BTS Fic: Beat Change
May. 2nd, 2022 07:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat_lair***
Title: Beat Change
Author:kat_lair / Mistress Kat
Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Pairing: Kim Namjoon | RM/Park Jimin
Tags: Feelings, Dancing, Oblivious Kim Namjoon (I'm delighted btw that this is an existing tag)
Rating: T
Word count: 3,846
Disclaimer: Very not true
Summary:
"Hyung," Jimin says again. "I need a favour."
Namjoon softens. "Of course," he says, against his best judgement. "What is it?"
"Come watch my dance practice later?"
Namjoon blinks. This was so low on the list of possible requests that he hadn't even seen it coming. "Why?" He's genuinely puzzled. They've all watched each other practice enough for it to become something of a non-event.
"I'm working on something new," Jimin says, his smile small. The strands of his hair tickle the side of Namjoon's face. "I need a second opinion." Namjoon frowns, confused.
[spoiler: Namjoon figures it out in the end]
Author notes: This was written foradelate's prompt which was literally just the pairing and my brain went 'what, I don't even really care about that pairing, how would they OH WAIT I KNOW' and then this. Thanks to dreamersdare and adelate for making it readable.
Beat Change on AO3
The first time Jimin asks him to come watch his dance practice, Namjoon says an easy but distracted yes. There are a lot of plates spinning at the moment and he's already fielded approximately one million (only a slight exaggeration) phone calls that day. Jimin comes over and tugs on his sleeve for attention in the brief lull between calls, and then when that doesn't work, drapes himself over Namjoon's shoulder where he’s sitting, and forcibly pushes himself into his field of vision.
"Hyung," he says, face suddenly way too close to Namjoon's.
Namjoon jerks back but then feels guilty about it because it's not Jimin's fault Namjoon has a problem with his proximity and they end up in a weird tangled position, the chair tilted back precariously and Jimin balancing on one foot. Somewhere behind them Jungkook cackles and there's a tell-tale click of a camera. Dammit.
"Hyung," Jimin says again. "I need a favour."
Namjoon softens. "Of course," he says, against his best judgement. "What is it?"
"Come watch my dance practice later?"
Namjoon blinks. This was so low on the list of possible requests that he hadn't even seen it coming. "Why?" He's genuinely puzzled. They've all watched each other practice enough for it to become something of a non-event.
"I'm working on something new," Jimin says, his smile small. The strands of his hair tickle the side of Namjoon's face. "I need a second opinion." Namjoon frowns, confused. Wouldn't Hoseok...
His phone rings. "Okay," he says, already thumbing it to answer.
Jimin's smile turns blinding and then he disappears. The chair thumps back to the ground and Namjoon has to apologise to the caller for the embarrassing screech of surprise he makes.
Later comes quickly, but by then Namjoon has been called into a meeting at the label and it's not the kind of thing he can bow out of. Certainly not for a reason like this. As compelling he finds Jimin's dancing, just the image of Bang PD-nim's face if he tried to offer it as an excuse to postpone a meeting is enough to make him wince. He made a promise, and he feels sorry about breaking it, but the truth is that Namjoon has no useful opinions to offer about dancing so it's not like Jimin is going to be missing out.
He tracks Hoseok down in the fifteen minutes before he has to leave and explains the situation.
Hoseok's face scrunches in confusion. "Jimin is working on something new?" he asks in a way that makes it obvious that this is news to him. "And he wanted you to see it?" 'Instead of me?' is silent but very much implied.
Namjoon shrugs, equally baffled. Have the two of them fallen out over something? Has he been so distracted by the management demands that he's neglected to notice a conflict brewing between his group mates? Namjoon feels awful but he's also going to be late. "Look, just... you go. I'll catch up with you when I'm back. Okay?"
Hoseok nods, still looking sort of unhappy around the edges.
"Hoseok," Namjoon says, putting a little emphasis on his voice. "We'll talk when I'm back. Okay?"
"Yes," Hoseok says. "Yeah, Namjoon-ah. I'll... Talk to Jimin. And then you."
It'll have to do. Namjoon's phone is already lighting up, the driver letting him know they're waiting.
***
When Namjoon gets back it's past midnight. The TV in the lounge is on with the sound turned off and Jungkook and Taehyung are fast asleep in front of it, Seokjin sitting on the sofa scrolling through his phone.
