Chapter Text
Yoongi hasn’t slept for at least six days.
Realistically, it's probably only been two nights, broken up by a half hour here or there passed out on the studio couch. Still, it feels like six days.
By the time he finally closes out the programs on his computer, powers down the soundboard, and packs his bag, Yoongi feels like he’s been hit by a truck. He needs to go home and pass out in an actual bed. His body is sore and his head hurts and he probably shouldn’t do this anymore, this thing where he pretends he doesn’t need sleep or food, that music will sustain him.
He’s too old for that anymore.
What he actually doesn’t need is to hear the distinct rapping knock he now hears on his door.
Yoongi pauses where he was zipping his backpack, letting his chin fall to his chest and a heavy sigh fall from his mouth. He squints his sleep-heavy eyes at his phone, checking the time and ignoring numerous missed messages.
2:36 am.
Who in their right mind is still here at that time?
He catches himself in that thought, remembering that he is still here. Right.
“Hyung? Are you still here? I saw your light was on.”
Ah. Of course it's Namjoon.
Yoongi opens the door, and is greeted with the familiar sight and scent of the young alpha. Kim fucking Namjoon. With a black hoodie pulled up over his head and bags under his eyes, he looks like he actually has been here for six days.
“Oh- hyung! You are still here.” He certainly doesn’t sound sleep deprived. He’s far too chipper for 2:36 in the fucking morning.
Yoongi grunts in response, noticing two cups of coffee in the alpha’s hands. “S’one of those for me?”
Namjoon takes a moment too long to answer, eyes dropping almost in surprise to the coffee cups before nodding. “Oh right, the coffee. Yeah I got it for you! Iced americano, right?”
Yoongi accepts the coffee with a sniff, stepping out of the doorway in silent invitation. The alpha doesn’t waste time before entering the studio and plopping down on the couch. Yoongi closes the door behind him and moves his backpack from the seat where he had been zipping it and sits, sipping gratefully. Namjoon eyes the backpack.
“Oh, were you getting ready to leave?”
Well, obviously. But Yoongi doesn’t say that out loud.
“Don’t worry about it, Namjoon. Thanks for this.” He lifts the cup as he speaks and Namjoon visibly deflates with what seems to be relief, his mouth curling up into a satisfied smile.
“Don’t mention it, hyung. I hadn’t seen you leave your studio for a while, so I thought you could use it.” He takes a sip of his own drink, a warm matcha latte if Yoongi had to guess. With almond milk.
Who the fuck drinks almond milk?
Kim Namjoon does. Like some kind of psychopath.
“What have you been working on that’s got you here so late?” Yoongi doesn’t make eye contact as he asks. He rarely does.
“I was working on something for that new girl group, the one that is getting ready to debut.” Yoongi nods in understanding. It is impressive, really, that Namjoon was given this task in his first year at the company. At his age, Yoongi had been an assistant working for the people that worked for the people that produced stuff for new groups.
Then again, Yoongi is an omega. And that unfortunately makes a difference.
Yoongi shakes himself from the thought. There is nothing that could be done about it that would change the past or the world they live in, and truthfully, Namjoon is a talented producer and whatever he is working on is probably excellent.
“And you? What’s got you locked up in your studio?” Namjoon asks through a yawn, genuine interest shining in his eyes. Yoongi shifts his gaze away, looking at the wall behind the alpha’s head instead as he responds.
“Ah, just some personal stuff. I’ve been putting together a mixtape in between projects. I finished cleaning up that song for Park Jimin on Thursday, so I’ve had some time to work on a couple of my own songs.” The alpha sits up further in his seat.
“Really, hyung? That’s so cool! Your last mixtape was so good, I can’t imagine how much better this one will be. Can I hear something from it?”
Yoongi’s heart stops. “No!” Namjoon looks startled by the abrupt response, flinching.
Yoongi looks down, trying to hide the heat blushing his cheeks. “Ugh, sorry. You surprised me. I mean no, not yet. Nothing is ready.”
Namjoon deflates a bit. Is he disappointed? Yoongi doesn’t let himself think about that.
“That’s okay, hyung. I get it. Still, if you ever need another ear, just let me know. I’d love to help.”
