the magazine, front cover showing a very unflattering picture of Taehyung, an obvious fake rumour plastered in bold letters underneath. He pulls his phone out and snaps a picture, sending it to the actor. To his friend.
Yoongi is in the middle of typing the caption, ‘eloped in Jeju, huh?’, when he hears Namjoon speaking to someone. In English.
“Yes, my legs are just like Iron Man’s, you’re right. Wanna touch ‘em?” Yoongi peeks down the chip aisle and sees Namjoon talking to a child, probably five years old, probably a foreigner. He holds his phone back up.
The child is about to approach Namjoon’s prostheses, little hand out, when a woman, who Yoongi assumes is his mother, comes rushing towards them.
“Ethan! Oh my god, I’m so sorry, did he bother you? I can’t really speak Korean, I’m sor-,”
“No worries, it’s all good. Ethan just seemed curious about my Iron Man legs, I was actually the one who offered to let him touch them,” Namjoon smiles, English words so natural to him, and bends down to place a hand on Ethan’s shoulder.
“Can I, mummy?” Ethan looks up at his mother, eyes wide. Yoongi smiles when he notices his two front teeth are missing.
“Only if the nice man says it’s okay. Sorry, what’s your name?”
“Joon, and Ethan is more than welcome to touch them.”
Yoongi watches Ethan bring his hand toward Namjoon’s right prosthesis, chubby fingers rubbing up and down the front.
“Can you fly, mister Joon?” Namjoon laughs, Ethan’s mother chokes.
“I sure can, but only on secret missions with Spiderman, so keep this a secret between you and me, okay?”
Ethan nods profusely, blue eyes wide.
“Well Ethan, it was a pleasure meeting you, but I think you have to go home and go to bed. It’s getting late and superheroes like you need plenty of sleep,” Namjoon announces, looking up at Ethan’s mother, dimples on proud display.
“Yeah, let’s go Ethan. Say goodbye to mister Joon,” his mother says, grabbing the child’s hand.
“Bye-bye mister Joon! Be careful fighting bad guys!” Ethan waves his tiny hand. Namjoon puts his hand out to give the kid a high-five, and Ethan tries to hit it as hard as he can before running away.
Namjoon just now notices that Yoongi had seen the whole thing.
“Got that all on camera, Joon-ah. Taehyung and Jimin are gonna lose it when I show this to them,” Yoongi smiles, walking up to Namjoon, holding his right hand out.
“Did you find your chips?” Yoongi asks, letting out a laugh when Namjoon pouts.
“They’re all sold out, hyung. I think Hobi posted a picture of them on his Instagram or something and all his fans must’ve bought it,” Namjoon whines, tone like a petulant child.
“He’s the most successful rapper in the country, I feel like he should’ve seen this coming. Jokes on him though, I doubt he can get a hold of these chips now, either. Remember what happened with Jungkook’s lemon drink thing?” Yoongi chuckles, Namjoon hasn’t stopped pouting.
“Come on. Let’s just go home, Joon-ah. Hyung’s sandwiches will be way better than those chips,” Yoongi smiles again, pulling Namjoon towards the exit.
“Did you get anything, hyung?”
“Nah, but look what I found out the front,” Yoongi whispers, walking by the exit and subtly pointing at the magazine with Taehyung’s face. He hears Namjoon snort.
They walk down the last few blocks to their apartment, the wind around them significantly colder, a light drizzle sprinkling down.
“As if Taehyung-ie wouldn’t throw the biggest wedding known to man and invite every person he’s ever made eye contact with,” Namjoon pipes up, Yoongi notices him shivering slightly.
“He’d even invite the dogs at Yeontan’s day care if he could, hyung,” Namjoon adds, going shy when Yoongi stops them to take his beanie off, putting it on the younger’s head.
“I think you might be right, Joon-ah,” Yoongi softly says, smiling as he pulls the beanie over Namjoon’s ears, making sure to cover his hearing aids so they don’t get wet.
Yoongi grabs Namjoon’s left hand again, noticing his fingers have gotten cold. He places their intertwined hands into the pocket of his hoodie. Namjoon’s cheeks go pink.
They soon arrive at their apartment building, rushing inside to get some warmth. They’re in front of the elevators, waiting for it to reach the lobby, when Namjoon speaks.
“I liked our wedding, hyung.”
Yoongi is taken by surprise. He doesn’t say anything, instead rubbing his thumb over the band he can feel around Namjoon’s ring finger.
The elevator arrives, doors opening, and the two enter. Yoongi presses the button to their floor, then turns to face the mirror at the back of the elevator.
He smiles at Namjoon through their reflection, leaning his head on the younger’s shoulder.
The elevator dings, and the two walk out. Namjoon keys in the passcode on their door lock and they step in.
Namjoon lets go of Yoongi’s hand and walks over to the living room, sitting on the couch to take his prostheses off. Yoongi stands by the shoe rack, slipping his own shoes off.
When Yoongi walks over to the couch, he sees Namjoon peeling his silicone liners off, still shivering.
“Bisoprolol annoying you today?” Yoongi softly asks, rubbing the younger on the shoulder. Namjoon sighs.
“I guess? Been struggling to get warm all day. Just feel kinda shaky,” the younger mumbles, rubbing his hands together to generate some heat.
“Dry yourself and change into something warmer after this. Hyung will make you hot chocolate,” Yoongi says, grabbing Namjoon’s prostheses and heading to the bathroom.
Namjoon waddles after him, hopping up to sit on the edge of their bathtub and grabbing a hand towel next to the sink. Yoongi turns the tap on, waiting for the water to turn lukewarm.
“I liked our wedding too, Joon-ah.”
Namjoon looks up from where he was staring at the ground, left dimple threatening to show.
“I mean it would’ve been nice to have a celebrant officiate our marriage and all. I’d love to be able to share my taxes with you,” Yoongi pumps some soap onto the prosthetic sockets and gives them a light scrub.
“But we’re two men living in South Korea, and given our circumstances at the time, I’d say our wedding was pretty fucking great,” Yoongi smiles as he rinses the sockets clean, passing it to Namjoon to dry.
Yoongi shakes the excess water off his hands and scoots over to stand in front of Namjoon. He takes his beanie off the younger’s head and lightly ruffles his hair. Namjoon smiles, moving on to disinfect his silicone liners.
Yoongi tilts Namjoon’s head forward, placing his chin on top. He closes his eyes, the sound of Namjoon wiping his prostheses filling their bathroom.