"Hey," he says, voice pitched low as he leans back to catch Namjoon trying to tiptoe in. "There's food in the kitchen." He doesn't even bother to ask if Namjoon has eaten. He knows.
Namjoon nods a sheepish thanks, tilting his head toward the bedrooms. "Everyone in?"
"Yoongi's still at the studio."
Namjoon doesn't have a leg to stand on about that so he doesn't try. "You waiting up for him?"
"No," Seokjin lies and goes back to his phone.
Namjoon swings by the kitchen to get some food first but on the way to bed he slows outside Jimin and Hoseok's room. There's light under the door and he could knock and apologise but... He'll talk to them tomorrow.
***
"Everything is fine," Hoseok tells him the next morning. They're sharing a car to the studio largely because Hoseok had run him down and demanded a lift. "But you should go see Jimin's next practice."
It's early and Namjoon isn't even really awake yet so the two sentences don't quite compute. "But you're the dance expert," he says. "What can I possibly do for him that you couldn't, and better."
Hoseok snorts coffee out of his nose, coughing and wheezing through laughter, tears running down his face. "Oh god," he moans. "Oh god, Joon-ah that was the funniest thing you've ever said and you don't even know it." He flaps his hand and the driver silently passes Namjoon a pack of tissues. He pulls several out and tries to pat Hoseok's face dry but he's still laughing too hard. "And I can't even tell anyone. Yet. Oh god, this is torture," Hoseok groans between wet hiccups.
"I don't understand," Namjoon says. He's getting kind of annoyed about it now, on principle. There aren't a lot of things in the world he doesn't understand if he puts his mind to it. And reads a book or five about it. There probably isn't one for this.
"Just go watch the next time he's practicing." Hoseok pats him on the back pityingly. It doesn't help.
***
It is possibly solid advice but the problem is that Namjoon doesn't exactly know when Jimin is next working on this new project of his. They're all super busy for several days, including at dance practice, but it's all for group choreos. Jimin is, as usual, eminently watchable during those occasions but Namjoon has made it a personal policy to not let his eyes linger on him any longer than they do on anyone else. On the break Jimin and Jungkook get into some kind of competition over finding and then copying the most outrageous dance styles they can track down on Youtube and by the time they hit on something called Lambada from a couple of decades ago everyone is on the floor from laughter. Namjoon keeps his eyes firmly on the ridiculous face – “It’s passion!” “You look constipated.” – Jungkook is pulling and not on the slow roll of Jimin’s hips. Luckily, trying to stop Taehyung from filming the whole thing is distraction enough.
Afterwards, when everyone else is filing toward the changing rooms, Namjoon hangs back and catches Jimin by the simple effort of catching his eye and tilting his head slightly. He doesn’t even have to say anything, somehow Jimin just knows what he means, changing direction easily and waving the others off.
“What’s up?” he asks. The back of his loose shirt is dark with sweat and his hair is sticking up stiffly behind a dorky headband. He looks luminous.
Namjoon reminds himself of his position and puts on his best ‘concerned leader’ voice, the one he’s perfected over the years and that Yoongi makes merciless fun of.
“Is everything okay with you and Hobi?” he asks.
Jimin blinks a few times, genuinely thrown. Which is a good sign surely. “Me and…? Oh,” he says, eyes widening. “You thought we were like fighting or something?”
“Well…” Namjoon shrugs, uncomfortable. What else was he supposed to think? It had been a very logical conclusion.
Jimin’s laughter is loud, exploding out in an inelegant snort that seems to take even him by surprise. He claps a hand over his mouth and then another over his eyes until he’s chortling into his cupped palms in a way that doesn’t look entirely fun.
“Jimin-ah…?” Namjoon reaches out and rubs his back for lack of anything else to do. For some reason it feels like he should comfort, as if Jimin was crying rather than laughing.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Jimin says, wiping at his face. “Hobi-hyung and I are good, there’s nothing to worry about.” He shrugs Namjoon’s hand off, so casually that it almost seems accidental. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
Namjoon lets his arm fall down and bites down on the ‘you’re all mine to worry about’ speech, the one that tends to escape when he’s either very tired or very drunk. Instead he goes with Hoseok’s advice.