Right. Help from the twenty-one-year old with half the experience that Yoongi has. What a generous offer.
“Thanks, Namjoon. I’ll do that. And thanks again for this.” He shakes his almost empty plastic cup, the ice cubes clacking softly against each other. He looks down at his watch again. Is it really already 3? “Ah, I really should head out though.”
Namjoon gets the message, standing up a little too quickly at the same time as Yoongi. His head collides with Yoongi’s. Specifically with Yoongi’s nose.
Blood floods down Yoongi’s face and shirt almost immediately, before pain even registers, before Yoongi even realizes that the crack he heard was his own nose breaking. When it does register, his hand flies to his nose and comes away bloody, and tears spring involuntarily to his eyes. “Ow! Fuck! What the fuck!?”
Namjoon looks at Yoongi, at the blood dripping from his face, in horror. “Shit! Oh, shit! Hyung, I’m so sorry! Shit, what can we use to stop the bleeding?” He spins where he stands, scrambling, searching for something, anything that Yoongi could place on his nose before he stops, pulling his hoodie over his head and pushing it into Yoongi’s face. “Here, use this!”
“Ow, shit! Be careful, kid!” Despite his words, Yoongi accepts the hoodie, if only to try and stop the bleeding. He thinks briefly that he is lucky he can’t smell anything at the moment. Namjoon is hovering, concerned twisting his face as he watches Yoongi. Yoongi’s voice is muffled when he speaks next. “Don’t just stand there! I’ve got cold drinks in that fridge over there. Grab one for me to put on my nose.”
Namjoon does as he’s asked, grabbing a cold can of soda and handing it to Yoongi, who awkwardly maneuvers the hoodie and the can so one is soaking the blood and the other is soothing the ache that is radiating from his nose.
“Hyung, I’m so sorry. It was a total accident. Shit, there is so much blood.”
“Respectfully, Namjoon, shut up.”
Namjoon does. Yoongi closes his eyes for a moment, breathing through his mouth as he considers his next steps.
“Fuck, the last thing I wanted to do tonight was go to the fucking emergency room.”
Namjoon curls in on himself. A feat considering his broad shoulders and strong arms, which Yoongi definitely isn’t noticing now that the hoodie is gone. “I’m so sorry, hyung. Let me help you. I’ll get you to the emergency room. It’s the least I can do.”
Yoongi considers. “Okay. Right, yeah. Take me to the ER.”
Namjoon nods eagerly, picking up Yoongi’s backpack and swinging it onto his shoulder, thumbs tapping urgently across his phone screen. “I’m going to run and grab my stuff. I’ll meet you at the elevator? I’m calling a taxi now.”
It's awkward in the taxi. Yoongi and Namjoon sit stiffly next to each other in the backseat, silent through the ride. Namjoon watches Yoongi warily as Yoongi continues to hold the hoodie, now soaked in blood, and the soda can, no longer cold, against his aching nose. Yoongi looks decisively out the window beside him.
At the hospital, it doesn’t take long for him to be seen and bandaged. Namjoon lingers somewhat awkwardly near the doorway. He looks miserable.
Yoongi can’t stand it. “I’m hungry. Go to the vending machine or something, Namjoon. Stop hovering like that. S’fucking weird.” Namjoon seems relieved to have something to do, nodding eagerly and practically flying out of the room.
It’s the nurse who is helping Yoongi wipe up some of the blood who says it, after his nose has been bound and stabilized. “Is that your alpha? He seems really worried. Poor guy, he kept asking us if you had permanent damage.”
Yoongi snorts and then regrets it when pain flares through his nose.
“You think I’m with him? He’s a baby.” Yoongi shakes his head before regretting that, too. Why would she think that? “No, he’s a coworker. He smacked his colossal head into mine and did this. He just feels guilty.” Is Yoongi justifying it to her or to himself?
The nurse gives him a knowing look. She’s older than him, Yoongi thinks, and Yoongi can’t tell if she’s omega or alpha since he can’t smell. “I suppose I don’t know either of you, but that doesn’t seem like just guilt to me.” She wrings out her rag in a bowl of water next to her, blood blooming red through the water. “Go easy on him, hmm? I think he’s got a little crush.”
