Start Where We Are

The train sways as it pulls out of the station, jostling Namjoon slightly. It’s nearly 11pm, and Namjoon is bone tired. He loves his job, he does, but working the kinks out of the latest single for a group of energetic idols with a penchant for messing around is enough to wear anyone out.

He lifts his head to look toward the window—intent on zoning out until he reaches his stop—and freezes when his eyes land on a painfully familiar face. A face that’s looking right back at him with a matching shocked expression of recognition.

Jimin.

Namjoon hasn’t seen him in over ten years, hasn’t spoken to him in almost as long, but his face is unmistakable, even after so many years. He’s definitely grown up, that baby fat almost gone, though there’s still a gentle softness to his face. Namjoon feels a pang of nostalgic longing in his chest. The last time they’d interacted properly had been shortly after—

The train stops at the next station, and Namjoon is forced to look away as he moves to allow someone out. When he looks back up, Jimin is still looking at him, seemingly unable to look away. Namjoon feels his cheeks heating.

The last time they’d interacted properly had been as teenagers, shortly after they’d lost their virginity to each other. Namjoon had been sixteen, Jimin only a year younger. It hadn’t been good, but it hadn’t been traumatic either, they’d both been fully on board with the idea, even if the execution was kind of terrible. Lacklustre, awkward and uncomfortable, embarrassingly quick.

Judging by the matching flush to Jimin’s cheeks, he’s remembering the same thing. Namjoon feels guilty for the way things went afterward. They’d gone from being inseparable, the best of buddies, to avoidant and awkward with each other. Then Jimin had moved. His dad got a new job in another city, and they’d not kept in contact. Namjoon’s mother had continued to ask how Jimin was for years after, and Namjoon had lied, telling her he was doing good and enjoying his new school.

A lot has happened in ten years.

The train grinds to a halt again, and Namjoon realises it’s his stop. He tears his gaze away from Jimin and exits the train with a sigh, kind of feeling like he’s been punched in the gut by the past. When he looks up he jerks in surprise; Jimin has got off at the same station.

The crowd flows around them, one of those anime-worthy moments where everything slows. Someone knocks into Namjoon, and he stumbles, apologising for standing in the way. When he looks back to where Jimin had been, he’s well ahead of Namjoon in the crowd, and there’s little to no chance to catch up with him even if Namjoon wanted to, which he kind of does.

Namjoon drags himself the rest of the way home, collapsing onto his couch soon after he’s toed off his shoes at the door. He should get up and eat and get ready for bed, but he finds it impossible to force his eyes back open. He ends up falling asleep right there, the image of Jimin’s surprised expression filling his brain.

Weeks pass, and Namjoon almost forgets the incident, until it happens again.

He steps off the train and onto the crowded platform, earlier in the afternoon, this time. The idols he’d been working with recently had breezed through recording their latest single, finishing far earlier than expected, and it’s a relief to have a half day off work because of it. He’s looking forward to getting home, taking a long, hot bath, and vegetating in front of the TV for a few hours before bed.

Namjoon looks around for which exit is closer, and there’s Jimin, with one person between them. This time, Jimin hasn’t noticed him, instead checking his phone as he shuffles along in the crowd. Namjoon’s breath snags in his lungs. Jimin looks even more beautiful today than he had last time; tufts of blonde hair poke out from under his beanie, glasses perched on his nose, lips full and enticingly dusky pink. Namjoon wonders if they’re still as soft as he remembers them being.

The person between them is walking faster than either of them, and by the time they’re exiting the station Jimin is right beside him. Namjoon's heart is going to jump out of his chest as he reaches out, curling his fingers in the sleeve of Jimin’s coat to catch his attention.

“Jimin-ssi?” Namjoon calls softly, and Jimin’s head snaps up with a sharp intake of breath. He stares at Namjoon owlishly for a moment before a hesitant smile tugs at his lips.

“Hey, Namjoon-ssi,” Jimin says, cheeks a little flushed from the autumn chill in the air. Well, he isn’t immediately running away, which Namjoon takes as a positive sign.

“It’s been a while. Do you… want to grab a drink with me? Coffee, I mean. Catch up?” Namjoon asks. He’s scared Jimin will say no, that he’ll say ‘it’s nice to see you again, but we should go our separate ways’. After all, it’s been ten years, and their friendship hadn’t exactly ended on a high note. It hadn’t been a bad split, either, but he wouldn’t blame Jimin if he’d rather they keep going without exploring what could come out of this encounter.

But Namjoon hopes.

Fuck, he wants Jimin to say ‘yes, let's grab a coffee’, because something is tugging incessantly at the back of Namjoon’s brain. A loud, ringing ‘what if’.

What if meeting again is fate? A push from the universe to say ‘maybe things weren’t right last time, but this time…’

What if they’re meant to rekindle something between them, to breathe life back into that sorry little flame from their teenage years?

What if…

Namjoon is an overly romantic fool—he knows he is—but damn, he hopes that maybe he’s part of one of those stories. The ones where childhood friends reunite after years apart, fall in love, and live happily ever after.

Of course there’s more between them than simple childhood friendship, but it’s a good place to start, right? Namjoon can see the indecision flash across Jimin’s face, and thinks Jimin can see the unrestrained hope on his. He's always been good at reading Namjoon.

“Yeah... Yeah, I’d like that,” Jimin says, his soft smile sincere. Namjoon has to repress the whoop of joy that bubbles up inside him. Jimin suggests a coffee place a few streets away, and the walk there is quiet, but comfortable. Namjoon glances at Jimin every now and then, catching his eye a few times and smiling sheepishly.

It surprises Namjoon to find the coffee shop has an assortment of queer flags strung along the front window, a cheery little rainbow over the door. He never even knew there was a queer coffee shop here, but now he knows about it he’ll be a frequent visitor.

They enter and order, sitting across from one another at a table along the wall. Jimin wraps his hands around his mug, soaking in the comforting warmth. Namjoon doesn’t know where to start. Despite his eagerness to talk to Jimin again, he suddenly can’t think of anything to say. He bounces his leg nervously under the table.

“Still as awkward as ever, I see,” Jimin teases softly, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s a weird situation.”

“It really is. I never thought I’d see you again. How’ve you been?” Namjoon asks, watching the way Jimin brings the mug to his lips and takes a slow sip before answering.

“I’ve been—I’ve been okay, I guess. You know. Ups and downs. Normal stuff.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

They’re quiet for a beat, both staring down at their drinks, before Namjoon lets out a frustrated groan and rubs at his eyes.

“I’m sorry this is so… I didn’t imagine it’d be this hard. It’s been so long. I just don’t know how…” Namjoon sighs, struggling to find words to express how he’s feeling.

“Don’t know how to talk to me? I’m sure we’ve both grown and changed so much. We don’t know each other any more. I’m not surprised it’s uncomfortable,” Jimin says, and Namjoon finds comfort in his understanding. It seems like that’s something that hasn't changed, Jimin is still good at saying just the right thing.

“I really do want to catch up, though. I’ve thought about you, you know. Over the years.”

“Yeah, me too. It’s… it was kind of sudden. My parents didn’t really think it was much of an issue to just spring moving on me. It was pretty miserable.”

“My mum kept asking after you. I had to keep telling her you were doing good. I didn’t know what else to say. I was… so embarrassed about how things went that I couldn’t make myself reach out to you,” Namjoon admits with a grimace, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“My mum ah… kind of guessed what happened. I don’t even remember how the topic came up, but I was bawling my eyes out and blurted that I’m gay,” Jimin chuckles, staring down at his drink and watching the steam rise from the mug.

“Damn. What a way to come out.”