“I’m sorry for missing your dance practice when I said I would come.” He doesn’t offer an explanation. Jimin already knows. “Can we do a rain check?”
Jimin’s head jerks up in surprise. “You still want to?” he asks, and if Namjoon hadn’t been feeling shitty about the whole thing already, that would’ve sealed it.
“Yeah.” He nods vigorously, trying to broadcast sincerity. “Of course. I don’t know anything about dance, not like you do, but if you want my opinion, you’ll get it.”
Jimin’s watching him silently, almost… shyly. “Okay,” he says finally. “That would be… That would be good, hyung.”
***
Jimin sends him a message later that day with his schedule. There’s a space carved out in a week’s time that says ‘Jimin private dance studio booking’ and Namjoon meticulously adds it to his own calendar, setting up reminders and everything.
His phone dutifully alerts him about the event twenty-four hours before, then again that morning, and two hours before when Namjoon is in his studio, fully immersed in a new track. His phone also beeps an enthusiastic fifteen-minute warning at him when he’s fast asleep, slumped over the decks.
He wakes three hours later with a crick in his neck and a loud knocking at the door.
When he opens it, Jungkook all but falls on him with a relieved “Oh thank god, hyung! I thought you were dead!” Behind him, Taehyung and Hoseok are wearing identical looks of disappointment.
Shit, Namjoon thinks. Shit. There are five missed calls on his phone. None of them are from Jimin.
***
“No worries, hyung,” Jimin says when Namjoon tries to apologise. He smiles so wide and fake that Namjoon kind of wants to hit something. Mostly himself. “I know you’re busy and have more important things to do.”
Namjoon’s whole body flinches. “I’m…”
“It’s fine,” Jimin says. This time softer, his smile dropping to something more genuine. Somehow, it’s worse. “It’s fine. I understand.” Namjoon sure as hell doesn’t.
Jimin reaches out like he’s about to pat Namjoon on the arm or something but pulls back the last minute and instead runs an awkward hand over his hair, already slicked back and perfect for the photoshoot they are scheduled for. “I’m going to…” He nods toward the waiting crew and Namjoon watches him go, helpless.
“Are you going to fix this?” Yoongi asks in a low voice from somewhere behind him.
Namjoon doesn’t even startle. He just nods.
“Okay then,” Yoongi says and claps him on the shoulder.
Namjoon is going to fix this. He just doesn’t know how or even what this is.
***
Jimin doesn’t ask him to come watch his dance practice again.
Namjoon doesn’t even realise he’s waiting for an invitation until it fails to materialise. And as soon as he does, he feels like an idiot for doing so. Jimin asked twice and Namjoon let him down twice, he’s lucky Jimin is even speaking to him anymore.
Jimin is, in fact, acting entirely normally around Namjoon. There’s no cold shoulder, no pushing back on the direction Namjoon sets for them. Well, no more than usual. He may be the leader but this is a god damn democracy with all its messy imperfections and the day Namjoon’s decisions aren’t first improved with a cacophony of questions and suggestions is a day he hopes never comes.
Jimin joins in with the stupid jokes with the rest of maknaes, presses as readily into group hugs as before, and drapes himself over the others for a nap. Well, maybe not over Namjoon as often as before but that’s probably a coincidence, all in Namjoon’s head.
Everything is fine. Everything is as normal as it ever gets for them.
And yet Namjoon can’t shake the feeling of something not quite being as it should be. As it… could have been? It feels like something he missed, like an opportunity that he failed to even notice. It’s maddening, and itches at the back of his mind every time he sees Jimin, which is to say all damn day along.
In the end he figures it’s probably his broken promise that’s bothering him. Like a piece of coursework he hasn’t yet handed in except this doesn’t feel like an obligation. Nothing about any of them does. Nothing about Jimin does. Maybe like a gift he forgot to get for someone’s birthday?
Well, Namjoon hasn’t gotten to where he is now by waiting for invitations. He’s gone and walked himself through doors and the one to the dance studio 3, booked for Jimin that evening his shameless spying of shared calendars reveals, is no exception.