Yoongi’s eyes widen. He scoffs internally. What does this stranger know about Namjoon? About him?
“Thanks for your help. Can I go now?” It's maybe blunter than he’d like it to be, but he’s tired and he still hasn’t slept, and she’s saying things he doesn’t care to hear.
The nurse accepts his cue, wheeling her cart out of his way. “You are all good to go. Take acetaminophen, not ibuprofen, to manage the pain as needed for the next couple of weeks. Your break wasn’t too bad, the swelling should go down soon.”
Yoongi nods and stands, just as Namjoon reenters the room, arms full of snacks and drinks.
“You’re okay? They are sending you home?”
The nurse smiles at him. “Yes, he’s all good to go.” She pats the alpha on the arm on her way out the door. “Make sure he gets home safely. He seems a bit tired. And don’t forget that.” She gestures knowingly at the hoodie, laid out on the hospital bed beside Yoongi.
Namjoon nods gratefully. “Of course.”
She exits the room, and it's just Namjoon and Yoongi again. Yoongi steps over to his backpack, shouldering it gently. “Right, well I’ll just head home now. Thanks for your help, Namjoon.”
He steps towards the doorway, but the alpha is still standing in it, broad- shouldered, arms full, staring at him with a deep frown.
“Hyung, I’m going to help you get home. You look exhausted. I wouldn’t feel right letting you go by yourself right now, especially not after I hurt you the way I did.
Yoongi considers arguing, saying that Namjoon looks just as tired, that he can get home on his own, that he doesn’t live far, that he doesn’t need anyone to help him. He considers it, but he’s so tired, and he just wants to lay down, and he doesn’t have the energy to argue right now.
In the end, Yoongi just nods. “Alright. Let’s go then. I don’t live far.”
Namjoon’s shoulders drop and he breathes a sigh of relief. “Great. Let’s do it.” He scans the room, making sure they haven’t forgotten anything. “Hyung, do you mind carrying that?” He nods towards the hoodie, and Yoongi can’t tell if he’s imagining the slight blush on his cheeks. “My arms are kind of…”
Yoongi stares at the hoodie for a moment, thoughts moving through molasses. This doesn’t have to be weird. He picks up the hoodie before he can think too much about it and looks at Namjoon. “Ready?”
Yoongi feels like death warmed over by the time they get to his apartment. His key misses the keyhole twice before it finally slots in and he turns it, the promise of sleep welcoming him home.
It's dark and quiet in the apartment. His roommate, Hoseok, must be sleeping.
He sets the things he’s carrying down near the door and turns back to Namjoon, who he catches looking into the apartment with wide eyes before he catches himself. “Oh, here you go.” He hands some of the snacks and drinks to Yoongi, and now they are both standing in front of the door overloaded with items. Yoongi stubbornly refuses to take all of it, even though Namjoon insists that “It’s the least I can do, hyung, really, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make up for this.”
Yoongi just shakes his head and sends the alpha off, saying he needs to go to bed, that he’s too old and tired to be up this late, and that he’ll see him at work in a couple days.
Namjoon seems satisfied enough with this, and with a glance back, walks back down the hallway to the stairs, heading to his own home, or back to the studio, Yoongi doesn’t really know. And why should he care? Why does he care?
As a young omega, Yoongi had been idealistic, romantic, and naive. He’d left home, freshly 18, convinced that he would make it big in Seoul.
Landing a job at BigHit had felt like proof to him that he was right. He’d been so excited and eager. He didn’t care that he was a low-level assistant, or that he was overlooked time and time again for opportunities to prove himself. He hadn't cared that he had to work a second or a third job just to make rent, just to afford to eat. As far as he was concerned, he was making it. He was proving everyone wrong.
The world is a cruel place. Especially for omegas.
When Yoongi wakes up the next day (at 4 in the afternoon, mind you), he unfortunately still feels like he’s been run over by a truck. His nose throbs painfully as he stumbles out of bed and into the bathroom, where he palms several painkillers and swallows them with water directly from the bathroom faucet. He splashes his face with water, ignoring his greasy hair and the bruises blooming around his nose.
Hoseok is sitting on the couch, watching some trash reality show and scrolling on his phone. “Well look who finally decided to wa- What the fuck, hyung? What happened to you?”