Yoongi takes a moment to take stock of their bathroom, how it’s bigger than their whole first apartment together. How the bathtub Namjoon is using as a bench definitely costs more than a whole month’s worth of rent.
Namjoon finishes drying his prostheses and puts them aside, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s waist, tucking his face in his stomach.
“Do you ever wish our wedding could’ve been bigger, hyung?” Namjoon suddenly asks, voice muffled by Yoongi’s clothes.
“I think the proximity to which Jimin and Jungkook almost reached alcohol intoxication from the amount of goddamn champagne they kept downing was big enough. Dumbasses tried to scale the balcony over the pool. Taehyung did too and I’m pretty sure he was sober,” Yoongi snorts, bringing his head down to kiss Namjoon on the forehead.
“Hobi was absolutely fucking smashed and I’m pretty sure he had like. Half a martini. It was good though, the dance party that ensued was so worth having to carry him home,” Yoongi adds, lightly massaging the back of Namjoon’s shoulders.
“I wish I was able to dance with you guys. Watching you guys was a sight, though,” Namjoon mumbles, turning his face to the side, forehead resting on Yoongi’s chest.
“You did dance with us, Joon-ah,” Yoongi runs his fingers through Namjoon’s hair. It’s so long now.
“I was barely able to stand up, hyung,” Namjoon laughs. To anyone other than Namjoon it would’ve come out sounding bitter. Coming from Namjoon, it sounds like genuine acceptance.
Yoongi gently pulls Namjoon’s head away from his chest, bringing the younger to look at him.
“You were there, Joon-ah. You were there and breathing unassisted and laughing at Taehyung trying to stuff a whole slice of cake in his mouth and rolling your eyes at Jin-hyung’s jokes and you were alive,” Yoongi doesn’t hide the way he has to clear his throat at the end.
Namjoon smiles, a little pink, a little wet. Yoongi puts his thumbs into each of his dimples.
“Yeah, hyung. I guess I was.”
○○○
Yoongi realises this is the first time he’s been alone with Namjoon, conscious, responsive Namjoon, in almost a month. Yoongi realises he’s spent the past few weeks too afraid to be in a room with him on his own. Always having Seokjin or Hoseok or Jimin or Taehyung or Jungkook on a FaceTime call with him, claiming he wants them to be able to talk to Namjoon, too, when really he’s just a fucking coward.
Yoongi realises he doesn’t know how to start a conversation with him anymore.
Yoongi realises he doesn’t have to.
“Severe hearing loss, huh?” Namjoon suddenly says, “Is that why I feel like I have cotton in my ears?”
Of course Namjoon read the nurse’s notes, too.
Yoongi sits there, wide-eyed and at a loss for words. He looks at Namjoon’s expression and tries to look for any anger or bitterness. He finds himself failing.
“It says that I got hearing aids. Can I see them, hyung?” Namjoon asks, voice soft, almost a child-like wonder to it. Not a hint of resentment.
“Oh. Of course, Joon-ah,” Yoongi reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, flipping the front camera around, angling it to the side of Namjoon’s head.
Namjoon turns his head as best he can with the hundred and one things attached to him, looking at his hearing aids on either side.
“They look like Jungkook’s in-ears, hyung,” he says with a smile, eyes crinkling.
“That’s what your mum said too, Joon-ah.”
“I’ve always wondered what it’s like to be as cool as our little Jungkook-ie. Can we show these to him? Maybe I can get them personalised like he does.”
Yoongi only realises he’s crying again when he feels a tear drop onto his lap.
“Jungkook thinks you’re the coolest person in the world, Joon-ah,” Yoongi quickly wipes his face, then brings his hand to the side of Namjoon’s face, caressing his ear.
“Do you wanna speak to him? The kid’s been dying to visit you for weeks, you have no idea. We all had to sit him down and convince him that his Rapmon-hyung would literally wake up from his induced coma and kill him if he cancelled his tour,” Yoongi explains, trying to get his tears to stop. Namjoon laughs, breathy and wheezy, and it’s the most beautiful thing Yoongi’s ever heard.
“We only managed to convince him by promising that I let him FaceTime you whenever I’m here. He talks to you when he’s in rehearsal, Joon-ah. Said it helps him ‘get in the zone’,” Yoongi clicks on Jungkook’s contact and presses call. He puts his phone on speaker, turning the volume up.
The line beeps exactly once before Jungkook picks up.
“Hello? Hyung? What happened? Is Rapmon-hyung okay? I’m in Tokyo right now but I can be in Seoul in less than three hours if you-”
“Jungkook-ah, breathe please, calm down,” Yoongi chuckles, he looks up to see Namjoon smiling.
“Is hyung okay?”
“Actually, Jungkook-ah, there’s someone here who would like to speak to you. Can you turn your camera on?”
“Is Rapmon-hyung awake?” Jungkook whispers, voice suddenly low. Yoongi turns his camera on, flipping his phone to face Namjoon.
The look on Jungkook’s face when he registers who he’s looking at is one Yoongi thinks neither he nor Namjoon will forget for a long, long time.
“Hyung? Hyung! Oh my god, hyung you’re awake. You’re awake. You’re really awake,” Yoongi hears the younger’s voice crack at the end, followed by a sniffle.
“How are you feeling, hyung? Does anything hurt? I was so scared, hyung. I wanted to see you so bad, but Yoongi-hyung told me you’d be sad if I cancelled my tour,” the younger sniffles again, bringing the sleeve of his black hoodie up to dab at his tears. Yoongi notices he’s in a dressing room.
“I’m okay, Jungkook-ah, sorry for worrying you,” Namjoon wheezes out, trying his best to speak as clearly as possible, “Actually, I wanted to show you something.”
Namjoon looks to Yoongi, signalling for him to move the camera towards his hearing aids. Yoongi smiles when he hears a gasp.
“Are those your hearing aids, hyung? They look like my in-ear monitors! Can you get them customised? I can ask my sound engineer to customise them for you if you want, they’ll look so cool,” Jungkook squeals, almost panting like an over-excited puppy.
Namjoon smiles, eyes so fond as he listens to Jungkook ramble on and on.
“What do they feel like, hyung? Do things sound, um, the same?” Jungkook asks, voice suddenly soft, timid.
“Honestly, I already had them on when I woke up, so I don’t actually know how bad my hearing loss is yet. But even with them on, everything sounds like I have cotton in my ears, or like I’ve been on a plane for hours and hours.” Namjoon admits, and Yoongi notices the way his eyes dim.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to hear your music properly anymore, Jungkook-ah. I’m sorry,” Namjoon suddenly adds, voice sounding so guilty.