“Yeah. And she wasn’t even surprised. I don’t think my dad even knows. He’s pretty oblivious when it comes to me. Too much time at work and not enough getting to know his family, I guess,” Jimin says, looking glum. Namjoon’s heart aches for him. His own family had only learnt of his queerness around a year ago, and while they didn’t really understand, they supported him.

“That’s gotta suck,” Namjoon says softly, reaching out to place a hand over Jimin’s in comfort. Jimin hums in agreement and smiles at the touch, lifting his eyes to meet Namjoon’s.

“Yeah. But my mum more than makes up for it.”

“Your mum has always been an angel. Remember when I was six and tripped while carrying that bucket of tadpoles and was devastated when they spilled everywhere?” Namjoon reminisces, his hand leaving Jimin’s in favour of taking a sip of his drink. “She was so good at explaining that while it was sad they’d die, they’d quickly be eaten up by birds and would help the birds be healthy and strong. My mum always said you got your emotional intelligence from her.”

Jimin smiles at the fond memory. Namjoon has always been a klutz, and it’s always been endearing. As the sun starts to set, it casts a warm, golden glow through the window, their cups slowly emptying. They talk for what feels like hours, trying to get reacquainted after years apart. The conversation is a little stilted at times, but Namjoon thinks it’s only natural after how they parted.

Namjoon jumps as his phone beeps loudly in his pocket, signalling a work email. He apologises as he pulls his phone out to skim read it.

"Shit, I should probably go. I forgot I have something due at work tomorrow, and it still isn’t done," Namjoon groans, not wanting to leave at all. He wants to keep talking to Jimin now that the awkwardness has started to fade, but reality calls and Namjoon knows he can't ignore his responsibilities, not even for the sake of rekindling a romance with his childhood sweetheart.

“Oh, of course. Don't let me keep you. Work is work,” Jimin says, voice tinged with disappointment, but his expression is understanding.

Namjoon curses internally, wishing he could extend this moment just a bit longer.

“Maybe we could… do this again soon?” Namjoon asks, more tentative than he’d like. It feels vulnerable, putting himself out there like this, being so eager in the face of uncertainty. Would Jimin just prefer to forget him? Was their history too embarrassing for him to want to try again? God, Namjoon hopes not.

He doesn't have to wait in anxious suspense for long. Jimin's face glows with a warm smile that has his heart fluttering with tentative hope.

“I'd like that,” He says. A surge of relief floods through Namjoon, letting out a breath he didn't realise he was holding. Jimin’s eyes crinkle fondly at the corners.

“Great! Good. I mean… I look forward to it,” Namjoon rambles, failing to hide his excitement.

They exchange numbers, a momentous thing to Namjoon, given how long they've been out of each other's lives. He feels like he did the first time they’d kissed, his gut twisting itself in excited knots, almost sick with it.

As they step out of the café, the crisp evening air greets them. The world outside seems quieter, more peaceful than before, or maybe that’s just how Namjoon feels now that he knows Jimin wants to see him again.

They stand on the other side of the narrow street to the café for a moment, neither wanting to separate just yet. Namjoon can't help but marvel at how much yet how little Jimin has changed. He seems more comfortable in his skin now, that much is immediately apparent.

Jimin fidgets with his phone in his pocket, teeth tugging at his plush lower lip, drawing Namjoon’s gaze. While Namjoon just stands there, suddenly struck dumb by his desire to kiss Jimin, Jimin seems to be weighing something up. After a moment there's a determined set to his shoulders and he steps forward, leans up, and presses a quick, light kiss to Namjoon's cheek.

“See you soon,” Jimin practically squeaks out, as he turns abruptly and starts walking away, leaving Namjoon standing there, dumbstruck as he watches Jimin’s retreating back. He presses his fingers to the lingering feeling of Jimin's mouth on his skin, a lopsided grin making his dimples reveal themselves.

Jimin stops before he turns the corner, looking back at Namjoon, his own face beet-red in the evening sun. When he sees Namjoon’s smile, one of his own breaks out, and Namjoon swears the sun shines brighter.

“I'll text you!” Jimin yells, then he's gone.

Maybe this really is one of those sappy love stories.

Namjoon resists the urge to chase after him and pull him into a proper kiss. One step at a time, one foot in front of the other, he makes his way home, feeling lighter than he has in years. He barely notices time passing as he traverses the quiet residential backstreets, and arrives home.

Before he knows it, he's finished the work due the next day, and emailed it off with a cheerier than usual salutation. He's standing in his kitchen, staring at the sparse contents of his fridge, when his phone pings where it sits on the counter. He grabs for it excitedly, hoping it's Jimin, but it's just his co-worker and best friend, Min Yoongi, asking what his disgustingly cheery sign off was for.

The next few days pass in a blur of work, late nights, and thoughts of Jimin. Every time his phone buzzes, his stomach twists in nervous anticipation of a message from him, but each time, it’s just another work email or message from one of the idols about a recording. He’s tempted to text Jimin first, but the last thing he wants is to seem too eager.

By the time Friday rolls around, Namjoon’s nerves are fraying. He’s been replaying their conversation in his head, analysing every word, every glance, trying to figure out if he'd totally misread that goodbye kiss somehow. It’s in the middle of a particularly difficult session in the studio when his phone vibrates again. He almost ignores it, but something makes him pull it out of his pocket. His breath catches when he sees Jimin’s name on the screen.

Jimin: Hey! Sorry it took me a while to text. Work has been weirdly busy (￣▽￣;)

Namjoon grins, quickly typing out a reply before he can overthink it.

He hits send and immediately wonders if that was the right thing to say. Was he being too casual? Too formal? His thoughts are interrupted by another buzz.

Jimin: Nooo! You’d never be a bother!

Jimin: Nope, definitely real!
Jimin: Unless we both hallucinated the same thing, which would be... something xD

Jimin: It was really nice seeing you too
Jimin:Felt like a blast from the past in a good way.

Namjoon’s heart beats a little faster at Jimin’s words. He hesitates for just a moment before typing his next message.

There’s a pause, and Namjoon wonders if he’s said too much. But then Jimin replies.

Jimin: Haha, I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that. But seeing your smile…
Jimin:I’m glad I did it.

Namjoon’s grin widens, his cheeks flushing slightly. He can’t remember the last time he felt this giddy.

Jimin: Oh??? Exciting ( •̀ ω •́ )✧
Jimin: I like surprises.
Jimin: Really though, it was good catching up, even if it was a little awkward at first.

Jimin: I think we are.
Jimin: It feels... nice. Like we’re picking up where we left off, but better this time?

Namjoon’s heart swells at that. This time, he doesn’t hesitate.

Jimin: What do you mean unfortunately!?
Jimin: You’ve always been great
Jimin: Your awkwardness is endearing!

Jimin: Glad to know I’ve still got it (✿◠ ɞ ◠)

Jimin: Still a masochist I see~
Jimin: But seriously, I’d really like to see you again
Jimin: I’m free this weekend if you are?

Shit, this is it, just what he’d been hoping for. Namjoon’s fingers fly over the screen as he taps out another message, his excitement barely contained.

Jimin: Deal
Jimin:Text me the time and place and I’ll be there
Jimin:Looking forward to it (´,,• ɞ •,,)♡

Jimin: A date sounds good to me (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Namjoon stares at the screen for a moment, a wide smile making his cheeks ache. His mind is already racing with ideas for their date, determined to make it perfect. He spends the rest of the day in a daze, mind a thousand miles away from the studio.

By the time Saturday rolls around Namjoon is a bundle of nerves. He spends way too long on his outfit, going through half of his wardrobe at least twice. His clothes are spread in a haphazard mess across his bed before he finally settles on something casual but nice, an open pale yellow button-up shirt over a plain white tee, and fitted jeans that Hoseok, the resident choreographer at work, keeps telling him his ass looks fantastic in.