Yoongi hadn’t thought he’d looked that bad. Maybe he was wrong. “Kim Namjoon.”
Hoseok goes from looking shocked to concerned to angry in a matter of seconds. “What the fuck? Did he hurt you? Hyung, did you call the police? What happened?”
Yoongi realizes the implications of what he had said a little too late. “Oh no. Sorry, he didn’t hurt me on purpose. He smacked me in the face with his giant head and broke my nose.” Yoongi starts the coffee maker as he talks. He wishes he could smell right now. He loves the smell of fresh coffee.
When he turns back to Hoseok, the beta is no longer angry. Instead, he is wearing a devious smile that Yoongi knows far too well. His chest swells with panic. “No! Don’t go there. Nothing happened. Namjoon is a child.”
Hoseok gets off the couch, bounding over to Yoongi in delight. “Not a child. A very tall, broad alpha who you just so happened to be close enough to for him to hit your face with his.” He examines Yoongi’s nose as he speaks, that stupid smile still stretching across his face. “Tell me, my lovely little Yoongi-hyung, what were you doing with Namjoon last night?”
Yoongi scoffs and turns back to the coffee maker. “Nothing. Don’t be a freak. He brought me coffee and we were drinking in my studio and when we went to stand up the clumsy idiot did this.” Yoongi can tell he’s said the wrong thing because Hoseok’s eyes are shining with mirth, and dread curls in his stomach.
“Oh, he was in your studio in the middle of the night? Interesting, hyung. Very, very interesting.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes and pours himself some coffee, taking a sip. It's bitter and hot and exactly what he needs right now. “Hobi, stop being weird. He was just being nice because we were both working late. And then he broke my nose. That’s it.”
Hoseok doesn’t look like he believes Yoongi. It makes Yoongi feel irritated in a way that makes his whole body feel warm and itchy.
“Right, Yoongi. Whatever you say. Is that why he left his hoodie here?”
Yoongi’s eyes go wide and he glances over to the hoodie where it sits on top of his bag, both of which he left by the door last night (or this morning) in his sleep-deprived stupor.
Yoongi stills. Which unfortunately is answer enough. Hoseok is delighted.
“When I awoke bright and early this morning I was just trying to clean up after my very messy, irresponsible roommate when I came upon a hoodie, which seemed far too large to belong to my tragically tiny roommate.” Hoseok is walking to the hoodie as he dramatically regails Yoongi. “And what do I find when I pick up the hoodie and look in the pocket, but THIS.” He reaches into the pocket and pulls out an ID badge belonging to Kim Namjoon. Fuck.
“I forgot to give it back. Give me a break, Hoseok. You know I didn’t want to keep it. And I’m not tiny.”
“Do I know that? Because it seems to me that you have a sweater belonging to an alpha in your possession.” He points an accusing finger at Yoongi. “You’ve been caught red handed.”
Yoongi nudges Hoseok’s hand away without much force and rolls his eyes. “Hoseok, that sweater is covered in my blood. It was all we had available to stop my nose from bleeding last night.”
Hoseok drops the hoodie like it’s contagious. “Yuck! What the fuck? Why did you let me touch that?”
Yoongi sighs in exasperation and picks up the hoodie, holding it a distance from himself to examine. It’s a black hoodie, blood crusted in some areas. He can’t smell anything, but he’s certain it smells like both Namjoon and himself, and he’s all of a sudden very grateful that betas can’t scent the way alphas and omegas can.
He reaches into the pockets and pulls out the ID, along with a half eaten candy bar, setting them on the table before going to the sink to fill it. He needs to soak it in cold water and soap so he can try and salvage it.
“I didn’t mean to keep it. His arms were full last night so he asked me to carry it, and then when we got to the apartment he must have forgotten to t-” Yoongi realizes his mistake at the same time Hoseok does.
“He dropped you off!? Here!?”
Yoongi closes his eyes for a moment. He regrets everything he has ever done. Ever.
“Let me get this straight. Kim Namjoon was with you in your studio, and then at the hospital, and then he dropped you off here at your home. And you let him see where you live and you kept his hoodie?”
“Have I ever mentioned that I hate you?”
“Every day, Yoongi. Don’t avoid the question. Is that what happened or not?”