“What? No, don’t apologise, hyung. You can hear me now can’t you? And we can all learn sign language together, or something. My latest song has this part at the end where the choreography is the lyrics in sign language and it was such a cool experience to learn.”
“Please don’t feel bad for anything, hyung, especially not something like this.”
“You’re right, Jungkook-ah, I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not,” Namjoon chuckles, “Sorry, I think I’m still taking this all in, but thank you for saying that Jungkook-ah, it means a lot to me,” Namjoon lightly shakes his head, smiling.
“Don’t you have a show tonight, Kook-ah? Go on, get to rehearsal. Your fans have probably been camping out for days for you,” Yoongi can see Jungkook hesitating, and notices that Namjoon can see it, too.
“Hyung will be okay, Jungkook-ah, it was great talking to you. We can call again after the show and you can tell me how it went, how about that?” Namjoon’s voice is so gentle, Yoongi can see Jungkook nodding.
“I’ll call you later okay, Rapmon-hyung? Get lots of rest. I love you.”
“I love you too, my little one. Don’t forget to say goodbye to Yoongi-hyung!” Yoongi turns the phone back to face himself.
“Nearly forgot about me, huh, brat?” Yoongi snorts, smiling.
“Sure did,” Jungkook winks, then softens, “Thanks for calling me, Suga-hyung, I’ll talk to you later too, okay?”
“Okay, Jungkook-ah. Do well tonight, fighting!”
“Fighting, Jungkook-ssi!” Namjoon screams, as loud as his lungs will allow, Jungkook blushes.
“Fighting, hyung. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi smiles before hanging up.
Yoongi puts his phone back in his pocket and places both hands on Namjoon’s left forearm, unmoving, feeling the younger’s warmth. The two are quiet for a while, then Yoongi looks at Namjoon again, who instantly looks away.
“How am I gonna make music now, hyung?” Namjoon whispers, voice distant, looking anywhere but at Yoongi.
Yoongi brings his hand up to Namjoon’s ear, thumb rubbing over his left hearing aid.
“You’re Kim Namjoon, the annoying ass kid that managed to piss me off enough to throw a whole shoe at you when I was barely eighteen. Just by virtue of being so fucking talented. If you were able to do that, I don’t see how a little hearing loss can stop you,” Yoongi says, tone light but eyes serious, forcing Namjoon to look at him.
When Namjoon eventually does, his eyes are watery, but his smile tells Yoongi he believes him.
●●●
“Check out this tenderloin Hyun-hyung sent us, it’s the size of my hand.”
“How are you gonna cut that?” Namjoon sits across Yoongi on the kitchen island. He’s changed into the grey hoodie Seokjin got him way back when and Yoongi’s old, old basketball shorts. He has his glasses on, socks on his stumps, hot pack in his hands.
“Honestly, I don’t know. But Jin-hyung sent me this video I watched on the way to pick you up, and it looked easy enough,” Yoongi opens a drawer, pulling out the carving knife he bought on his first trip to Japan with the man in front of him.
It was a trip to celebrate their first #1 releases. Namjoon on a song with Jungkook, Yoongi on a song with Hoseok. The other two kindly declined Namjoon’s offer to join him on a trip to Tsukiji Market, Hoseok wanting to spend the day with his sister, Jungkook being impossible to wake up before 1 pm. Yoongi remembers saying yes just because he felt bad, thinking he could use a bit of fresh air anyway. Not because he wanted some alone time with his crush.
Yoongi remembers the way Namjoon’s eyes lit up when he found the little corner shop, away from the hustle and bustle of the tourist attractions. He remembers Namjoon dragging him inside, saying he wanted to buy some wooden paperweights for his studio. A studio much smaller than the one he has now. He remembers mindlessly walking around the shop, seeing a bunch of handmade trinkets here and there. He remembers getting bored and deciding to make small talk with the shop owner.
He remembers the owner, an old lady who has probably been doing this longer than his and Namjoon’s lifetimes combined, raving on and on about the knife he now has in his hands. He remembers buying it just because he felt endeared by how passionate she was, not really paying any mind to it.
He remembers Namjoon walking up to him, holding about six different wooden somethings, smile so, so, so wide.
“Look what I found, hyung!”
Namjoon’s eyes were sparkling.
He remembers paying for the knife and forcing Namjoon to let him pay for his stuff, too.
He remembers asking Namjoon to be his boyfriend that day. He remembers Namjoon saying yes. That was six years ago.
He hears Namjoon’s phone ring.
“Oh, it’s my mum. Hi eomma!” Namjoon turns his camera on, waving at his phone screen.
“Joon-ah, can you hear me? Have you eaten yet?”
“I can hear you. Not yet, eomma, hyung is making us sandwiches, look!” Namjoon flips his phone around.
“Hi eomoni, how are you?”
“I’m well, Yoongi-yah. What are you making?”
“We have these beef tenderloins and black truffles that we got from Hyun-hyung and my brother, and I wanted to try and make sandwiches with them. What do you think, eomoni?”
“Oh my, that sounds so good. Joon-ah, your husband spoils you too much, make sure you take him out on a nice date soon!” Yoongi and Namjoon both go shy.
“I will, eomma,” Namjoon blushes, one hand covering his face.
“Eomoni, this is my first time cutting tenderloin this big, am I doing it right?”
“That looks really good, Yoongi-yah. How do you plan to cook it?”
“I was thinking of frying it in butter and then shaving the truffles on top. I bought a shokupan loaf this morning, and I thought the sweet and savoury could be nice together.”
“What did I do to deserve a son-in-law like you, Yoongi-yah? You should come and cook with us sometimes! You and Joon-ah’s sister are the reason our stupid bear is helpless in the kitchen. Always keeping him so well fed.”
“Eomma!” Namjoon whines, head against the kitchen island.
“It’s nothing, eomoni,” Yoongi can feel his ears heat up.
“I shouldn’t interrupt your time together. Enjoy your night, you two. Joon-ah, don’t forget your medicine, okay?” her voice softens at the end.
“I won’t, eomma. Thanks for checking in on us.”
“Good night, my sons, I love you.”
“Good night, eomma. We love you, too!”
“Bye eomoni!”
Namjoon hangs up, putting his phone on the kitchen island.
“Hyung, she loves you more than me now,” Namjoon pouts, cheeks still pink.
