The Rich Man's Crochet Club

Chapter 4

It is half-past nine when Namjoon trudges up the steps to Yoongi's place. He assumes everyone will be late, as they usually are, so he is thoroughly surprised to find he is the last to arrive.

"You're late," huffs Taehyung, swinging open the door.

Stepping past, Namjoon shrugs free of his jacket to drape over the counter. The night is brisk, a subtle warning of winter in the air they all pointedly ignore. When Namjoon enters the living room, Jimin waves from the couch.

"Hey, Joon!" he calls, already holding a cup.

He is beaming – of course he is, since Jimin is no longer The Last. The pressure is off Jimin now; no matter what, he has a girl to go home to. Unlike Namjoon, for whom the coming night can only bring anxiety and fear.

Most of the spots in the room are already taken; Jungkook and Jimin sit on the sofa, with Hoseok perched precariously on the same furniture's armrest. Yoongi slouches against the wall, arguing with Hoseok about something or other. Seokjin is at the stereo, fiddling with what sounds like a '00's R&B playlist and Taehyung walks before Namjoon, settling down on the floor.

"Finally!" Seokjin crows, looking up. "We've been waiting for, like, ever. Welcome to this emergency session of the Club."

Paused in the doorway, Namjoon scans the room. The only available seating is beside Taehyung, so this is where Namjoon lowers himself to the ground. Taehyung is already pouring himself a vodka – Namjoon winces at the Skol handle, knowing it promises a horrible hangover.

"Guys," Namjoon exhales, accepting the cup Taehyung hands him. "We don't have to do any of this. We can just get drunk per usual and carry on with our night."

"No, no, no," says Seokjin, wagging a finger. "I saw the look in your eyes earlier, man. You're fucking desperate to get laid and we – your friends – are here to help."

"Right!" cheers Hoseok, whose ears have already turned red.

"Right," agrees Seokjin, walking closer. "We started this club together and," he bends to clap Namjoon on the shoulder, "we end this together."

Namjoon stares. "That seems entirely inappropriate, given the context."

"Is that what you say to girls?" Jungkook tosses back the shot in his cup, pushing a hand through his hair. "No wonder they're not fucking you if you keep calling their advances 'inappropriate, given the context.'"

"That's not what I say to girls," Namjoon mutters, glaring. "That's what I say to you, butting in on my personal life."

Seated beside Jungkook, Jimin furrows his brow. "Do you not want our help, Joon?"

The room looks expectantly at Namjoon. Even Jungkook is silent, and Namjoon's cheeks start to heat under the weight of their stares. Honestly, Namjoon knows his friends only want to help. He agreed to this earlier because yeah, Namjoon would love to stop feeling like an outsider. It is true that sex is not everything and he should wait for the right moment.

But fuck, what if there is no right moment? Namjoon cannot help but wonder what he misses out on while waiting for some shining paradigm which can never come true. Namjoon is tired of feeling like this, and so he raises his nasty cup of Skol vodka.

"Fuck it," he groans, tipping back his cup. "I'm in."

"Woo-hoo!" cheers Taehyung, following suit. The others laugh, joining in and the bottle of vodka makes a second round of the cups.

Yoongi enters holding a giant, lined notepad – the kind you might find in a classroom, or at the front of a motivational speech. Namjoon blinks when Yoongi props this onto a stool, not having realized his friend even disappeared.