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"Alright, and this is how you light the lighter." Yoongi enunciates every word slowly, staring at Namjoon to make sure he understands.
Namjoon rolls his eyes. "Yes, hyung, it's not the first time I've smoked."
By Yoongi’s reckoning, it's been at least a year since he and Namjoon have smoked together, the last time probably being when they were in LA for tour the prior summer. So yes, while they have smoked together, Yoongi is wary of Namjoon's ability to light a joint without also setting their hotel room on fire.
Really, it's a miracle that he and Namjoon have the room to themselves for the evening. It’s a rare free night in their hectic tour schedule, and the other members, in their infinite energy, had decided to spend it exploring the Los Angeles club scene. Yoongi had honestly been surprised that Namjoon decided to stay back and spend the evening with him, as Namjoon is usually eager to let loose on their few free nights. He has an easier time in the States then the rest of them, as the only fluent English speaker, but Yoongi knows how exhausted he gets from the constant need to perform. The added pressure of being their leader, the one whose words can most easily get placed under a microscope, weighs on him sometimes. If staying back at the hotel for the evening, lighting up their once-yearly LA weed, is how Namjoon wants to spend his evening, then Yoongi is happy to oblige him.
He tries not to entertain the thought that perhaps Namjoon is staying back to spend time with him.
Namjoon is their leader, but Yoongi still finds ways to care for him. It’s a lot of pressure on them both, the way the younger members rely on them. Even Jin and Hoseok sometimes need someone to fall back on, and in a lot of ways that responsibility rests on Namjoon and Yoongi. Jungkook once said that if Namjoon leads from the front, Yoongi leads from the back. And though he has never wanted the type of responsibility Namjoon has, Yoongi sees the way those words need to ring true.
There’s an adage about opposites attracting, or something about two parts of the same whole. Yoongi can’t imagine someone who better fits that role in his life than Namjoon. His hold-over best friend from the dorms. A former rival, loyal to each other to a fault. Co-writers. Co-conspirators. Going out to bars, or staying in to smoke and rest. It's always been Namjoon and Yoongi.
Namjoon is like that, Yoongi supposes. Fiercely empathetic, sometimes ignorant, sure, but always learning from his mistakes. If such a thing as a soulmate exists, Yoongi can't imagine someone better suited in this world to spend his life with than Namjoon.
And he's cute, Yoongi reckons.
Beautiful.
But certainly Yoongi would never willingly admit any of this to Namjoon. Another staple of their long friendship is their mutual ability to talk about everything, from lyrics to schedules to what to eat, yet somehow avoid anything substantive if it means they can escape peeling back a layer and exposing their vulnerability. It's the product of their mutual awkwardness, Yoongi is certain, along with a healthy dose of stubbornness.
Anyway, this cocktail of years of repressed feelings has led them here now, Yoongi lighting up a joint in their hotel suite, then passing it to Namjoon. Both of them pointedly avoid making eye contact, even as Yoongi is sure Namjoon will still find a way to drop the lit joint and burn the couch, somehow.
If Yoongi was less of a coward, maybe he would tell Namjoon how he feels. "Namjoon-ah, I really admire your ability to analyze ancient philosophy texts," he could say. Or, alternately, "I could write poetry about your dimples." Somehow, though, neither sentence quite captures what it is, exactly, that Yoongi wishes he could convey to Namjoon. He thinks that really, there are no words that could convey the exact feelings of appreciation, of admiration. Sometimes, he thinks, it is safer to say nothing, and let his actions speak for him.
"Let me help you light that." Yoongi leans across the couch to where Namjoon is trying, and--no surprise-- failing, to use the lighter. He shuffles on his knees to where Namjoon is seated. Initially, Namjoon acts like he isn't listening and finally, once Yoongi forcefully plucks the lighter out of his hand, blushes and stares down at the floor.
Yoongi wants to help relight the joint, but Namjoon is making it near-impossible. He's fidgeting, and Yoongi can tell he's getting stoned already. Yoongi reaches out a hand and places it on Namjoon's shoulder to stabilize him. "You still doing ok?" Namjoon finally looks him in the eyes, and he can see the way they look ever so slightly puffier, redder.
Namjoon smiles dopily. "Yes hyung, feels great." He blushes again, and returns his gaze to the floor. So much for that.
Yoongi lights the joint again, but makes sure to keep a closer eye on how much Namjoon is smoking, himself taking probably three hits for each one of Namjoon's.