“It is what happened. But that doesn’t make it mean anything. There was an accident and Namjoon felt guilty. That’s it. There is nothing else to it. So stop trying to make something out of nothing.” Yoongi is scrubbing aggressively at the crusted spots on the sweater.
He can practically hear Hoseok rolling his eyes when he says, “Right, okay Yoongi. I’ll let you off the hook for now. But don’t think you’ve heard the last of this.”
He finally leaves Yoongi at the sink in peace and he exhales slowly in relief. It doesn’t matter if Hoseok believes him or not. He knows that it doesn’t mean anything, that it was a messy, coincidental series of events. And that’s all it was.
That’s all it can be.
When he is done scrubbing at the hoodie, he leaves it in the sink to soak. He turns to the counter, where he sees the vending machine food stacked on the counter. He finally registers what Namjoon had selected.
Cup ramen, soda, candy bars, coffee, and chips. It's like he had bought everything offered. Yoongi considers the pile for a moment before selecting a cup of ramen and starting the kettle to warm some water. He’s hungry.
Yoongi goes back to the studio two days after the incident. He is still wearing the splint on his nose, the doctor had told him to come back in a week to check the alignment and remove the splint. He doesn’t like the number of people that stare at him on the commute over.
He packed the hoodie, along with the ID and candy bar, in a paper shopping bag. It seems as good as new, as far as Yoongi can tell, and he’s careful not to leave his scent on it any more than he needs to. Of course, by nature of it being in his apartment it may smell like him, not that he can smell yet to be able to tell. He can’t wait for the swelling to go down. He feels impaired without his sense of smell.
He goes to the studio Namjoon usually works in first, wanting to unload the hoodie as soon as possible.
When he knocks on the door, he doesn’t get a response. He knocks again, louder this time, but still doesn’t get a response. Maybe he isn’t there? He gently pushes the door open and pokes his head inside.
He is greeted with the sight of Namjoon sitting at his computer, working on whatever song he is producing, headphones sitting over his ears. He must not have heard the knocks on the door.
Yoongi briefly considers coming back later, but reconsiders. He should just get it over with.
He stays in the doorway. “Namjoon.” The alpha doesn’t respond. Yoongi repeats the name, a little louder this time. Still no response. Yoongi huffs and steps into the studio.
He walks carefully towards Namjoon, who still hasn’t noticed his presence. He is a few steps away when he sees the alphas nose flare and he turns towards Yoongi, a little too quickly.
He jumps, rolling back in his seat, which yanks the headphones off his head. They clatter loudly to the floor. “Hyung! You’re here.” His eyes are wide and his cheeks are pink. He’s whipping his eyes around the room, clearly shocked.
Yoongi steps back when Namjoon jumps. “Sorry, I knocked, but you didn’t hear me.”
Namjoon shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, hyung. It’s good to see you.” He grimaces, “That bruising looks like it hurts. I’m so sorry, again. I’m such an idiot.”
“It’s fine, really, Namjoon. I’m fine. The swelling is starting to go down and it really doesn’t hurt too much anymore. It looks worse than it feels, I think.” He looks down at the bag in his hand, suddenly remembering what brought him here. “I wanted to bring this back to you. I didn’t mean to take it the other day. I totally forgot that I was the one carrying it.”
Namjoon warily takes the bag from his hand, pulling out the hoodie. “Oh, thanks, Yoongi-hyung.” He examines it more closely, his nose flaring slightly again. “You cleaned it? You didn’t need to do that.”
“Ah well it was covered in my blood. Thanks for letting me use it.”
“It was only covered in your blood because I broke your nose. Seriously, I could have washed it.”
Yoongi nods and shifts his weight. Silence settles awkwardly between them.
Namjoon looks at the bottom of the bag. “Oh, my ID! I was wondering where this was!”
“I was wondering how you got in the building, to be honest.”
Namjoon looks up at Yoongi sheepishly. “I lose it often. Security knows me well at this point.” Yoongi is startled into laughter. He imagines Namjoon shuffling into the building and over to security, where the old security officer scolds him.
Namjoon looks pleased for some reason.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to work.” Yoongi moves to leave the studio.