Namjoon takes one last look in the mirror, checking himself with nervous excitement. His heart is racing, and he feels like a teenager again, anxiously preparing for his first real date. He’s been on a good few dates over the past ten years, but none have made him feel quite as nervous as this one. The impulse to review the details again flickers through his mind, but he pushes it aside with a deep, steadying breath as he reminds himself that Jimin seemed eager about the whole thing.

The early afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the city as he makes his way out of his apartment and heads toward the Han. It takes him a good forty minutes to get there—the city is bustling with people enjoying the perfect weekend weather, people out shopping, visiting cafés, galleries, and other attractions in the areas he passes through.

Namjoon arrives at their chosen spot a good ten minutes early. It's busy—as it always is this time of year—everyone wanting to catch the last few days of the cherry blossoms. Spreading a blanket out on the grass, he feels a rush of satisfaction as he sets everything up under one of the trees, blossoms and petals falling in graceful, fluttering spirals now and then. It’s a brilliant spot, a lucky find with the park this full.

He’s packed an actual wicker basket with a selection of what he hopes are still Jimin’s favourite snacks. He’d grabbed some glass bottles of coke—he’s always felt they’re more fancy than plastic or cans—and a couple of kimbap, some mochi, choco pies, that kind of thing. Two bags of honey butter chips round out the selection, just to make sure he definitely gets some himself.

As he finishes setting up, he checks his phone again and sees a message from Jimin saying he’s almost there. Namjoon’s heart skips a beat. He looks around, trying to spot Jimin as he waits, and his heart skips a beat as he sees Jimin walking towards him through the crowd. He looks far too cute to be real, in his cosy baby blue sweater and jeans, a pair of sunglasses perched on his head. Jimin’s face lights up when he spots Namjoon, a wide smile forming his eyes into familiar crescents.

“Hey! Sorry if I’m late. The subway was packed,” Jimin calls as he reaches Namjoon, looking a little harried now he’s closer.

“No worries. It’s only, like, thirteen minutes after three. Practically early for you,” Namjoon teases with a wide smile.

“Oh? I’ll be slower next time then,” Jimin chuckles, flopping down on the blanket beside Namjoon with a huff.

The prospect of ‘next time’ has Namjoon’s gut fluttering giddily. “Don’t want me to know how eager you are to see me, eh?”

Jimin responds by sticking his tongue out. He takes a moment to look around, eyes wide with appreciation. “Damn, this is a great spot! The flowers are amazing.”

“I thought you’d like it. It always feels peaceful somehow even though it’s packed,” Namjoon hums as he flips open the basket, revealing its contents with a dramatic flourish. Jimin’s mouth turns into a little O in delight as he starts pulling out the treats.

“Oh my god, Hyung, how did you remember all my favourites. You’re a gem,” Jimin gushes, grabbing one of the bags of honey butter chips and tearing it open immediately. Namjoon watches, a swell of pride rising within him, but he stops short of puffing out his chest.

“Weeeell, considering how often you used to eat some of these things, I figured they’re a safe bet. Well, more hoped you weren’t sick of them,” Namjoon says, grabbing a snack for himself.

“I’m glad my eating habits made such a lasting impression,” Jimin laughs, shaking his head.

From there, conversation flows easily. They talk for hours, barely noticing time passing. They bounce from topic to topic: their jobs, how their families are, a hobby or two they’ve picked up over the years. Before they know it, the sun is starting to set.

As it dips lower, it paints the sky a breathtaking orange and pink that makes Namjoon want to grab his notebook to write out lyrics for some sappy love song. Jimin breaks through the forming words whirling around his brain and turns to Namjoon with wide, excited eyes.

“I’ve got to take some photos,” He gushes, motioning to the view. “The light is perfect.”

“Go on then,” Namjoon says, leaning back on his hands and watching Jimin rummage through his bag. Jimin pulls out a familiar Polaroid camera, and Namjoon’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“You’re still using that thing? I thought it would have broken by now,” Namjoon says, impressed with how long Jimin has had that exact camera. He knows it’s the same one, because he can see the ragged edge of a faded sticker peeking from under Jimin’s fingers. He’d watched Jimin put that particular sticker right there just three months before they were separated. A pang of nostalgia washes over him knowing the little duck is still there.

“Yep. Still going strong,” Jimin says, holding it up proudly. The camera is a bit worn around the edges; dents, scratches, and old stickers all over its body. It’s clearly seen a lot of use in the thirteen years he knows Jimin has had it, but it’s been well cared for.

“I remember when you first got it. You were obsessed with capturing everything,” Namjoon says, smiling fondly at the memory. Jimin waving it in his face at school when they got back from winter break, before taking pictures of himself with every single member of their class. He wonders if Jimin still has all those. Jimin rolls his eyes, but a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he stands to get a better angle of the cherry blossoms swaying gently in the breeze.

“Yeah, I guess some things don’t change.” He holds the camera up to his eye, the quiet click of the shutter and whir of the Polaroid mechanism breaking the surrounding calm. He carefully pulls out the photo, watching it develop with the same wide-eyed fascination he’d had as a teenager. It’s a look that Namjoon has always held close to his heart.

“Why’d you stick with it? The Polaroid, I mean. Why not get a digital camera now?” Namjoon asks, genuinely curious, as Jimin kneels down to snap a close-up of some flowers in the grass near the edge of the blanket. Jimin pauses at the question, the last photo sticking out of the camera as he thinks.

“I guess… there’s something about it. It feels more real, you know? Like… you only get one shot, and whatever you capture in that moment, that’s it. You can’t easily edit it or retake it a hundred times like you can with digital.” He says, pulling the photo from the slot and placing it gently on the blanket with the others. “It’s like catching a memory exactly as it is. Fuzzy edges and all.”

Namjoon watches him for a moment, struck by the sincerity in his words. It feels like such a Jimin thing to consider, but he supposes it’s a common enough feeling. Hell, he wholeheartedly agrees.

“That’s… kind of beautiful,” Namjoon admits, his voice quieter now, not wanting to break the peacefulness of the moment. Jimin smiles, a soft, almost shy curve of his lips as his cheeks take on a light flush.

“Besides, it’s a lot more fun than having a million blurry photos on my phone,” Jimin says, looking over at Namjoon with an amused glint in his eyes. Namjoon laughs, leaning back on his elbows and nodding.

“True. There’s definitely something special about it. About all analogue media, really. I like the tactility of it. Holding something in my hands as a physical reminder of the work that went into it.” His eyes follow Jimin as he moves around, snapping a few more photos of the river and skyline. The Polaroids now scattered across the blanket slowly come to life. Hues of deep pink and orange, each one looking charmingly rustic, some a little blurred, one definitely with Jimin’s finger in the corner.

“Right? The digital age feels so… impersonal,” Jimin hums as he sits beside Namjoon again, crossing his legs as he inspects the photos.

“I always forget how fast these develop,” Jimin hums, holding one up for Namjoon to see. It’s a shot of the cherry blossoms against the glowing sunset, the colours vibrant yet soft in that familiar instant photo way.

“They’re perfect,” Namjoon says earnestly. He watches as Jimin puts the photos in his bag with great care, before turning back to face him.

“You know, I think I need one of you to finish the set,” Jimin says, a small smile playing on his lips. Namjoon’s heart does a little nervous flip at the suggestion; he’s never really been fond of having his picture taken.

“Me? Uh… I’m not really photogenic, though,” He protests weakly, feeling heat creeping up his neck at the suggestion.

