Found on archive of our own
Yoongi is drowning and Namjoon describes the water.
yoongi was safe, perfectly content on the shore when he met him. namjoon emerged into his life on a late afternoon that felt like books and distant chatter, in the local library. he, quite literally, knocked yoongi off his feet, sending his papers flying like feathers through the air and namjoon was all warm smiles and hushed apologies when he asked yoongi if he can make it up to him with a cup of coffee. it's not like yoongi could say no and when they were ushered out of the small store by a catty librarian's judgmental stare, yoongi felt the first ripples.
the water was deep and unforgiving, threatening to bite at yoongi's skin and fill his lungs, expand them until his ribcage broke but yoongi was content staring at its surface, smooth and glassy, no wind in sight. he was content right where he was, a lifetime away from the waves, with namjoon's number in his back pocket and fingers curling around the hard covers of his books, like a nervous schoolgirl. namjoon's dimples showed when he smiled and his jacket had shielded both of them when rain took them by surprise on their third date. namjoon had lead them both into a small passage, empty, to wait for the rain to pass. he had kissed yoongi there for the first time and yoongi could only grab at namjoon's shirt, keeping him in place and raindrops splattered all over yoongi's converse sneakers.
the distance between him and the mark licked by the waves expanded gradually as namjoon held his hand, watched movies with him, bought him lunch and said he loved him. a few weeks later, namjoon had left kisses down yoongi's back, his hands roaming yoongi's body and namjoon called him his, made him his. yoongi looked at him afterwards, sleeping soundly, on the bed next to him, and then namjoon was sitting with yoongi on the shore, and the water never looked so far away.
but there is a storm on the horizon as the waves roar, menacing and ominous, yoongi hasn't seen namjoon in over a week and all he gets is a curt text or a rushed, emotionless call. he tells himself he can do it, he doesn't need namjoon to survive but his pale fingers desperately try to grab onto the tan digits that should be intertwined with them, but are not. yoongi patiently waits.
namjoon unintentionally makes yoongi take a few steps forward, one late afternoon as he releases yoongi's hand, backing away from him as a person passes them and yoongi thinks it's suspicious how namjoon's arm is draped around his shoulders as soon as the boy in question rounds a corner.
he has enough distance, he assures himself, between the mass of water and himself but namjoon still won't return his calls and the words he says are no longer sincere and yoongi can feel their emptiness clank against his skull, like pebbles in a glass jar and yoongi wonders how long will it take until they shatter him.
the first few steps are the hardest, so it seems, but the rest of them are easy, yoongi muses, standing barely out of reach and pondering why exactly namjoon comes home late and why he smells like someone else. it hurts but the damp sand beneath yoongi's bare feet hurts more and yoongi remembers how he came to be here.
it's, unsurprisingly, namjoon who makes him lift up his right leg and walk straight into the water, one night when he breathes out "seokjin" instead of yoongi and yoongi wants to say that that's not his name but the cold water brings him more comfort and yoongi lets namjoon say seokjin over and over again as he fucks him.
the water's up to his knees right now, almost a year after they met in the library on that afternoon and yoongi's air no longer smells like books. now it smells like water, damp and sickening and it leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth as he inhales deeply; namjoon has hickeys yoongi doesn't remember leaving and that isn't the only leaving yoongi's thinking of but the water is so calm and yoongi almost enjoys all this.
namjoon manages to pour buckets, adding more and more water to yoongi's ocean until yoongi's sure it'll overfill and drag namjoon to the bottom too, but it continues expanding until yoongi's world is dripping all around him.
his hips are now submerged and yoongi has no recollection of how this happened, his memories are a hazy blur of him sleeping alone and distracted kisses and he knows namjoon's aware that it's a public secret but yoongi favors playing dumb. he was never a good swimmer.
they never fought, though, and namjoon's words cut like steel, burn like fire, precise and most likely true and he says yoongi will never be seokjin and yoongi agrees. he can't do much but the way he's floating on the surface mutes the insults hurled his way and he's still floating, even when namjoon comes back to him later that night, apologies whispered against his lips and yoongi learns how to make love without love itself.
there is a ring on his fourth finger and it's pulling him down. namjoon's not even on the shore anymore, yoongi supposes waiting by the water for over two years must have been arduous and yoongi really doesn't blame him. he blames himself and the fact he's not seokjin, because even though he doesn't know him, he's sure seokjin can swim. yoongi's still barely floating.
namjoon's still adding the water, maybe subconsciously but yoongi has trouble keeping his head above. he's tired and it's exhausting and he thinks sinking might not be that bad but then he's namjoon's and namjoon is his, at least for the ceremony and yoongi ponders swimming back to shore, however namjoon keeps checking his phone when he thinks yoongi isn't watching and yoongi decides he's good where he floats, motionlessly.
his husband hasn't been home for four and a half days and yoongi's sort of done making his side of the bed too, breakfasts eaten in silence and tears spilled late at night. it's not the first time this has happened but then yoongi's knocking over the lamp on namjoon's desk and he finds a ring, identical to the one on his finger, discarded among the pens and crumpled paper. yoongi's head goes below surface for a moment.
namjoon doesn't come home for the rest of the day. yoongi sits around, both rings in his hand, fingers curled tightly around them and he waits.
he gives up eventually, around three am.
yoongi turns on the tap in their bathroom, both the one in the tub and the one over the sink and locks the door. namjoon comes back home just as the last gulps of air leave yoongi's lungs.
yoongi sinks.