They settle in after that. Yoongi puts on music, some moody hip-hop album, and they sit mostly in silence. Yoongi loves the way that smoking calms him, quells some of his anxiety, his overthinking. Even Namjoon, more of a notorious over-thinker than Yoongi, seems to be enjoying himself as he bobs his head and mouths along with the lyrics.
This is it, Yoongi thinks. This is what their relationship is founded on. Shared interests. Peace and quiet. He's grateful he has someone like Namjoon in his life in any capacity, even if this isn't the only side of Namjoon he wishes he could see. This is a start, and for this quiet moment, it's enough for him.
Namjoon breaks the silence first. "Finished the joint. My tongue feels heavy."
Yoongi bends forward, laugh feeling like it's ripping from his mouth in slow-motion. Namjoon starts laughing too, a high, giggly thing for someone so big.
He leans into Yoongi, long limbs curling over Yoongi's smaller frame. Yoongi feels his skin heat up at each point of contact. His arms feel limp underneath Namjoon's dead weight, but he doesn't want to move, would rather savor the rare physical contact between them.
Namjoon stays lying half on top of Yoongi on the couch, moving only his hands to dab at his eyes.
Yoongi looks at him fondly. He would never admit he's in love, would never say so in those words, but looking at Namjoon's swollen, watery eyes, his giant smile, his dimples, the way he manages to look so small curled up against him, has Yoongi wanting to.
"Hyung," Namjoon whispers, "You know the Ginsberg line, 'First thought, best thought?'"
Yoongi doesn't, thinks Ginsberg is the exact type of pretentious that he hates but Namjoon naturally loves. But he'll indulge Namjoon this once, any time.
At Yoongi's silence, Namjoon continues, "What are you thinking right now?"
Yoongi closes his eyes and takes inventory. He's stoned, yes, but he's come down a bit since they finished the joint, and mostly he just feels light, good, like all the sharp edges in his head have softened. Like there's a cushion to his thoughts. A plush couch. The warmth from a best friend.
"I'm thinking about why we never talk, not like this."
The words leave him as a mush, but he unscrambles them quickly. He hopes he isn't overstepping, but Namjoon simply cuddles his face into Yoongi's neck.
Yoongi feels the warm breath of Namjoon's response more than he hears it. "I've always respected you, hyung."
Respect, like a silent code. Awkward. Stubborn. Let hyung do this. Hyung needs your help. Soulmates.
Yoongi reaches down, runs a hand through Namjoon's bleached locks. Runs his thumb across the stubble along his jaw, across the soft plane of his lower lip. The kiss that follows is short, sweet, to the point. A culmination of ten years of unspoken words. A brief glimpse below both of their practiced, unaffected veneers. A stolen, stoned moment. They kiss again, and all Yoongi can think about is how sweet it is. How overdue.
Namjoon stares up at him with those glossy eyes. Yoongi strokes his cheek, whispering, "And I guess you want me to ask what you're thinking about then?" He's so fond.
Namjoon smiles again, and he’s glowing, slow in his current state, eyes squeezing shut, wrinkles pressing at the edges. "Hyung." It's breathless. Instead of speaking, he reaches for the waistband of Yoongi's sweats. Yoongi nods in silent permission, and it feels like heaven when Namjoon takes Yoongi in his hand. Long overdue for a companionship like theirs. Namjoon makes quick work of it, as if it could be slow. There's nine years of pent-up feelings there, and he spills fast under Namjoon’s grip.
Yoongi returns the favor, gladly. Only after Namjoon has laughed and pushed his hand away, though, not really meaning it, but needing to do it anyway. But Yoongi wants to care for him. Namjoon's the leader, but it's his night off.
Afterward, they stay cuddled up on the hotel couch. It's warm, with Namjoon's bodyweight still pressing on him. They're sticky, and Yoongi feels overheated and suddenly too sober. He finally pushes Namjoon off to grab a damp towel and materials to roll another joint. When he gets back, Namjoon is softly dozing, long limbs splayed everywhere, mouth laying open. He looks soft like this, Yoongi thinks. At-ease. A rarity these days.
Yoongi lets Namjoon sleep, rolling the second joint and taking a hit. They'll talk in the morning, as they do. Yoongi is happy for the moment to just be near Namjoon. No awkwardness, no stubbornness, no rivalry, no pretense.
Yoongi doesn't know how to tell Namjoon in words how he feels, but he hopes his actions speak loudly enough. Until then, he'll keep trying, for Namjoon's love. For his respect.