“Don’t be silly, Joon-ah. Now, do you want your beef medium or medium rare?” Yoongi changes the subject, but his cheeks are pink, too.
○○○
“Remember Namjoon-ssi, it’s normal to feel uncomfortable, and it’s normal to get frustrated. Some patients take months and even up to a year to get used to their prostheses, so just make sure you attend your physio appointments so we can keep you on track.
Here are some printed instructions to help you with putting the prostheses on and off, as well as maintaining them and keeping them clean. Please feel free to call us if anything happens. We’ll see you at your next physio appointment.”
And just like that, Namjoon’s orthopaedic surgeon and physiotherapist walk out. Leaving them with a load of information, a pair of prosthetic legs, and a long, long road ahead.
Yoongi is in the middle of unfolding Namjoon’s wheelchair, proud to have gotten it right in one go this time, planning the easiest route home when Namjoon breaks the silence.
“Hyung.”
“Yes, Joon-ah?”
“I guess you’re finally taller than me now.”
Yoongi punches Namjoon on the arm.
●●●
“Wah, hyung, this is amazing,” Namjoon mumbles, mouth full, clapping his hands at the sandwiches Yoongi made. Yoongi chooses to ignore the compliment.
“Do you want marshmallows in your hot chocolate, Joon-ah?” Yoongi pours steamed milk into Namjoon’s baby blue mug, mentally cursing Seokjin and Hoseok for coercing him into getting their unnecessarily expensive espresso machine. He kinda really likes it.
“We have marshmallows?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide, mouth still full.
“Yeah, they’re supposedly marshmallows of me. Hobi ordered a bunch of shit with my face on it when I finished producing Hope World for him.”
Yoongi slides the mug in front of Namjoon, a giant marshmallow of a sleeping cat with pink cheeks floating on top. Namjoon almost chokes.
“Oh my god, do we have more of these?” Namjoon practically screams, Yoongi is mortified.
“Yeah, a whole bag of it. We also have a whole box of biscuits and chocolate bars, also with my face on it,” Yoongi deadpans.
Namjoon’s face changes. His eyes go wide. Wide, wide, wide. The kind of wide that makes him look like an eight week old golden retriever that just wants to be called a good boy and get belly rubs. That makes him look so young, young, young. That makes Yoongi feel like he’s about to pass out. That Yoongi can never, ever say no to.
“Can we make Yoongi-hyung s’mores, Yoongi-hyung?”
Yoongi sighs.
○○○
“Hyung, why are you crying?” Namjoon teases, dimples the deepest Yoongi has seen them in far too long. He’s drenched in sweat, slightly out of breath, standing three feet away from Yoongi after having just walked across the room. On his own. With his prostheses.
Yoongi cries even harder.
He must have been a sight to see. Head down, hand over his mouth, cradling himself, sniffling and quivering and sobbing, sobbing, sobbing. He doesn’t register his surroundings until he feels a pair of hands on his shoulders.
He recognises those hands, hands he would like to hold for the rest of his days. Hands that not too long ago were cold, cold, cold, but are now warm, warm, warm. He brings his hand down from his face, daring to look up to see Namjoon so, so close to him.
Yoongi looks Namjoon in the eye and tries to stop himself from losing it.
“Deep breaths, hyung. Just like you taught me,” Namjoon says, voice soft, dimples on his face again.
Yoongi nods, taking deep, shaky breaths. He blushes when Namjoon brings a tissue to his face, wiping his cheeks dry.
Yoongi leans against Namjoon’s chest, and the two stay like that for a while. Yoongi registers Namjoon’s physiotherapist standing less than a foot away from the younger, standing by in case his legs give out. He registers a nurse holding his phone up in the corner of the room, remembering that he asked her to record all this before he had a breakdown. He feels Namjoon bring his arms around his waist, pulling him close, close, close.
“I did it, hyung,” Namjoon whispers, cheek resting on Yoongi’s head. Yoongi takes a shaky breath, willing himself not to cry again.
“You did it, Joon-ah.”
●●●
“Jungkook says you look great as a toasty marshmallow, hyung. Says he always thought you could use a tan,” Namjoon giggles, melted chocolate on his face and fingers, taking selfies with his ‘Yoongi-hyung s’more’.
“Tell Jungkook he can find someone else to give him piano lessons because according to him, his teacher is basically burnt sugar.”
“Burnt Suga! Oh my god, that’s so smart, hyung!” Namjoon gasps, frantically typing on his phone.
Yoongi notices Namjoon even has melted marshmallow in his hair. He wets a paper towel and walks over to the younger.
“Joon-ah, you’re so messy, my god,” Yoongi chastises, voice too fond to have any effect. He wipes the younger’s face, then cleans his hair, then wipes his fingers.
Namjoon smiles, showing Yoongi the selfies he took and bringing what’s left of the s’more to the elder’s lips. Yoongi snorts, opening his mouth.
“Our teeth are gonna fall out with how much sugar is in this,” Yoongi chews, quickly rinsing his hands and filling a cup with water. He opens their medicine cabinet and takes out Namjoon’s seizure medication, shaking the pills into his hand.
Anticonvulsants: levetiracetam and lamotrigine
Levetiracetam, 1500 mg
Lamotrigine, 300 mg
Take in combination, twice a day
Avoid any triggers, i.e., alcohol, caffeine, dehydration, exhaustion, stress
“Don’t forget your meds, Joon-ah,” Yoongi softly says, handing Namjoon the pills and water.
“Thanks, hyung,” Namjoon accepts the pills, quickly downing them.
Yoongi brings his hand up to brush his fingers through Namjoon’s hair, running his thumb over the scar he can feel on the side of the younger’s skull.
“Any seizures today?” Yoongi asks, lightly massaging his head.
“A couple myoclonic ones at noon, but nothing too bad,” Namjoon replies, leaning into Yoongi’s touch.
“Did you get hurt anywhere?” Yoongi brings Namjoon’s head to his chest, bringing his right hand to rub at the nape of his neck, easing the tightness he knows the younger gets there.
Namjoon shakes his head against him, and Yoongi can hear him trying to hold back a groan as the elder loosens the tension in his neck. Yoongi can’t help but smile.
○○○
It took a long, long time for Yoongi to get comfortable with the idea of leaving Namjoon on his own. He remembers being so, so scared to leave the younger alone in a room for even an hour, fearing he might get a tonic-clonic seizure and have no one to help him. He remembers feeling so, so bad when he realised how trapped Namjoon felt, how dehumanising it must feel to have his own husband not trust him to even go to the pharmacy on his own.