“Bullshit. You’ve always had that effortlessly cool thing going on,” Jimin says with a fond roll of his eyes. Namjoon disagrees with that sentiment, but gives in. How can he not, when it’s Jimin whose asking?

“Alright, but no judgement if it comes out weird,” He warns, sitting up a little straighter.

“No judgement, but maybe a little ribbing,” Jimin teases with a grin as he holds up the camera.

“Relax, you look good. And even if you didn’t, this light is extremely flattering on everyone. Trust me,” Jimin insists.

And Namjoon does trust him, with far more than just taking a photo of him. He prompts Namjoon to lean back on his hands and look out over the river. The shutter clicks, and the camera whirs as it spits out the image, then prepares the next photo. Jimin holds up the Polaroid with a pleased smile. Namjoon thinks it’s almost smitten.

“See? Told you. Perfect,” Jimin says, puffing out his chest proudly, a smirk at being right on his lips.

“Yah, you’re biased,” Namjoon shyly deflects, though he knows Jimin is right. The lighting is perfect, and the nature of instant film lends an almost dream-like filter to the image. Even Namjoon can admit he looks nice in it.

“Maybe, but that doesn’t make it any less true,” Jimin says, his smile widening. Namjoon rolls his eyes and grabs one of the few remaining kimbap slices to occupy his mouth before he says something weird. As Jimin puts the camera back in his bag, Namjoon wonders what he typically does with the photos. He’s always taken so many, he can’t have them all on display. He figures they’re destined for a dusty box somewhere, to be pulled out years down the line, but he hopes Jimin will display one or two of them, even if it’s not the one of him.

Jimin settles back by his side, their thighs pressed together even though there’s plenty of room on the blanket. Namjoon’s stomach does somersaults as Jimin rests his head on his shoulder as they let the ambient sounds of the riverside wash over them

“I’m glad we’re doing this. Glad we met again,” Jimin says softly, knocking his foot against Namjoon’s as he speaks.

“Me too,” Namjoon says, swallowing back the nervous excitement making him feel jittery again at having Jimin pressed so close. He’s sure his insides aren't supposed to be doing all those acrobatics, it’s probably not healthy.

Jimin’s smile could light up the city, Namjoon thinks, as he watches him lay back and stretch out on the blanket to soak in the view of the slowly darkening sky. The evening light softens everything, making Jimin look almost as if he’s made of candy floss, sweet and fluffy in his fuzzy pastel sweater. The soft swell of his cheeks and lips makes Namjoon want to lean over, to cup his face and kiss him.

“I was thinking… We should do this again sometime soon. I’ve really enjoyed today,” Jimin says with a coy smile.

Namjoon’s heart leaps into his throat.

“I’d love that!” He blurts, too loud for the moment, and grimaces at sounding over-eager. It makes Jimin’s eyes glitter and his cheeks swell into plump little buns—that Namjoon wants to bite in a fit of cute aggression—as his smile widens.

Jimin sits up, reaching out to twine their fingers together as he leans in and captures Namjoon’s lips with his own. Apparently, Namjoon needs to stop resisting the urge to kiss Jimin first, because this is the second time he’s been beaten to the punch.

The kiss is sweet and brief, yet the sensation of it remains vivid on Namjoon’s lips. He follows Jimin as he pulls away, wondering if this is what it means to fall head over heels for someone, because he’s about to topple over in his eagerness to keep kissing.

Jimin lets out a soft laugh and stops moving back, letting Namjoon kiss him again. This kiss lasts longer, though remains innocent. Namjoon lifts his free hand to caress Jimin’s cheek with his thumb.

“Thanks for today,” Namjoon whispers against Jimin’s lips. He gives their intertwined hands a light squeeze and feeling Jimin’s mouth curve into another warm smile against his own.

“You don’t need to thank me, I’ve enjoyed it just as much,” Jimin tells him softly, nuzzling into the hand on his cheek and gazing up at Namjoon through his lashes.

Night bleeds in as they trade sporadic soft kisses, contentment filling up every corner of Namjoon’s soul with Jimin curled against his side. The city lights start to twinkle, reflecting off the river and casting a soft, romantic glow over them.

Maybe it was a little fast to be canoodling on a blanket in the park, but they did have history, a foundation to build on. Namjoon realises that while so much had changed over the years, enough stayed the same that they weren't starting from zero.

He hesitates for a moment, the question forming on his lips before he can stop it. He glances at Jimin, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I know it’s getting late but… Would you like to… maybe, go back to one of our places?” He blurts it, then quickly adds, “Only if you want to, of course.”

Jimin’s eyes widen in surprise, but his expression softens, and he nods, a shy smile playing on his lips.

“I’d like that. Let's go back to mine. I’ve got to feed Gangyang anyway,” Jimin says, biting his plush lower lip before diving in for a final peck.

They’re quiet as they pack up, trading giddy smiles and brushing hands as Jimin passes him things to put away. Neither feel the need to fill the silence as Jimin leads Namjoon toward the station.

As they walk side by side, Namjoon can’t help but reflect on how strange it is that they're here at all, together like this. It feels like a dream. By the time they reach the station, Namjoon is about ready to vibrate out of his skin with anticipation.

The train ride today feels entirely different to their first meeting. Instead of startled glances from across a busy carriage, they sit close, their legs bumping against each other with the swaying of the train. Jimin’s presence is a calming force, yet Namjoon’s heart beats faster with each passing minute, nerves building the closer they get to Jimin’s place.

Namjoon sneaks a glance at Jimin, who’s looking out the window, lights reflecting in his eyes as they streak past. It’s surreal, being together, after all this time. Namjoon never imagined he’d see Jimin again, let alone that a simple commute home from work would be how they’d reconnect.

As they get off the train and head down the peaceful residential streets toward Jimin’s apartment, Jimin’s hand finds his. Their fingers curl together, and Namjoon’s heart swells.

He feels a flutter of anticipation at where the night might lead, but the warmth of Jimin’s hand in his is reassuring. It’s not that he expects this to lead to anything more. He doesn’t want to rush things, but he can’t help the ingrained thought that going back to someone's house after a date means something could happen.

"That’s my building," Jimin says as they turn a corner, a nervous smile tugging at his lips. He gestures to a nondescript apartment building, and Namjoon can immediately guess which his might be by the catio built into the little balcony.

They climb three flights of stairs to Jimin’s floor—apparently his lift has been out of order for a week—before he leads Namjoon down a quiet hallway to his door. Jimin fumbles slightly with his keys as his hands tremble with what Namjoon hopes is excitement, before unlocking the door and pushing it open.

Jimin steps inside first, flipping on the lights and kicking off his shoes. Namjoon follows suit, taking in the cosy space that appears just past the short entrance hallway. The apartment is instantly warm and inviting, the kind of place that feels lived in and loved. The floors are a warm, honey-coloured wood that glows softly under the lights, the walls painted in soft, neutral tones. There are splashes of vibrant colour everywhere and so, so many photos.

A small, plush couch sits in the living room, looking so inviting with the assortment of pillows and soft blankets scattered over it. He can easily picture Jimin curled up there, as if in a nest. There’s a few books and magazines scattered on the coffee table, along with a large scented candle. Beside the TV stand is a basket full of cat toys of every imaginable type. The side of the room with a door to a little balcony is mostly windows that are half obscured with a floor to ceiling cat tree. A long-furred calico cat perches on one of the highest platforms.

“That’s Gangyang,” Jimin says fondly, making his way over to give the feline a gentle scratch under the chin. “Come say hello.”

Namjoon joins Jimin, holding out a hand for Gangyang to sniff at curiously. There’s a nervous moment where Namjoon thinks the cat might reject him, her ears flicking back, before she bunts her head against his palm.

