Collision

Chapter 1

"Is that everything?"

Yoongi drums his dull nails against the oakwood table, the succulent scent of his coffee tantalizing as the line crackles. The bright silver color of Namjoon's hair glints from over the screen of his computer, where Yoongi was Face Timing Namjoon.

There was a time when the color was so bright, Yoongi wouldn't even glance in his direction. He had joked that it was brighter than a lighthouse, and Namjoon had yet to let it go.

"Yeah, think so," Namjoon answers.

The sound of papers rustling pricked at Yoongi's ears, and he could imagine the seriousness that caused Namjoon's eyes to squint behind his lenses, and the tip of his tongue to poke out of his cheek.

"Alright," Yoongi murmurs, patting the table until the tips of his fingers touched the warm ceramic of his coffee mug. He took a long sip. "Don't forget to email me the letters, and an attachment of the vocalists."

"I won't, hyung," Namjoon replies, the paper going quiet as the atmosphere fades from work to personal. "How have you been? The mountains still peaceful?"

Yoongi hums. "Until someone's boyfriend decides to barge in, raving about food and health and ramen being a disgrace to Korean culture when Koreans have this amazing thing called Kimchi stew."

Namjoon laughs, the sound achingly familiar that something in Yoongi's chest tightens. His laugh was just like Namjoon- calming and lilting, loud enough that it made itself known, but quiet enough that you want to lean in to listen.

"Jin isn't wrong, hyung," Namjoon wheezes between laughs, "and besides, I tried to tell him to call first before barging in, but he doesn't listen."

Yoongi snorted. The idea of Kim Seokjin listening to what anyone had to say would be a miracle in itself. He may be one of the top Korean models, but whenever his label said don't do that, Seokjin will just laugh and then proceed to do just that.

It was the Kim Seokjin law, as Yoongi had dubbed it many years ago. If there was something you wanted Kim Seokjin to do, then tell him not to do it, and like magic it will be done.

It was a shame his boyfriend had yet to figure that one out, though.

"Yes, well," Yoongi drawls tiredly, "do tell him that I have enough food to last me for, say, eternity, and to never show up again."

Namjoon chuckles, the sound warm and low. "I'll try, but you know how he gets. Once he is on a mission, he is on a mission."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "You're telling me. The way that man talks makes it seem as if I am dying or something. I live on a mountain, not hell."

"In his eyes, that sounds one and the same," Namjoon retorted, amusement thick within his smooth voice. Yoongi huffs, but mentally agrees with the younger man. "Either way, I do worry about you. Just like Jin does."

Something lodged in Yoongi's throat. It was thick, heavy, and laden with something that he didn't want to touch with a ten-foot-pole. Inhaling sharply, Yoongi swallowed the lump with a long swing of his coffee, letting the bitter heat chase away the bad taste in his mouth.

"You don't have to worry," he finally managed to squeeze out through his tight vocal cords. "I'm fine."

Namjoon was quiet. The only sound that could be heard was his breathing, even and slow, and oh-so-familiar. Yoongi wondered if he was trying to figure out a way to argue or to find a different subject.

Yoongi doesn't give him a chance. "Do me a favor though and send me more books." He paused, then clicked his tongue. "And it better not be any Twilight bullshit, or even anything close to teenage angst and sobbing over boys."