Yoongi remembers scheduling an appointment with Namjoon’s neurologist, asking her to explain anything and everything she knew about the younger’s epilepsy. He remembers her telling him that Namjoon’s seizures are now stable, that as long as he takes his medication and attends his appointments, an unexpected tonic-clonic seizure is unlikely.
He remembers going to his therapist afterwards and crying, admitting that he was mad at the neurologist for not being able to promise that Namjoon will be okay. That he will be safe.
He remembers his therapist handing him a box of tissues, then putting her notes down and looking him in the eye.
“Not everyone is fortunate enough to have doctors that care about them, Yoongi-ssi. I obviously don’t know for certain, but from the looks of it, Namjoon-ssi has been fortunate to have ones that do.
It doesn’t take a doctor to know that the accident Namjoon-ssi experienced has and will leave lasting effects, both emotional and physical. I understand that it’s difficult to hear the smartest people in the world look at someone you love and tell you that there are aspects of his condition that they can’t be sure about. That they can’t guarantee whether Namjoon-ssi will or will not collapse on the floor and start thrashing at any given moment.
But these doctors, these people, just like you, and just like Namjoon-ssi, are trying their best. They’ve been trying their best ever since Namjoon-ssi was rushed into their lives on an ambulance stretcher all those months ago.
Try and give them a chance, yeah? If they trust Namjoon-ssi to be on his own, they might not be wrong. They’ve taken care of him so far, haven’t they?”
Yoongi remembers the way Namjoon’s eyes lit up when he, feigning nonchalance, casually told him, “Grab some canned peaches and a watermelon from the store for me, Joon-ah. Hyung wants to make hwachae.”
Yoongi remembers Namjoon coming back from the store twenty seven minutes later, shopping bag filled with three cans of canned peaches and the biggest watermelon he has ever seen. Namjoon’s smile was blinding.
“How the hell did you carry that back home, Joon-ah?”
Yoongi remembers Namjoon ignoring the question, instead coming up to him and giving him the biggest, biggest hug.
Yoongi remembers wondering why he ever thought trusting Namjoon could be a mistake.
●●●
“Ready for bed, Joon-ah? Come on, you’re still shivering,” Yoongi rubs his hands up and down Namjoon’s arms.
“I have an EEG tomorrow, hyung. I have to stay up, remember?”
“I clearly remember your neurologist saying she wants you on three to four hours of sleep, not none at all. Come on, we have to be at the hospital by eight and it’s half past one. I shouldn’t have given you so much sugar this late, that hotteok in the studio was enough,” Yoongi stands in front of Namjoon then turns his body around.
“What are you doing, hyung?”
“Piggyback. We need to brush our teeth and get you warm,” Yoongi announces. Namjoon cackles.
“Really?” Namjoon laughs, voice incredulous.
“Do I look like I’m kidding? Hop on, Joon-ah,” Yoongi moves his hands, inviting the younger onto his back. Namjoon laughs again but complies, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s shoulders, his stumps wrapping around his waist.
“Honestly, hyung, this is not an experience I thought I’d ever have,” Namjoon says over his shoulder as he walks towards the bathroom.
“What? Don’t think your hyung is strong enough to carry you just because he’s shorter than you?” Yoongi retorts, carefully turning around to let Namjoon sit on the countertop next to the sink.
“You’re taller than me now, hyung! I told you!” Namjoon giggles, accepting his toothbrush from Yoongi, toothpaste already on.
“That doesn’t count, Joon-ah,” Yoongi whines, briefly bringing his right hand up to rub his thumb over Namjoon’s left cheek, poking his dimple there.
They finish brushing their teeth and Namjoon opens their skincare cabinet, grabbing a tub of moisturiser. It’s a brand Yoongi doesn’t recognise or remember buying, probably some fancy overpriced anti-aging miracle elixir either Hoseok or Jimin got them. Yoongi watches Namjoon open the tub, sticking his finger in and scooping a massive dollop, smearing it onto Yoongi’s nose.
Yoongi stares at Namjoon, failing to hold back a smile when he sees the cheeky grin on the younger’s face.
“Thanks,” Yoongi deadpans, rubbing the lotion into his skin and wiping the excess on Namjoon’s cheek, causing him to laugh, giggles making Yoongi’s chest hurt.
“You need to moisturise too, Joon-ah. The weather’s been so dry lately,” he says as he rubs the lotion into Namjoon’s skin. He takes a moment to admire Namjoon’s complexion, how his golden skin glows, how his cheeks are the perfect amount of rosy.
Yoongi opens a drawer and digs through Namjoon’s extensive lip balm collection. He grabs one, cherry flavoured today, and applies it onto the younger’s plump, plump lips, giving them a shiny, pink tint. He’s in the middle of putting the lip balm back when Namjoon pulls him in, kissing him on the lips.
“You too, hyung,” the younger smiles, Yoongi feels his cheeks go pinker than Namjoon’s lips.
“Do I get another piggyback to bed, hyung?” Namjoon asks as they finish up.
“You bet.”
○○○
“Hello?”
“Yoongi-yah, can you and Joonie clear your schedules for next week?”
“Uh, we should be able to. I’ve submitted everything I need to for the next couple days. I remember Joonie saying something about a meeting with Tablo-hyung, but I’m sure hyung will be happy to reschedule it if we have to. The man adores him. Why do you ask?”
“Since mine and Taehyung-ie’s birthdays are coming up, I thought it could be fun if we all drove down to my uncle’s strawberry farm and spent some time there. He has a cabin next to the farm that he normally rents out to travellers and stuff, and we can all just crash there for a couple days. Eat loads of food and let loose for a while, play some Mario Kart. What do you say?”
“Um, how far away is his farm, hyung?”
“It’s about a two hour drive. Don’t worry, Yoongi-yah. There’s a hospital about ten minutes away from the cabin, and everything is wheelchair accessible in case our Joonie needs it,” Seokjin explains. Yoongi doesn’t miss how his voice softens.
Yoongi doesn’t take for granted how lucky both him and Namjoon are to have the friends they do. Friends who are so, so patient. Who give Namjoon the extra attention and care he needs, without ever coming off as condescending or pitying. Who understand that there are certain activities that Namjoon will no longer be able to do. Who call out Yoongi for his bullshit when he gets too in his head and overprotective of Namjoon. Who recognise when their avoidance of certain activities is for Namjoon’s genuine wellbeing, or just from irrational fear. Who encourage them to try when they know it’s the latter.