Namjoon times it to about thirty minutes after Jimin would’ve gotten there. That way, if the whole thing blows up in his face, he at least hasn’t stolen all of Jimin’s studio time. The door is unlocked and the lights are low when Namjoon sneaks in, feeling a little creepy but determined to make things right. The layout of the smaller studios are the same as the big ones; entry way branching in to a dressing room with one door leading to the en-suite, another to the dance studio itself.
That door is ajar and he can hear the music filtering through, something slow and almost melancholy but with a deep bass rhythm to it that hits hard. Carefully, Namjoon eases the door wider and himself through it.
The music is louder now but the lights are dimmed here as well, only the mirror end of the room illuminated, leaving Namjoon in the shadows.
Jimin is dancing.
This should not hit him in the way that it does, like a fist to the gut.
Maybe it’s something to do with the lighting, or the music, or the way the loose ends of his shirt flare when he turns. Maybe it’s the novelty of seeing Jimin dance purely for himself. He’s not performing or learning a choreography, or even trying to provoke a reaction from someone. Though he does. Because there is an audience, Jimin just doesn’t know it, and Namjoon really should make some kind of noise, to let him know that he’s there but…
The beat switches up, and something about Jimin’s movements becomes almost desperate, choppy and jagged where he’s usually all fluidity and clean lines. The angles of his body are sharp, but in a way a rusted knife can still cut, and it’s almost painful to watch.
The song slows back down to something almost yearning, a vocal breaking through the instruments – strings, Namjoon thinks absently – the words in a language he doesn’t readily recognise but that could be French, maybe Spanish. Jimin’s dancing changes to match the new mood, arms reaching out and then pulling back in, empty, his whole body folding in on itself until Jimin’s knees hit the floor in time for the final echoing beat.
He’s leaning on his hands, head hanging low. In the sudden silence of the room, the sound of his ragged breathing is loud.
Namjoon’s heart is breaking and he doesn’t know why. Jimin looks hurt. He looks like dancing that had hurt, and Namjoon’s whole body lurches forward, wanting to curl around him and make it better somehow.
He must make a noise, sneakers squeaking against the floor or something, because Jimin’s head snaps up looking into the shadows at the end of the room. Namjoon has already probably crossed some lines here and he doesn’t want to add deliberately scaring Jimin to the list so he walks forward openly.
“Hey Jimin-ah,” he calls softly. “It’s only hyung. I’m sorry for startling you.”
Jimin relaxes a bit after hearing a familiar voice but he still looks wary, getting up. “What are you doing here?” he asks, and it’s not angry or cold, but not exactly warm either.
Namjoon swallows, his earlier logic of just inviting himself if Jimin wasn’t going to bring it up again, feeling much shakier. “I wanted to see the dance. You asked and I feel bad for letting you down so…” He trails off, shrugging awkwardly. The urge to pull Jimin into a hug is still there but Jimin looks like he might not allow it which… Namjoon doesn’t remember that ever happening before.
“How…?” Jimin wraps his arms around his middle. “How much did you see?”
He could lie. He could say ‘only the ending’ and it be even sort of true because the last two minutes of a song are technically its ending, but Namjoon’s fucked up enough already. “Maybe half of it?” he says. “I should’ve said something but… I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Oh,” Jimin says. “Okay. Well… It isn’t the dance I was going to show you. Or…” He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, looking both frustrated and apprehensive. “It is but… It’s not the same. It…” He visibly searches for a word, mouth opening and closing a couple of times before he settles on “evolved.”
Namjoon doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or bad. “It looked…” His turn to flounder. ‘Good’ is both true – because Jimin’s dancing is always amazing – and not true because it sure didn’t feel good, and anything else in that line just makes it sound like Namjoon enjoyed seeing Jimin like that.
“It looked real,” he settles on. And then, because he’s worried and it feels like his chest is split in two with it, “It looked painful, like… Jimin, are you…? Did something…?”
“No,” Jimin interrupts. “Nothing happened.” He laughs and it’s the same laugh from before, when Namjoon had spoken to him after the group practice, like something is both funny and not.
Jimin runs a hand over his face, leaving it over his mouth for a long moment. It’s enough to make the muttered ‘fuck’ muffled but not nearly enough to mask the emotion in it.
Namjoon is at a loss. This feels like it’s about something more than a dance but before he can articulate his messy concern into an actual question, Jimin seems to come to some sort of conclusion.