“She’s beautiful,” Namjoon says, stroking a hand down her back and marvelling at how silky her fur is. Sure, he’s no stranger to cats—though his family had always had dogs, Yoongi had a little black cat called Agust—but this is the first time he’s felt one with fur this sleek.

“She takes a hell of a lot of brushing. It’s a struggle to make sure my clothes aren’t covered in fluff before I leave the house. Ah, sorry in advance, you’ll probably be finding cat fur for weeks.”

“It’s fine, won’t be the first time. My co-worker, Yoongi, has a cat that sheds like mad. It’s mind-boggling just how much with how skinny and small he is, and yet there’s always more,” Namjoon laughs, continuing to stroke Gangyang—who is now purring up a storm—as he looks around at the rest of the room.

There’s a bookcase against the back wall opposite the windows, the entrance to the kitchen beside it. There’s a mix of books and knick-knacks on the shelves, and Namjoon sees what he’s sure are many photo albums taking up the bottom two shelves.

“I’ll put the leftovers from the picnic basket in the fridge so they don’t go bad. Do you want a drink?” Jimin asks as he goes back to where the basket has been left by the front door. “Tea, Coffee, Water?”

“Tea would be nice if you have it. It’s a bit late for coffee for me,” Namjoon says, leaving Gangyang—who is now giving herself a bath—in favour of following Jimin to the kitchen.

“Do you want barley or green?” Jimin asks as he puts things away.

“Uh, whatever you’re having is fine. Do you want any help?”

“Nah, relax and go sit down. You did all the picnic stuff today, let me take over,” Jimin says, and pushes Namjoon back out of the kitchen, pointing at the couch. “Sit!”

“Bossy,” Namjoon whines, but they’re both smiling as he sits on the delightfully comfortable couch with a sigh. As soon as he’s sitting, Gangyang jumps down from the tower and makes a beeline for him. She hops up beside him and flops herself against his thigh. He pets her as he listens to Jimin making their drinks, a fond smile turning up the corners of his lips as he hears soft humming. Jimin always had a beautiful voice, and Namjoon hopes he can hear him sing properly again soon.

It doesn’t take long for Jimin to bring their drinks out, placing two mugs of barley tea on the coffee table and sitting beside him, Gangyang between them.

“Are you monopolizing Hyung’s attention, Gangyangie?” Jimin huffs playfully, poking at the cat’s belly. She rolls further onto her side just to bat at Jimin’s hand, tail flicking in annoyance, before she skulks off into another room. Jimin pokes his tongue out at her as he snuggles closer to Namjoon. “Mine!”

“Y-yours, eh?” Namjoon stutters, a surprised and lopsided grin forming on his face at the claim.

“Ah… That is… If you want to, ah,” Jimin says haltingly before his back straightens and he looks at Namjoon with a determined expression. His chest is pressed close to Namjoon’s shoulder and it’d be so easy to lean in a few centimetres and kiss those pretty, pouty lips until they’re bitten-pink. “Namjoon, will you be my boyfriend?”

Instead of responding verbally, Namjoon surges forward, catching Jimin’s mouth in a searing kiss and tangling a hand in his hair. Jimin squeaks against him before wrapping his arms around Namjoon’s shoulders, kissing him back with equal fervour.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jimin breathes as they part, his fingers twirling a little tuft of hair at Namjoon’s nape.

“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes,” Namjoon says, punctuating each word with a quick peck.

Jimin grins and huffs a laugh against him. He leans back, placing a hand in the middle of Namjoon’s chest as he looks at him with dark eyes and swings a leg over his thighs to straddle him. The new position has Namjoon’s heart racing, Jimin’s firm thighs pressed against his own, the heat of his body so, so close. He slides his hands over Jimin’s hips, squeezing lightly as Jimin leans down to press an eager kiss to his lips.

Their tea sits forgotten, cooling as their kisses gain heat. Jimin presses the length of his body against Namjoon, the hardening jut of his cock pressed to Namjoon’s belly. Jimin curls his fingers under Namjoon’s chin, thumb resting just below his bottom lip, and traces the seam of his lips with a slick tongue. He coaxes Namjoon’s mouth open with his gentle grip, and Namjoon groans as that hot tongue laps into his mouth—obscene and so, so hot.

His hands find their way to Jimin’s hips, though they don't stay there long. Soon palms slide up and under Jimin’s sweater and the t-shirt beneath to find his waist, thumbs stroking over his hip-bones. The soft smack of lips fills the room as their tongues meet and retreat on loop. Namjoon is too warm, the heat of too many clothes working together with Jimin to make his head hazy.

“Will you stay the night?” Jimin asks, lips brushing his and making the kiss-slick skin tingle.

“Fuck, Jimin. Anything you want.”

“That’s the idea, yes,” Jimin purrs, tapping the tip of Namjoon’s nose with a finger and a feline grin.

They tumble through the bedroom door, nearly tripping over one of Gangyang's toys on the floor. Namjoon curses, and Jimin snickers against his lips. Hands grip and tug at Namjoon’s tee where it’s tucked into his jeans in an attempt to free it.

They’re frantic as they make their way further into the room, miraculously not breaking anything as they make a bee-line for the bed.

“I’ve learned a lot of new tricks since last time,” Jimin purrs, nipping at Namjoon’s lower lip as he strokes at Namjoon through his jeans, the friction of fabric against the aching head of his cock so painfully delicious. It’s a slight distraction from the jealousy that starts to bubble in his chest at the thought of Jimin with other people. He knows it’s irrational, they’ve not been together in so many years, Jimin wasn’t his.

But he is now.

Namjoon will make sure Jimin doesn’t need to be with anyone else ever again. Every new thing they’ll learn from here on out will be together.

“Yeah? Is one of those things ‘how to last more than a minute’?” Namjoon teases as he wrenches himself from the possessive thoughts clouding his brain, chuckling at the noise of mock offence that Jimin releases.

“Way longer than a minute. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” Jimin huffs, though Namjoon can tell he’s not really annoyed by the way his lips purse to fight a smile. He shoves at Namjoon’s shoulders and sends him sprawling on the mattress, looking up at Jimin with surprise.

He can’t tear his gaze away as Jimin’s hips sway to a beat only he can hear as he teasingly lifts his sweater and tee, a flash of hip-bones and a defined v-line on show before the t-shirt flutters down to cover it again. Namjoon is so fucking hard as he watches Jimin half strip for him, his fly digging into the rigid line of his cock as the sweater comes off.

Fuck, Jimin looks so good standing over him. His nipples hard and visible through the simple white t-shirt, jeans hugging his sinfully thick thighs, confidence rolling off him in waves. It’s such a stark contrast to the last—and only—time they’d done something like this, where he’d been nervous and awkward, curling in on himself with shame.

Then Jimin is lifting the tee over his head, exposing something completely unexpected—well, two somethings. The first thing that draws Namjoon’s gaze is the bold black letters inked on one side of his ribcage, NEVERMIND in ragged letters. A glint of metal draws his eyes away and up to the simple bars of nipple piercings.

“Wow,” Namjoon breathes, unable to stop the little exclamation of admiration as he processes this discovery. He never imagined Jimin would be the type to get body modifications, especially with how soft and light he seems to dress. Though Namjoon supposes he’s only seen Jimin three times now. There’s plenty he still doesn't know about his erstwhile lover. He’s excited to learn.

“You look so good,” Namjoon says, holding a hand out in invitation for Jimin to join him. Instead of taking it, Jimin shoots him a predatory grin and reaches down.

“Mm, let's see what treat we’ve got, hmm?”