“Okay, hyung. I’ll tell Joonie once he wakes up from his nap. Physio beat the crap out of him today,” Yoongi can hear Seokjin chuckle, he can easily picture the elder’s fond smile.
“He’s been working really hard, Yoongi-yah. Have his seizures been okay?” Seokjin’s voice is so gentle.
“He had a pretty bad one two days ago, but he felt it coming hours in advance so we were ready for it. Still knocked him out afterwards, but he’s doing okay.”
“I’m glad to hear that. How are you doing, Yoongi-yah?”
“I’m alright, hyung.”
Seokjin is silent for a while, long enough that Yoongi thought the call cut out. He’s about to ask if Seokjin is still on the line when the elder speaks again.
“You’ve adjusted really well to all this, Yoongi-yah. You’ve done an amazing job. We’re all very proud of you.”
“I’m not amazing for making sure my husband is alive, hyung,” Yoongi scoffs, almost angry to hear himself get complimented for something so bare minimum.
“Please don’t twist my words like that, Yoongi-yah, you know that’s not what I meant,” Seokjin retorts immediately, but his tone is so, so kind.
“What you went through wasn’t easy. Sure, it was awful, absolutely terrible for Namjoon, but it was also hell for you.
You’re still your own person, Yoongi-yah. You’re your own person who went through your own trauma and are allowed to grieve, to need help, to ask for help. Please don’t let your misplaced guilt for what happened to Namjoon turn into a reservoir of never-ending fuel for your self-loathing.
Nothing can ever prepare you for an experience like this, Yoongi-yah, and you’ve handled everything with so much courage. Sure, you’ve made mistakes, said and done some insensitive things, and you probably will in the future, too. But who is doing this better than you? There are no mentors for something like this, no one going through the exact same shit as you.
Don’t get me wrong, specialists and therapy and support groups can help, do help, but they’re not the ones going through this, are they? They’re not the ones who married Namjoon. Sweet, brilliant, annoying, indescribable Kim Namjoon. That was you, Yoongi-yah, and you’ve taken amazing care of him. Please don’t bullshit me, I know he’s a pain in the ass at times.”
Yoongi lets out a laugh, thankful to Seokjin for not pointing out how wet it sounds.
“You’re not just ‘making sure Namjoon’s alive’, Yoongi-yah. Can’t you see how happy he is? He’s glowing. Of course, a lot of that is from Namjoon’s own hard work and perseverance, but you can’t possibly say that a significant part of that is not because of you.
I know you don’t believe me. I know you still have it wired in your head that what happened to Namjoon was somehow your fault. That’s okay, healing is not an overnight thing. I know you’ll believe me one day. I know you will.
So please, listen to hyung, listen to your friends, your family, when we say, in the words of Kris Jenner, that you’re doing amazing, sweetie.”
Yoongi doesn’t respond to that, he knows Seokjin doesn’t expect him to.
“Oh, I’ve been working a lot on my sign language recently, Yoongi-yah. Went to this class with Jungkook and Jimin the other day, and we learned so much. It was kinda overwhelming, but it felt good at the end.”
“That’s so great, hyung. Joonie will be so happy to see that,” Yoongi softly chuckles, still sniffling.
“Also, how are you liking your new fridge? The model I picked was good, wasn’t it? Compliments only, Yoongi-yah, I don’t accept any constructive criticism on this matter.”
“It’s not too bad, hyung,” Yoongi tries to joke, wiping at his eyes. Seokjin is silent for another beat, Yoongi suspects that he’s smiling.
“Get some rest, Yoongi-yah. Let me know if you two are coming okay? Call me if you need anything, or if you just wanna talk. I mean it.”
“Okay, hyung. I will. Thank you,” Yoongi hears Seokjin chuckle.
“Good night, Yoongi-yah.”
“Night, hyung.”
●●●
“Is this warm enough, Joon-ah?” Yoongi wraps their heated blanket around the younger.
“Yes, hyung,” Namjoon groans, like a teenager being asked to clean their room.
“I was Yoongi-hyung s’more, you’re now Joonie burrito,” Yoongi smiles, giving Namjoon a quick kiss on the head.
Yoongi goes to turn the lights off, their bed-side lamp the only thing illuminating the room. He sets a timer on his phone for four hours, putting it next to him on the nightstand.
“Wanna take your hearing aids off now?”
Namjoon nods, letting Yoongi gently take off his hearing aids and plugging them into the charger.
“Sleep?” Yoongi signs, to which Namjoon nods again, a small smile on his face.
Yoongi climbs into bed next to him, snuggling up and putting his head on the younger’s chest. He lies there, listening to the thump, thump, thump of Namjoon’s heartbeat.
Yoongi wiggles his hand underneath Namjoon’s blanket, resting it on his chest over where he knows his pacemaker is. He traces his fingers over the bump, feeling the device that’s keeping his husband’s heart rate steady, steady, steady. That’s keeping his husband alive.
Yoongi remembers the anger he felt when Namjoon’s doctors told him that they wouldn’t be able to take his pacemaker out. At least not yet. That instead of taking the device out after a few weeks like they hopefully planned, they were going to be replacing it with a permanent one. Because they had to. Because Namjoon’s heart still wasn’t beating right.
Yoongi remembers the shame he felt when he saw Namjoon catch a glimpse of his anger. How the younger interpreted it as Yoongi being mad at him, at his body for failing.
Yoongi remembers realising how selfish he was being. How he was getting upset about something he understood nothing about, just for the sake of feeling something. He remembers kissing every line of Namjoon’s face, Namjoon’s chest, apologising for ever making him feel like this was his fault.
Yoongi feels a tap on his shoulder. He looks up.
“What are you thinking about, hyung?” Namjoon signs, a cheeky grin on his face.
Yoongi points at the younger. You.
“Do you have a crush on me or something?”
The room is dark, but Namjoon’s smile is bright, bright, bright.
“You know what, I think I do.”
○○○
“Namjoon-ah! Namjoon-ah!” Yoongi turns around when he hears Hoseok screech. He is met with the sight of the rapper bolting towards Namjoon, crashing into his chest and hiding behind his back.
“What? What? What’s going on?” Namjoon signs, turning around in his seat, eyes wide, expression so confused. Cute.
“Jungkook-ie is chasing me with a fucking bug, no, fuck no-” Hoseok is off, running again.
Yoongi turns his head to see Jungkook, all teeth, praying mantis in his hands, walking towards where Hoseok was. He notices the maknae has a flower in his hair.
