state of existence
seokjin/namjoon, pg-13, 591w
namjoon is, seokjin is.
crossposted to ao3
beta'd by the amazing nightbrights
namjoon is brash.
he is recklessness condensed into a lanky body, prone to faulty foot placements and objects slipping through his fingers as he holds them too loose, and the definitive sound of cracks as he holds them too tight. hyung, why are you so clumsy? jungkook asks as namjoon picks up the pieces of what remains of a vase now broken and scattered around him. namjoon cuts himself on a jagged edge and wonders the same thing.
seokjin is graceful.
he is sure movements and elegance walking as he hums an iu song under his breath, limbs moving in artistic motion as he prepares food for the boys the fourth night in a row. seokjin catches namjoon staring and shoots him a delicate smile, and namjoon dreams of paper collarbones and crystal flowers that night.
namjoon is loud.
he is a booming voice in a room of quiet boys, weary looks thrown his way as he manages to wake three of them from their long-awaited and short lived naps between hectic schedules. namjoon tries to joke his embarrassment away, but five glares of unamusement turns him back to his phone and he misses the sixth look of endearment.
seokjin is calm.
he is comforting words and encouraging gazes, a soothing balm in the pain of what was their chaotic idol life. namjoon looks at seokjin’s hands, wiping away a stray tear from jimin’s cheek and holding him around the shoulder, and he wonders how many tears seokjin has wiped previous and how many shoulders he’s held. namjoon makes himself look away and tries to accept that he’ll never master the art of consoling.
namjoon is overdoing.
he is fatigue at three in the morning, exhaustion dripping down his bones as he scribbles away lyrics on papers strewn around him, numerous in amount yet none of them enough. he writes lines upon lines, the scratches and crossed out words glaring at him like the things he hasn’t done right, can’t do right, won’t do right. he crumples yet another leaf from his notebook and studies the wrinkles in the page like his heart.
seokjin is nurturing.
he is waiting up for namjoon as he slips in their dorm at five in the morning, blinking sleep from his eyes and slipping his arms around him. you worked hard today, seokjin mutters into the junction of his shoulder and his neck, and namjoon feels the heat crawling up the back of his neck before he feels seokjin’s lips against his.
seokjin is beauty.
he is long fluttering lashes and soft rosy lips as namjoon presses him deeper into the mattress, mouth latched to his clavicle and hands roaming the expanse of seokjin’s torso, his chest, his stomach, his navel. seokjin muffles a moan into his fist and tugs harder on the short hair above the nape of namjoon’s neck, their hips moving together in slow, languid motions.
seokjin is love.
he is droopy eyes and affectionate gazes as namjoon watches a bead of sweat roll down seokjin’s forehead. you are amazing, seokjin mutters softly, and namjoon almost doesn’t catch it. am i? namjoon lets slip before he can stop himself, but seokjin wraps his arms around him and presses himself into namjoon. you are, he mumbles into his chest, and namjoon doesn’t fight the blush this time as it spreads itself like liquid warmth from his beating heart throughout his entire body. and so much more, seokjin whispers again before drifting off, and namjoon lets himself believe it for one more night.