Namjoon’s face falls briefly before he stops Yoongi, reaching up to hold his wrist lightly. “Wait!”
Yoongi freezes, looking down at his wrist. Namjoon does the same, eyes widening in panic. He drops his hand, and his cheeks go pink again.
“Sorry. It’s just… Can you listen to something for me?”
Yoongi deliberates. His wrist feels warm where Namjoon had held it. It doesn’t hurt to listen for Namjoon. Listening doesn’t commit him to anything. And he really is curious what the alpha is working on. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”
Namjoon smiles brightly. He hurries to the corner of the room, picking up a chair and setting it next to his, close enough to share audio but not quite touching. He sits in his chair and motions to Yoongi to sit. Yoongi eyes the new chair for a moment before slowly sitting down.
Namjoon unplugs the headphones, now forgotten on the floor, and presses play on the song he’s been working on.
It's going to be a hit. Yoongi can already tell.
Namjoon is carefully watching Yoongi while he listens. It makes Yoongi’s face feel hot. He doesn’t particularly like being watched. Namjoon watching him specifically makes him feel overly aware of himself. It's like Namjoon is taking note of everything his face does as he listens.
When it's done, they sit in silence for a moment. Namjoon is the first to talk. “Well?” He says it quietly, cautiously.
“That’s really, really good, Namjoon. You’re very talented.”
“Hyung, that means a lot coming from you. Thanks.” Namjoon is blushing again, hand rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “What did you think of this part in the second chorus? I feel like it’s missing something.” Namjoon fiddles with his mouse and keyboard for a moment, navigating to the correct part.
He’s playing it again, and Yoongi has thoughts. Of course it's great, but he can feel that it is missing something, just as Namjoon had said. Namjoon wants his input?
Yoongi has been at the company long enough that his peers, people who have worked with him for years, respect and seek his opinion. But coworkers that aren’t close to his age, those much older than him and young hot shots just joining the company, often gave him a hard time, act as if his opinion has less value. Especially new, young, proud alphas.
“You want my opinion?”
Namjoon looks slightly surprised by the question. “Yes, of course. More than anything.”
“The melody’s good,” Yoongi says. “Too clean, maybe.”
Namjoon blinks. “Too clean?”
“Layer another vocal underneath it. Something rougher. Not loud enough to notice right away, just enough to make it feel fuller.”
Namjoon considers it for a second. Then he’s nodding, typing quickly on his keyboard, clicking through files and samples. “Yeah, you’re right. Hyung, you’re a genius.”
Yoongi doesn’t stop to examine why he feels so warm when Namjoon compliments him.
“Yes, that’s what they say. Genius lab and all that.”
Namjoon smiles at him briefly before turning back to his computer. “Didn’t you name your own studio the genius lab?”
Yoongi’s face is on fire at this point. “Well, uh, yeah. I did.”
“It’s true, though. You are a genius. You’re the reason I got into music production.”
That makes Yoongi freeze, eyes wide. Namjoon must notice that Yoongi is surprised because next he says, “I listened to Static every day during my last year of highschool.”
Static? Static? Yoongi had put out that mixtape with very minimal press, years ago, long before what must have been Namjoon’s last year of high school. It hadn’t been for anyone but himself, and it was far from his most popular release.
“Really? Why Static?”
Namjoon pauses what he was doing, begins listing all the things he enjoys about the mixtape, uses his hands a lot as he talks animatedly about the gritty underground vibes, the emotional vulnerability, the experimental production.
No one has ever talked to him about his music like this before. His friends all compliment him of course, and his colleagues respect him to some extent, but no one has ever understood his music to this level, both personally and technically.
It's overwhelming.
Too overwhelming.
Namjoon is still talking when Yoongi stands suddenly. He pauses, confused. “Is everything- are you okay, hyung?”
Yoongi scrambles away from the seat, towards the door. “Yes, I’m fine,” he lies. “I just- I forgot I have a meeting and I’m going to be late. Goodbye.”
He shuts the door of the studio before Namjooon has a chance to say anything else, and he flees to his own studio, closing and locking the door behind him, laying face down on his couch, breathing heavily. He thinks he may be hyperventilating.
What the fuck? What the actual fucking fuck?
Yoongi does technically have a meeting later.
Several hours later.