“You’re gonna kill him, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi snorts, placing another strawberry in his basket. Jungkook smiles even wider, walking over to Namjoon.
Namjoon admitted to not having enough energy to walk around and pick strawberries with them as soon as they arrived, which led to Jungkook and Taehyung arguing over who gets to piggyback their Namjoonie-hyung around the farm. Seokjin and Yoongi made the consensus that it would be neither of them, and that Namjoon would safely and non-chaotically sit on the mid-century rocking chair Seokjin jokingly got for his uncle when he turned fifty.
“Rapmon-hyung, do you like my flower?” Jungkook signs, showing Namjoon his hair whilst placing the praying mantis in Namjoon’s hands.
“You should return this guy where you found it, Jungkook-ah. What if it has a family?” Namjoon smiles, reaching up with one hand to fix the flower when it starts slipping.
“Hyung, I came here for compliments and all you do is make me feel bad for potential insect abduction,” Jungkook pouts, Namjoon laughs, slapping the youngest on the shoulder.
“Namjoonie-hyung!” Taehyung comes skipping over, a cup of strawberry juice with a straw in hand.
“Here, hyung. I made this for you.”
“More like I made it for you and he’s serving it to you,” Seokjin corrects from behind, walking up to Namjoon as well.
“Didn’t make any for me, hyung?” Jungkook teases, going to tickle Seokjin on the neck.
“Aish, get off, stop-”
“I want strawberry juice too, hyung.”
“Go make some yourself. There’s literally a whole field of strawberries. Like right here.”
“I want hyung to make it for me.”
“Stop, that tickles, Jungkook-ah, no-”
“Guys! I got the blanket, help me set up, please!” Jimin comes walking over, rolled up picnic blanket under his left armpit, a portable stove and pot in his hands.
“Hobi-hyung is grabbing the ramyeon, he could probably use a hand,” Jimin says as he bends to put everything down, Taehyung immediately helping him.
“I’ll get him. You guys want anything from the kitchen?” Seokjin pipes up.
“Let’s make some pajeon, hyung!” Taehyung shouts, straightening the blanket before standing back up and going over to Namjoon.
“Wanna sit on the blanket, hyung?” Taehyung signs, Yoongi sees Namjoon give a small nod.
“Sit here, hyung!” Jungkook sits on the blanket, patting the space between his legs as Taehyung pulls Namjoon up, Jimin now helping as well.
Yoongi watches Namjoon slowly ease himself down to sit against Jungkook, Taehyung and Jimin holding him steady. He walks over with his basket of strawberries and places it next to the stove, a small smile on his face.
“Wanna take them off, Joon-ah?” Yoongi signs as he kneels in front of Namjoon, one hand on his prostheses, the other combing through his hair.
“It’s okay, hyung,” Namjoon replies, leaning into Jungkook as the youngest rubs his neck, one arm wrapped around his waist.
Yoongi stands and sees Hoseok and Seokjin coming back with pretty much the entire pantry in their arms.
“You really brought the whole kitchen, huh?” Yoongi chuckles, grabbing some stuff off Hoseok.
They all go to sit on the blanket, pot of water on the stove slowly coming to a boil. Yoongi drops a couple ramyeon packets in, stabbing it with his chopsticks.
Yoongi doesn’t miss how everyone is trying to be as close to Namjoon as possible, trying to make sure he’s as comfortable as possible. He doesn’t miss how Jungkook is sniffing Namjoon’s hair, hand rubbing where his residual limbs meet his prostheses. He doesn’t miss how Jimin is sitting next to them, hand on Namjoon’s thigh, rubbing back and forth. He doesn’t miss how Taehyung keeps trying to lie down on Namjoon’s lap, Jungkook and Jimin shooing him away, laughing. He doesn’t miss how Seokjin insists he takes over cooking, asking Yoongi to sit down whilst he serves the ramyeon. He doesn’t miss how Seokjin serves Namjoon first. He doesn’t miss how Hoseok keeps reaching over to feed Namjoon the many, many side dishes he and Seokjin managed to carry from the kitchen.
They eat, and eat, and eat. Seokjin and Taehyung making pajeon after they finish the ramyeon, everyone cheering for Taehyung when he finally manages to flip one perfectly. Jimin and Jungkook decide to make fondue afterwards, Jimin rushing back to the kitchen to grab some chocolate and cream that Hoseok and Seokjin somehow didn’t carry with them.
Yoongi watches Jungkook dip a strawberry into the chocolate and feed it to Namjoon. He watches Jimin dip his finger into the chocolate and smear it onto Namjoon’s cheek, laughing loud, loud, loud. He watches Hoseok panic when he sees some of the chocolate drip onto Namjoon’s white hoodie, rushing up to him to try and clean it up. He watches Namjoon tell Hoseok that it doesn’t matter, that it’s just a hoodie that he can wash. He watches Namjoon smile, smile, smile.
Yoongi is having light discussion with Hoseok about future track ideas, when he notices everyone go quiet. He turns around and feels the fondest smile tug at his cheeks.
Namjoon had fallen asleep in Jungkook’s arms, head cosy on the youngest’s chest.
“Cute,” Yoongi hears Jimin coo, the dancer reaching over to swipe some hair away from Namjoon’s face.
“He had a tonic-clonic last night when we were packing. I’m surprised he was able to stay awake as long as he did, to be honest,” Yoongi explains, voice fond, fond, fond.
“Was it bad, hyung?” Jungkook whispers, Yoongi sees him rubbing circles on Namjoon’s stomach.
“I mean, his tonic-clonics tend to be pretty bad in general. It helps that he can always tell when he’s about to have one, though. At least we can be prepared. I think his excitement for today helped him through how sick he felt afterwards,” Yoongi reaches over and brushes his hand on Namjoon’s cheek.
“Is that why he’s not wearing his hearing aids today?” Hoseok asks, Yoongi can see him trying to school away the worry on his face.
“Yeah, they tend to make his nausea and headaches worse,” Yoongi nods, sitting back down next to the rapper, wordlessly placing a hand on his back.
“He can stand and walk really well now, hyung,” Taehyung says, fingers lightly touching Namjoon’s prostheses, before leaning over to kiss him on the forehead.
“He doesn’t mess around in physio, this one. He works so, so hard. His physiotherapist always has to beg him to take a break,” Yoongi chuckles, feeling his voice catch in his throat.
“You’ve taken amazing care of him, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin says, looking Yoongi in the eye.