Namjoon is about to ask what Jimin means, when his top is unceremoniously pulled up and over his head, cool air immediately making his nipples bead and goosebumps raise on his arms. Jimin drags his gaze over Namjoon’s reclining form, heat coiling in his gut—He feels like he’s on display. A spark of self-consciousness fizzles to life in his chest and Namjoon moves to cover his chest.

“Hey, no. Don’t hide,” Jimin scolds, though his voice is soft and warm. He climbs over Namjoon after what feels like an eternity, splaying a hand across Namjoon’s defined chest. “You look good too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Fuck, you’re so big now. So strong. Look at these arms,” Jimin says, taking a moment to circle his small hands around one of Namjoon’s biceps, practically purring at how muscular he is. “A real hunk. Gotta get you to pick me up while you fuck me sometime.”

Namjoon flushes under the praise, gripping at Jimin’s hips and pulling him down to lay fully between his legs as a distraction. Jimin’s hands relocate to Namjoon’s chest, pushing until Namjoon’s back makes contact with the sheets.

“Handsome. So big and muscly, but I bet you just want me to ride you good right now, don’t you?” Jimin hums, kneading Namjoon’s pecs. “Or maybe you want me to fuck you instead? Hmm?”

Namjoon arches into the touch, groaning as he nods, nerves melting away as his eagerness grows again. He’s not sure how Jimin could tell, maybe it was the way he was allowing himself to be manhandled despite their size-difference—how he’s letting Jimin do whatever he wants.

Compliant. Almost Submissive.

Jimin is a force of nature. An oncoming storm that electrifies the air and leaves sparks dancing across his skin. Namjoon can’t help but give himself over to it.

“I uh… I haven't really bottomed much. But I—I want it. Want you,” Namjoon confesses, voice small. He tilts his chin up in askance. The smile that Jimin graces him with is so tender and fond, and he presses a gentle kiss to Namjoon’s waiting lips, resting their foreheads together once they part. “I'll make you feel good this time. I promise.”

Namjoon’s heart flutters in his chest, an aching, needy thing at how safe Jimin makes him feel. Has always made him feel.

“Well, let’s get rid of these jeans, shall we? Can’t fuck you through them,” Jimin hums, hands sliding down Namjoon’s chest, fingers curling in the waistband of his jeans as he presses another light kiss to his lips. They pause there for a moment, fingers teasing at the skin just above the waistband, before he unbuttons and unzips them and gives a sharp tug, yanking Namjoon’s jeans and boxers down to his mid-thighs in one swift motion.

Namjoon’s dick springs free and audibly slaps against his belly, the sudden impact to the sensitive head forcing a rough moan from him. Jimin looks down, licking his lips at the sight of Namjoon’s dusky-pink cock, the flushed tip just peeking out of the foreskin.

“So handsome,” Jimin hums, sliding his hands up Namjoon’s thighs, kneading the sensitive skin where they meet his body. When he curls his hands around Namjoon’s rigid cock, Namjoon sucks in a sharp breath at how damn good it feels.

Shit, how long has it been since he’s been touched like this? His past trysts pale in comparison to Jimin’s hands, soft lips, and sweet voice. Jimin’s grip tightens as he nips at Namjoon’s jaw, nose trailing along it and up to the tender spot just below his ear.

Namjoon’s hips jerk when Jimin gives an experimental stroke, slow and deliberate, his thumb dragging over the sensitive slit. It’s almost too much, too intimate, and Namjoon has to fight the urge to hide his face in the crook of Jimin’s neck. Instead, he dips his head and guides Jimin back a little with hands on his ribs until he can reach Jimin’s pierced nipples with his mouth.

Namjoon tilts his head, shifting just enough to catch one of Jimin’s piercings between his lips. He flicks his tongue over the cool metal, then sucks lightly, enjoying the way Jimin’s breath hitches above him. Encouraged, he grazes it with his teeth and is rewarded with a low, choked moan. Jimin’s hips stutter forward, cock brushing against Namjoon’s thigh as his hand tightens reflexively around him.
Namjoon hums, mouth still on Jimin’s chest, and moves to the other nipple, giving it a slow lick before tugging on the barbell with his lips, playful but deliberate. The movement makes Jimin shudder, his composure slipping just enough for Namjoon to feel the tension ripple through his thighs.
He strokes over the ink on Jimin’s ribs, making a mental note to ask him about it later, nails scratching lightly along Jimin’s sides and making him twitch and gasp. His grip on Namjoon’s cock tightens as he strokes, slow and deliberate. Namjoon shudders at the steady slide of Jimin’s hand. Jimin twists his hand on the up-stroke in a way that has Namjoon’s hips jerking, almost overwhelming—and yet not enough.
“Gonna blow you while I prep you.” Jimin says, peering down at Namjoon through his lashes and licking his lips again, expression eager.

“Shit, yeah. Fuck. Yes please,” Namjoon groans, cock twitching in anticipation. Jimin huffs a laugh at his reaction, leaning up to press another kiss to his lips before pulling back.

He takes a moment to tug Namjoon’s jeans the rest of the way off, dragging the denim down over strong thighs and calves before tossing them aside carelessly. Then Jimin stands to strip off his own jeans, slower this time, knowing Namjoon is watching again. Namjoon’s breath catches as the fabric peels away, revealing more of that golden skin, tight abs tapering down to the flushed length of his cock jutting between his thighs below a trimmed thatch of pubic hair. It’s beautiful—shorter than his own but about as thick, uncut, the tip glistening.

Jimin leans over to snag the lube from the bedside drawer and then he’s crawling back onto the bed with intention. He slides between Namjoon’s spread thighs, nudging them open further with his shoulders as he settles in close, the heat of his breath already ghosting over Namjoon’s skin.

Namjoon groans at the sight—Jimin’s mouth level with his aching cock, his expression hungry and reverent, like he’s about to worship. The anticipation coils low in Namjoon’s belly as Jimin’s hands slide up the backs of his thighs and grip them, anchoring him in place.

From there things progress quicker, their eager haste returning as Jimin slicks up his fingers, circling one around the rim then sinking it into Namjoon to the base without preamble. Namjoon groans in relief at having something inside him—at having part of Jimin inside him—at last.

Namjoon feels like he’s been waiting for this ever since Jimin left, not just the few weeks they’d been back in contact—and maybe he has—He’d buried the fragile, fumbling adolescent feelings he’d had for Jimin, and assumed them gone. But they’d been there, dormant under the surface, like a seed waiting for the snow to thaw and spring to come so that it could grow and bloom.

His body adjusts quickly, loosening around Jimin’s finger with a kind of desperation. There’s no slow burn of resistance, no nerves prickling at the edge of his awareness—just heat and want, thick and engulfing. Jimin watches his face the entire time, reading every twitch, every gasp, both looking for any sign of discomfort and like he wants to memorize it all as Namjoon starts to fall apart.

Namjoon breathes through the stretch as the second finger presses in, slick and insistent, and lets his legs fall further open in invitation. He can feel himself clenching around the intrusion—his hole fluttering, body trying to eagerly pull Jimin in.

“God, I forgot how good this could feel,” he says with a soft, broken moan as his head falls back against a pillow.

“Gonna feel a whole lot better soon,” Jimin hums, pleased, fingers curling lightly inside him.

Jimin waits until he’s up to two fingers before he takes Namjoon in his mouth. He sucks teasingly at the head, tongue flicking over the slit before dipping under the foreskin to swirl around the glans. Namjoon whines at the stimulation, hands sliding into Jimin’s hair, nails scratching gently at his scalp.

Jimin then curls his fingers up to rub firmly over Namjoon’s prostate. Namjoon arches his back with a pleasured hiss and can feel himself leak pre-cum into Jimin’s mouth. Jimin laps it up hungrily, giving a pleased hum at the bitter taste when his tongue laves over the head.