Yoongi had taken his time to calm down, breathe and push the thoughts of Namjoon away, at least for the time being.
Park Jimin is in his studio, there to listen to the cleaned up version of his release and grant his approval.
Jimin is a beautiful person. Ethereal, really. Voted the most influential omega by Time Magazine three years running, not to mention being a genuinely kind person and good friend of Yoongi’s.
They had met years before, when Jimin was a trainee, and Yoongi was newer to producing independently at the company. Jimin had kicked up a fuss, demanding to work with an omega producer. Even then he had understood that he had a chance to be a representative of omegas, that he had the opportunity to lift other omegas as he rose to the top. And Yoongi was lucky to be one of those omegas.
Now Jimin only worked with omega producers, writers, and choreographers. He was truly omega of the year.
An omega of the year who was currently laying on Yoongi’s couch, head hanging off the seat and legs kicked up in the air. He’d approved the song without even listening to it, and when Yoongi insisted he listen to it he had done so only to humor him before giving his approval anyway. And now he was sprawled across Yoongi’s couch, scrolling on his phone while he complained dramatically.
“And when I told them I wasn’t going to get in a car alone with the alpha driver, do you know what they did? They laughed. At me! They said I was being ridiculous.” He looks up from his phone to Yoongi. “Can you believe it?”
“Unfortunately I can. I fucking hate alphas.”
“You can say that again.” Jimin finally pauses his ranting long enough to squint at Yoongi. “Wait. What the hell happened to your face?”
Yoongi groans immediately.
Jimin sits upright slowly. “Why are you reacting like that?”
“Because it involved a stupid alpha.”
Jimin gasps dramatically, “Tell me everything.”
Yoongi does. He explains his broken nose, the hospital, the hoodie. He leaves out what had just happened in Namjoon’s studio. He’s not sure he’s ready to dissect that.
“Wait, Kim Namjoon? Isn’t he like, nineteen years old?”
“Twenty-one,” Yoongi immediately corrects. Shit, that was not very casual of him. “I mean, yes he’s young.”
Jimin stares at Yoongi for a long moment.
Yoongi feels self-conscious. “What?”
“You know his exact age.”
“So? I know your exact age, too.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do, you’re twenty-seven.”
“Hyung, I’m twenty-nine.”
Yoongi feels like he’s been caught, the police spotlight has been trained on him and someone is shouting for him to come out with his hands up. “Oh.”
Jimin nods at him. “Yeah. Oh.”
Yoongi isn’t sure what to do with that. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to acknowledge it.
“Wait.” Jimin is sitting up fully now, looking at Yoongi as if he’s calculating something.
“What?”
“I think Kim Namjoon likes you.”
“What? No, of course he doesn’t” Not even Yoongi thinks he sounds convincing. Jimin looks at him, unamused.
“And do you want to know something else?”
Yoongi thinks that he really does not, but Jimin continues before he can say that.
“Every time you talk about Namjoon, you say he’s a dumb kid or a stupid alpha. But you look so fond when you do it.”
Yoongi goes still. How is Jimin so adept at exposing him like this? He feels like he is standing in front of the entire school in his underwear. “What are you even talking about? We are just coworkers.”
“Why don’t you think he likes you?”
Yoongi looks anywhere but at Jimin’s face, but he doesn’t have to reach far to explain his reasoning. “He’s a kid. I’m thirty-five. It doesn’t make sense for him to like me. There is nothing about me to like.”
Jimin looks sad now. “Do you really believe that, Yoongi-hyung?”
Yoongi looks down at his hands and he doesn’t respond, which seems to be an answer in itself.
A moment later, Jimin’s small hand comes to rest on top of Yoongi’s in his lap.
“Hyung, I’m not going to get into all the reasons I think you’re wrong, and you are wrong, because nothing I say will convince you. All I’ll say is this. You don’t have to like Namjoon back. You don’t even have to accept that he likes you, though I would say that he is clearly trying to show he is interested in you.” Yoongi looks up at Jimin, who is so sincere it makes Yoongi want to cry.
“But can you please accept that you are deserving of happiness. Of being loved. Of loving and being loved?”
Yoongi looks away and now he actually is crying. Jimin lightly squeezes his hand.