Yoongi is taken by surprise. He can’t help but look away, accidentally locking eyes with Seokjin. He recognises the elder’s eyes, what he’s trying to tell him. He decides to listen.
“Thanks, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi mutters, feeling his cheeks heat up. He sees Seokjin smile in his periphery.
They fall into easy conversation. Hoseok talking about his sister’s upcoming wedding, how everyone better show up, lest his sister kills them herself. Taehyung tells a story about how he accidentally cut his own hair when filming, how he thought he was just cutting the wig, but wasn’t. Yoongi notices Jungkook trying his best not to laugh too hard, afraid to wake Namjoon up. They briefly make eye contact, Jungkook showing the panic in his eyes at trying his best to keep it together, Yoongi gives him a cheeky smile.
They break off into their own discussions afterwards, Yoongi vaguely registering Seokjin ranting to Jimin about a client who can’t decide on a bathroom tile pattern before he zones out. He is watching a bee pollinate a strawberry flower when Jungkook breaks him out of his daydream.
“Hyung, Namjoonie-hyung is shivering. Should we go inside?” Jungkook softly asks, looking at Yoongi whilst he rubs his hands over Namjoon’s.
“Is he? It’s not even that cold today,” Jimin says, voice worried, taking off his scarf to drape over Namjoon’s body.
“It’s his heart medication, makes him all cold and shaky even in the heat,” Yoongi explains, going up to Namjoon and gently shaking him on the shoulder.
Namjoon stirs awake, blinking at the sudden brightness. Yoongi registers half the guys coo.
“You’re shivering, Joon-ah. Go inside?” Yoongi signs, bringing a cup of water to the younger’s lips.
Namjoon immediately pouts, shaking his head as he slowly accepts the water. Yoongi hears the others laugh.
“Is our maknae that comfy?” Yoongi teases, both Jungkook and Namjoon go pink.
“Hyung,” Jungkook whines, bringing his arms tighter around Namjoon when he tries to hide in his chest. The youngest shoves Yoongi away when the elder starts laughing, a pout on his lips as well.
“Okay, okay, we can stay out here. But you need to warm up, Joon-ah, we don’t want you catching a cold,” Yoongi’s face hurts from smiling.
Namjoon somehow manages to pout further, cuddling the scarf Jimin draped over him. Yoongi hears Jimin squeal before the dancer reaches over to pinch Namjoon on the cheek.
Yoongi fondly shakes his head, pulling a spare hot pack from his pocket and shaking it to life. He places the hot pack in Namjoon’s hands, draping Jimin’s scarf back over him.
“There, go back to sleep, Sleeping Beauty,” Yoongi signs, gently taking Namjoon’s glasses off.
Namjoon quickly eases back into Jungkook’s chest, shoulders loosening as he drifts off again. He’s still pouting. Yoongi’s chest hurts.
“Our Namjoonie-hyung is so cute,” Jimin pinches his cheeks again, squishing his pout away.
“It’s good to see him putting weight back on, he lost so much weight after the accident,” Seokjin comments, moving the stove off the blanket so Namjoon can lie down more.
“Yeah, his medication and seizures made it so hard for him to keep food down at first. I remember walking in on him eating rice from some takeout I got. I’d never been so happy to see someone steal my food in my life,” Yoongi chuckles, checking to see if the younger’s shivering has subsided.
“I was so relieved when hyung decided he wasn’t gonna give up on music,” Yoongi is surprised by the crack in Jungkook’s voice. He was so focused on Namjoon he didn’t notice when their maknae had started crying.
Yoongi moves back to the pair, this time bringing his hands to rub the tears off Jungkook’s face. Yoongi gives the youngest a small smile before speaking.
“A lot of that is because of you, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi runs his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, bringing his thumb down to wipe away any new tears that slip from his eyes.
“Hyung actually never got to thank you. You really helped Joonie deal with his hearing loss. Remember when he called you in the hospital? That was right after he saw his hearing aids, Jungkook-ah, he was so excited to show them to you. He knew you wouldn’t think of him as any less, said he ‘Wanted to be as cool as our little Jungkook-ie’,” Yoongi grabs a napkin and dabs at Jungkook’s wet cheeks.
“Rapmon-hyung is already the coolest person ever,” Jungkook sniffles, kissing the top of Namjoon’s head, Namjoon blissfully asleep.
“That’s what I told him,” Yoongi smiles, realising his cheeks are wet, too.
“I actually never got to thank any of you guys,” Yoongi turns to the rest of the blanket, looking everyone in the eye.
“I know the last couple months have been an absolute roller coaster. I know I haven’t been the most pleasant person to be around, either. I wanna say I’m sorry if I ever said anything crass, or insensitive, or hurtful to any of you that you didn’t call me out for, because you guys are always too kind to me. I acted out of fear and self-hatred and that’s not an excuse to be an asshole.
I also want to thank you guys for not giving up on me. For believing in me even if I was a shit friend for a while. There was no chance I would’ve been able to get through this without you.
Thank you, Jin-hyung, for pulling me out of my thoughts when I fall in too deep. Thank you, Hob-ah, for talking to me for hours and hours when being in a hospital room for too long got too quiet. Thank you, Jimin-ah, for reminding me that I’m allowed to be happy on days when I forget. Thank you, Taehyung-ah, for sending me countless videos of Yeontan being the happiest little devil on Earth, for showing me that love and joy can be found anywhere if you look in the right places. Thank you, Jungkook-ah, for being so painfully stubborn and sure about the fact that I could get through this, that we could do this.
And this is to say nothing of all that you’ve done for Joonie. How you’ve embraced who he is after the accident with so much love and respect. How you care for him because you can, not because you have to. How you’ve made it so that everything and nothing has changed in the most beautiful, beautiful way.
I will never be able to repay you guys, but I’m still going to try. I love you all so, so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
No one says everything for a while, just the sound of sniffling surrounding them.
“Fuck you, Yoongi-hyung. I haven’t taken any selfies with the strawberries yet. And now I look like this,” Taehyung whines, wiping at his eyes.
“My face was already gonna be puffy from all the ramyeon I just had. Now I’m sobbing on top of it,” Hoseok deadpans, sniffling whilst he massages his under eyes.
Everyone stops when they see Namjoon stir in Jungkook’s lap, waking up from his nap. He’s quiet for a moment, squinting his eyes open, before he suddenly speaks.
“Was Yoongi-hyung being a sap again?”
His voice is a little off pitch, still raspy from sleep.
Yoongi thinks it’s one of the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard.
The look on everyone’s faces tells him they might think the same, too.