It’s too good. Jimin’s mouth is too skilled, and his lips look far too sinful wrapped around his cock. Namjoon has to stop him before he gets too close. He gently tugs at Jimin’s hair and Jimin lets out a whine as he pulls off, hips bucking against the sheets—and that's something Namjoon will have to file away for later.

“Ah, fuck. Too close,” Namjoon pants, gritting his teeth against the unexpected wave of sensitivity. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t got off much since running into Jimin, maybe it’s just the fact that it’s Jimin—his mouth, his hands—that’s making everything feel so maddeningly intense. Jimin glances up at him with a smirk, tongue flicking over spit-slick lips.
“Poor Joonie,” he teases, grinning as he sinks a third finger in, slow and deliberate. Namjoon jerks with a sharp grunt, the sound loud in the stillness of the room. “Maybe you should be the one worried about finishing too fast.”
Namjoon exhales a strained laugh, eyes heavy-lidded but sharp. And, well, he can’t take that laying down now, can he? “Keep talking like that, and I’ll flip you over and show you how long I can last.”
“Is that a threat?” Jimin arches a brow, looking Namjoon up and down as if sizing him up and working out how much he could get away with—probably a lot considering he’s knuckle-deep.
“A promise,” Namjoon huffs, immediately wrapping his arms around Jimin’s neck when he’s in range and pulling him down into an ardent kiss, slipping his fingers into Jimin’s hair again. Jimin groans around a grin as their tongues meet, Namjoon sucking at Jimin’s almost aggressively.
Jimin continues to stretch him on three fingers as they kiss, twisting and curling and thrusting them until Namjoon is a groaning mess, arching up to press their bodies together as much as possible. Jimin’s cock brushes Namjoon’s thigh, and suddenly Namjoon is consumed with the realisation that it’ll be inside him soon, stretching him open and filling him up. Namjoon also realises that he’s been too passive for his own comfort so far, just laying back and letting Jimin pleasure him. Honestly, it’s a crime that he hasn’t got his hands or mouth on Jimin’s cock yet.

Untangling one hand from Jimin’s hair, Namjoon reaches between them and wraps his fingers around Jimin’s shaft. Both groan at the contact, albeit for different reasons.

“You’re so fucking thick,” Namjoon pants against Jimin’s mouth, nipping at his plush lower lip. Jimin bucks into his grip, a shaking breath tumbling from his lips as his brows furrow. “Shit, I’m ready.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Turn over. On your front,” Jimin practically growls, fingers slipping from Namjoon’s hole with an obscene wet noise. Namjoon almost whines at the loss, though the sound has his gut twisting in arousal.

He quickly rolls onto his stomach, arching his back to present his ass. He jerks in nervous anticipation as he feels Jimin’s hands spreading his cheeks, thumbs close to his hole to stretch it open slightly. Heat prickles on the back of Namjoon’s neck, feeling exposed beneath Jimin’s burning gaze.

“So pretty,” Jimin breathes, brushing a thumb over the lube-slick ring of muscle. He sounds as overwrought as Namjoon feels, voice low and rough with hunger as he massages then dips the tip of his thumb into Namjoon.

“Please just… fuck me,” Namjoon groans, spreading his legs a little further and pushing back into Jimin’s thumb, making it sink in up to the joint.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

There’s a moment of quiet—punctuated by Namjoon’s heavy breathing and the condom packet tearing. Jimin shifts, the mattress dipping by Namjoon’s hip as he supports himself on one hand. Then Namjoon feels the hot, blunt press of Jimin’s cock breaching him.

He grunts at the intrusion, gripping the sheets tightly as he breathes through that first stinging stretch—fuck, Jimin is thick.

A strained laugh sounds behind him and Namjoon realises he said that out loud, though cant find it in himself to be embarrassed now. Jimin presses a hand to his lower back, caressing gently with his thumb as he stills to allow Namjoon to adjust. Taking a steadying breath, Namjoon rocks back onto him in little, jerking movements, taking a centimetre or two each time.

“So hot and tight,” Jimin moans, and it’s the prettiest sound Namjoon’s heard in his life. He thinks he could spend eternity listening to Jimin moan. He suddenly wishes he was on his back so he could also see Jimin. See how pretty he’s bound to look in the throes of pleasure.

Jimin presses his chest to Namjoon’s back, wrapping his arms around Namjoon’s waist. He slides one hand up as he gives shallow rocks of his hips, fingers finding one of Namjoon’s nipples and brushing over it. The dual points of pleasure have Namjoon groaning, pre-cum beading at the tip of his cock.

Jimin presses open-mouthed kisses along the back of Namjoon’s shoulders as he fucks into him in slow, measured movements, pulling out just a little further each time until he’s giving Namjoon the full length of his cock with every thrust. He feels like Jimin is carving out a space inside his body, stretching him more than he’s ever felt.

“Fuck. Feel so good,” Jimin hisses, tongue flicking out to tease the shell of Namjoon’s ear, sending a shiver rolling down his spine. Namjoon turns his head, catching Jimin’s lips as best he can in this position and groans when Jimin bites at his lower lip.

“W-wanna see you,” Namjoon manages to gasp against Jimin’s mouth, their noses bumping. Jimin grants his wish, though he whines embarrassingly as Jimin pulls out and helps him roll over.

“Shh, not gonna be empty for long, Hyung,” Jimin purrs, voice soft and amused as they rearrange themselves so Namjoon is on his back, hands under his thighs to hold his legs up, putting himself on display for Jimin. “Look at you, so handsome for me. So ready to take me again.”

Jimin steadies himself with a hand just below Namjoon’s on a thigh, the other gripping his cock. Namjoon keens with need as Jimin teasingly guides the head of his cock against Namjoon’s waiting hole but doesn't push in. Instead he rubs back and forth, tip catching on the rim maddeningly. Namjoon’s breath catches and shudders each time he thinks Jimin is finally going to fill him again only to be left wanting.

“You said not long,” Namjoon groans, dropping one of his legs to throw an arm over his eyes.

“Aww, poor Namjoonie. Need my cock so bad huh?” Jimin chuckles, and it’s almost infuriating how composed and in control he sounds. Namjoon barely has time to breathe, let alone respond, before Jimin is sinking into him again with one long, deep thrust.

There’s no pause once Jimin is fully sheathed in Namjoon’s tight heat once more—no more slow grind to drive Namjoon insane. Instead he sets an almost punishing pace, able to sink slightly deeper with this new position. Namjoon’s cock lays heavy and leaking against his belly, leaking pre-cum on his skin with every jostle.

The slick smack of lube-smeared skin hitting skin accompanies their ragged breathing, punctuated by choked off moans and gasps and grunts of pleasure and exertion.

Jimin sounds so pretty when he moans.

“Taking it so good for me,” Jimin pants, fingers digging bruises into the meat of Namjoon’s hips as he pistons into him. “Taking it so perfect.”

“Ah—min. Jimin,” Namjoon chokes out, fingers twisting, twisting, clawing at the sheets. So good. It’s so good and Namjoon can't think, can't breathe properly, each attempt punched right back out of him by Jimin’s powerful hips.

“I thought you wanted to see me,” Jimin pants, reaching up to push Namjoon’s arm away from his face. Namjoon struggles to focus his eyes through the onslaught of pleasure, but when he does he sees Jimin above him, haloed by the ceiling light and looking like a debauched angel.

“Shit, ‘min. Pretty,” Namjoon tells him. He lets go of his other thigh and curls both hands around the back of Jimin’s neck, pulling him in. Namjoon needs him close—needs to feel their bodies pressed together as much as possible.

