a daydream away - namkook

02

length: 1.2K words.
cw: alcohol.
—

Jungkook was eighteen when he discovered seasonal affective disorder. Although he never got diagnosed by a professional, he felt like he had it. He never boasted about it or mentioned it to anyone, and he had never even bothered to look up ways to cope with it, really, but he knew about its existence and that was all that mattered.

Seasonal affective disorder.

It was just... there. And knowing that it was there kind of gave Jungkook a sense of comfort; a reminder that yes, things got really fucking shitty around this time every year but it wasn't really his own fault and that well, yes, it would go on for a few months, but then things would get better and go back to normal — so for now, while it lasted, it was okay to blame this disorder for his fuck-ups.

He wasn't fucked up — he just occasionally fucked up, and his fuck-up rate increased a lot during this time.

So yes. It wasn't really his fault. It was the disorder's fault. It was this fucking disorder's fault that he was sitting on the cold tiled floor, on the verge of tears, rambling about his feelings. About how lonely he was. To Kim Namjoon.

"Wow," Jungkook snapped, rubbing his face with his hands. "My eyes. I'm crying. Un-fuckin-believable, huh?"

Namjoon sniffed and nodded silently, taking another swig from his beer. He looked a little out of it. He's really flushed in the face, Jungkook thought to himself. Hair messy, eyes glassy, lips glossy. God, he just looked really, really cute. Jungkook wanted to die right then and there because how dare Namjoon look so pretty and so flushed when he was too fucking drunk to even speak properly?

"'S okay," Namjoon slurred after a while. Jungkook snatched the bottle and took a large swig. Pursing his lips, he pushed the nearly-empty bottle back into Namjoon's hands. Disgusting. Beer was disgusting.

"It's not," he sighed. Then, "Hyung, can I tell you a secret?"

"I love 'em," Namjoon said, and then he yawned.

And beer may taste like shit but it's certainly liquid courage if you drink just enough. "I love you," he exhaled, closing his eyes, the image of Namjoon scrunching his nose when he yawned burning at the backs of his eyelids.

Namjoon made a cooing sound — Maybe. Was it a coo?

"No, I like, like — love love you. Like. Gay love you," Jungkook huffed, "a lot. Okay, that's too soon to say this but like, hyung I just — fuck. I don't know."

Namjoon hummed. Jungkook kept his eyes shut.

"Remember when we first met? I wasn't even into music that much back then, I just enjoyed singing but I pretended I wanted to learn how to produce and write lyrics and shit because I wanted to spend time with you and I think Yoongi hyung knew — knows? 'Cause he'd make a big deal out of me contans- constantly delayin' his piano lessons and — uh, yeah."

Namjoon made another sound of acknowledgement.

"I was really shy but... I grew used to it, to being around you and acting natural and stuff and just, dealing with my crush became easier and I hoped it'd fade away but it never did and I just, Joonie, you're so sweet and so kind and so, so good—"

"Hmm."

"And it just. Got hard. And stopped being just a crush. Like that night at the restaurant when we were spying on Tae 'n Jimin 'n Yoongi, remember? We were in the bushes 'n it was really fucking cold but we were laughing 'n then you were just — there. And it was dark but there was moonlight and you were there. And you looked so pretty and I wanted to kiss you so, so bad and it kinda hit me back then that I..."

Jungkook trailed off, covering his face with his hands.

"That I just. Wanted to keep living in that moment. Us alone, in the dark, in the motherfuckin' moonlight, a little chilly, laughing, and just — happy. And together. And then I realised that any kind of, um, moment, in any place would be good with you. Even if it was in the sun and it was hot and things were shit, it'd still be a good moment if you were there by my side."

Jungkook sighed, opening his eyes but keeping them firmly on the his own thighs. "Say something."

Namjoon stayed silent. Jungkook suddenly felt sober.

"We don't— it's okay if you don't feel the same; I just wanted to let it out. I'm sorry."

Namjoon remained silent.

"Hyung, say something. Anything, please. Fuck, I'm," Jungkook choked out, covering his face with his hands again. "I fucked up. I understand if you're uncomfortable right now, hyung, I'm so fuckin' sorry, I—"

Namjoon... snored?

"Hyung?" Jungkook looked up and. Oh.

"Oh."

With a shaky breath, Jungkook ran a hand through his hair before standing up. His knees wobbled, he was dizzy, and he felt too far from the floor, yet despite everything, Jungkook leaned down and tried to drag a sleeping Namjoon.

He failed.

Maybe they could just spend the night there. On the bathroom floor.

With a deep breath, Jungkook dismissed the idea, leaned down again, and concentrated all the energy he had on lifting Namjoon's heavy, gangly, heavy body up. He succeeded. Fuck yeah. He couldn't wait to flex later.

With Namjoon hanging over his right shoulder, Jungkook stumbled to the bedroom, hit his elbow against a chair, let out a sound that sounded questionably similar to a seal's, and dropped Namjoon on the bed.

It was dark but through the guidance of the moonlight slipping through the window, Jungkook managed to take off Namjoon's shoes, pulled the sheets from underneath him and covered him up with them. Jungkook slipped off his shoes, stood there, rubbing his eyes and yawning, and after a few seconds of hesitation, climbed into the bed next to Namjoon.

He could throw an arm across Namjoon's waist. Or bury his head in Namjoon's neck. Or do both. Or maybe he could just hold his hand. The possibilities were endless and there were hundreds of excuses — they were drunk, it was cold, Namjoon definitely did it first, bla bla bla.

But here's the thing: Jungkook didn't really need an excuse. He never did, not when it came to Namjoon — Namjoon, who was always content around him, always proud of him, always happy to indulge him without any excuses, any reasons, any real motives.

And here's the other thing: Jungkook didn't trust himself.

Because he knew that if he held Namjoon's hand, then he wouldn't let go in the morning. And if he buried his head in Namjoon's neck, then he'd wake him up with love-bites. And if he threw an arm around Namjoon's waist, then he would end up clinging to him like a fucking koala and wouldn't let go until Namjoon genuinely got irritated.

(Okay, not exactly. Jungkook would definitely not cross any boundaries and he would respect Namjoon's wishes and avoid doing anything that would make him uncomfortable. Jungkook was a Decent Man. Namjoon's decent man. Namjoon's good boy.)

So, yeah. Seasonal affective disorder. It was the reason Jungkook managed to fall asleep only after hours of thinking — cold and curled up, alone and lonely, even though Namjoon was right there, warm and pretty and so far away on the other side of his double bed.

Why the hell did Namjoon even have a double bed?

—

thoughts? :o