They can’t quite kiss, not with how hard Jimin is pounding into him, but Namjoon’s breath catches in his throat as Jimin licks into his mouth, lapping obscenely. The new position also has the bonus that on the next thrust, Jimin hits his prostate dead one, sending aching sparks of pleasure shooting through him.

“Shit! There.”

“Yeah? Right here?” Jimin asks with a particularly sharp thrust that has Namjoon’s eyes rolling back and his spine arching.

“More,” Namjoon chokes out, hands sliding down from Jimin’s neck to his back, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. “Fuck, please.”

“Wanna cum, baby? ” Jimin purrs, voice like molten honey in Namjoon’s ears. The deep, sweet tone of it has Namjoon’s heart skipping a beat in his chest. He wants to tuck the sound of it inside a little music box inside him and keep it forever.

Namjoon’s cock slides, wet with pre-cum, between their bellies, just slick enough to bring him that much closer to release. He’s so close—the coil in his gut wound so tight and taut, ready to snap at a moment's notice. He makes a choked-off noise, clenching around Jimin even tighter than he already was. Just a little more.

“Shit. That’s it baby. Cum for me,” Jimin pants, a hand coming down on the outside of Namjoon’s thigh, a loud stringing smack ringing through the room right as Jimin’s cock jabs into his prostate. Namjoon is sent over the edge with a curse, spilling between them in a hot rush.

“Don’t stop,” Namjoon grunts, mouthing at Jimin’s neck and shoulder, sucking marks into the sweat-slick skin. Jimin doesn’t stop, he keeps fucking into Namjoon with force, his rhythm faltering as he nears his own release. The drag of their skin over Namjoon’s cock is on the wrong side of too much, his hips and hole aching, but he doesn't want to stop—He needs Jimin to keep going, needs Jimin to cum inside him. Next time he hopes Jimin will forgo the condom.

Jimin’s moans reach a fever pitch before they descend into sweet whines and gasps, sinking into Namjoon one last time with an almost relieved moan of Namjoon’s name as he spills into the condom. He grinds into Namjoon as he rides out his orgasm, and Namjoon can feel him trembling with the effort.

Namjoon pulls him in close, and Jimin goes boneless against him, resting his full weight on Namjoon and nuzzling into Namjoon’s neck as he catches his breath.

They lay like that for who knows how long, sweat and Namjoon’s cum cooling on their skin, both panting, hearts slowly calming. Eventually Jimin reaches down and holds the condom to the base of his cock as he pulls out with a wet noise that Namjoon is ashamed to admit makes his cock twitch—He’s always been an auditory kind of guy.

Jimin rolls off him to discard the tied off condom, but immediately curls back into Namjoon’s side, pressing a tender kiss to his jawline. Namjoon threads his fingers through Jimin’s sweat-damp hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp, a pleased hum rumbling in Jimin’s throat.

“We should shower and change the sheets,” Jimin eventually groans, sitting up again with a grimace. Namjoon’s semen has mostly dried on their bellies, and the musk of sex hangs thick in the air. “Think you can stand long enough for that? Or have I fucked the ability to stand out of you?”

Namjoon chuckles, pushing himself up to catch Jimin’s lips, bumping their noses together as he cups Jimin’s cheek with a hand.

“It’s a close call, but I think I can manage. Not sure how long I’ll be able to stay conscious though.”

Namjoon wakes the next morning to a yelp and a yelled ‘I'm sorry!’ followed by a door slamming. He sits bolt upright, confused at where he is for a moment before the night before comes flooding back.

Right. Jimin's bed, Jimin's room, Jimin's apartment. His heart flutters at the memory, the ache of last nights activities making itself known.

But… who the hell was that?

Namjoon blinks blearily as he looks around the softly sunlit room, still warm with sleep and faintly smelling of the faint lavender-clean scent of Jimin’s shampoo. He shifts, sheets a tangle at his waist, and glances over to find Jimin still beside him—bare-chested, sleep-mussed, and blinking sluggishly at the door.

Jimin, still half-asleep, scrubs a hand over his face, hair sticking out in gravity-defying tufts and eyes slightly puffy. “Ah, shit. Forgot about Jungkookie,” he mumbles, and leans over to press a drowsy kiss to Namjoon’s temple before swinging his legs off the bed.

Jimin pads across the room, unashamedly nude as he digs for a pair of sweatpants. Something irrational and hot prickles in Namjoon’s gut. He grabs his t-shirt from the floor and pulls it over his head, slipping into his boxers shortly after, then grabs a hoodie—Jimin’s, oversized and soft—and offers it up as Jimin tugs on his sweats.

“Thought you might be cold,” Namjoon mumbles, trying to sound casual, but Jimin grins, smug and knowing. It’s totally nothing to do with not wanting his Jimin hanging around this unknown—to Namjoon at least—man while shirtless. Jimin’s soft honey skin is his territory now and he’ll guard it jealously.

“Of course. Just worried about my delicate constitution, right?” he says, slipping the hoodie on. Namjoon refuses to acknowledge the smirk on Jimin’s lips as he zips it up.

When they step into the kitchen, Jungkook is already there, leant back against the counter with a mug in one hand and a banana in the other. His head snaps up as they walk in—Jungkook’s eyes go wide.

“Wow. Thighs,” he says bluntly, gaze dropping to rake over Namjoon’s legs before jerking back up. “So, you're Jimin’s boyfriend?”

“Jeon Jungkook!” Jimin groans, a scandalized flush to his cheeks.

Namjoon doesn’t miss a beat. He steps in behind Jimin and slides an arm securely around his waist, drawing him back into his chest. His height dwarfs Jimin’s, but the way Jimin leans into him makes it clear he likes it there.

“Yep. That’s me,” Namjoon says—they only put a label to it last night, how would Jungkook know?—voice calm but undeniably possessive.

Jungkook raises his brows, lips tugged into an amused smile. “Cute. Don’t worry, big guy—I’m spoken for. Got myself a world-wide handsome chef boyfriend. But Jiminie, maybe give your man a heads up about Taehyung-hyung before he gets here?”

Jimin groans, clearly exasperated. “Taehyung is my best friend. You don’t have to worry about him either. He’s aro-ace and happily single. We just snuggle.”

‘I’m not worried’ says a petulant voice in Namjoon’s head.

“He’s coming here?” Namjoon asks, splaying his hand over Jimin’s belly and hooking his chin comfortably over his shoulder.

“Weekly standing brunch appointment,” Jungkook supplies helpfully. “Someone forgot to cancel.”

Jimin winces. “Right. I meant to. Got… distracted.”

“I can go,” Namjoon says softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of Jimin’s head. “Let you guys have your brunch.”

Jimin spins in Namjoon’s arms with a dramatic, alarmed look and Jungkook laughs brightly. “No. Absolutely not. If I let you leave now, Taehyung will never let me hear the end of it. Jungkook gets to meet my boyfriend first? He’ll pout for weeks!”

So Namjoon stays. They brew more tea and Jimin throws together a surprisingly competent brunch, humming under his breath while Namjoon steals glances from his place at the small breakfast island. Gangyang weaves between their legs. By the time Taehyung arrives, Namjoon is relaxed, warm, and laughing at something ridiculous Jungkook said about his boyfriend burning water.

And when Taehyung finally arrives—dramatic scarf, loose cardigan, and dark, wild curls bouncing as he glides into the room—he immediately squints at Namjoon as he gives him a once over, humming thoughtfully before he gives a decisive nod.

“Nice. You’ll do.”

And just like that, Namjoon finds his place in Jimin’s life, woven back into a tapestry he thought had unraveled ten years before.