“Do you want to see the original version?” he asks. “You’re here now so…”
“Yes,” Namjoon says without hesitation. This is what he came here to do, to watch the dance Jimin wanted him to see, to make good on a promise. “Yes, absolutely. Please. I would like to.” It’s maybe a bit of overkill but something about Jimin’s tense resolve softens and he nods.
“Okay. Okay, you sit…” He casts about but there aren’t actually any chairs in the studio for Namjoon to sit on. “Uh, just… Stand…” He grabs Namjoon by the arms and moves him to the edge of the light, facing the mirror. “There. Just. Stand there.”
Namjoon stays where he’s been left, and watches Jimin go queue up the song again before returning to the centre of the makeshift stage. At first Namjoon assumes that he’s going to face the mirror as well, they way he would when practicing, but instead Jimin turns toward him and makes direct eye-contact.
Namjoon’s breath catches somewhere in the back of his throat and doesn’t escape until the last bar of the song dies away.
This is the same dance as the one he saw earlier, and yet not. The song is the same of course, still with that deep bass under a melody that tugs at the emotions. Jimin’s choreo follows the latter, all flowing movements and grace, except when you least expect it, he drops into something harder and grittier, in time to the underlying beat. His eyes stay on Namjoon the whole time. It’s beautiful and emotional and… undeniably sexual. Namjoon has seen Jimin do a thousand body rolls and suggestive hip thrusts, his hands traveling all over his own chest, stomach, thighs. The difference is that he has never seen Jimin do them at him, only at him, with no one else in the room. For the moment it feels like maybe there is no one else anywhere, the whole world shrinking into their little circle of soft light with Jimin dancing in the middle and Namjoon clinging to the shadows on the edge.
The ending is different, lighter, despite the yearning quality of the singer’s voice. And when the music fades out Jimin doesn’t fall to his knees this time, but instead comes to a stop in front of Namjoon, close enough that he can see every rise and fall of his chest, the way sweat clings to his hairline.
Jimin is still looking at him, almost defiantly, and here is the clue Namjoon was wishing for earlier, understanding flooding him almost gently, like a river covering the fields after spring rain. This wasn’t Jimin dancing at him, it was Jimin dancing for him, which means the dance itself was for…
“Jimin-ah,” Namjoon says, and when his hand reaches out it’s shaking, because he thinks he knows the answer now but he still doesn’t quite believe it.
Namjoon’s fingers dip into the damp hollow of Jimin’s throat, over the pulse hammering against his skin strong and fast. “Is this for me?” he asks and he means the dance and everything else too, Jimin’s body swaying toward him, his mouth pink and perfect, open on a stuttering exhale, his heart, beating against Namjoon’s fingers with a cadence he wants to write into a song.
“If you want it,” Jimin says and his voice is steady, steady, steady but the rest of him is not, fine tremors running under his skin when Namjoon trails his hands over Jimin’s shoulders, down his arms and back up again. “Only if you…” Jimin starts to say and then Namjoon’s thumb presses against his bottom lip, silencing the rest.
“I didn’t know.” Namjoon hopes the apology is obvious. “I didn’t dare to…”
“You know now,” Jimin says, and Namjoon’s fingertips catches against the wet inside of his lip. “So dare.”
Namjoon kisses him.
It feels like a record scratch, like something designed to grab your attention mid-song before a new beat kicks in and steals your breath.
They kiss until Jimin’s uncertainty melts into boldness, his body pressing against Namjoon’s, wanting and unhesitant. They kiss until Namjoon’s hands curl around the back of Jimin’s neck, the sweat-slick curve of his ribcage, the strong underside of his thigh, greedy and possessive. They kiss until they are smiling too much to do it any more and Namjoon thinks this might be more than just a flow switch-up, that this feels like the opening bars of a brand new song.
***
Title: Beat Change
Author:
kat_lair / Mistress KatFandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Pairing: Kim Namjoon | RM/Park Jimin
Tags: Feelings, Dancing, Oblivious Kim Namjoon (I'm delighted btw that this is an existing tag)
Rating: T
Word count: 3,846
Disclaimer: Very not true
Summary:
"Hyung," Jimin says again. "I need a favour."
Namjoon softens. "Of course," he says, against his best judgement. "What is it?"
"Come watch my dance practice later?"
Namjoon blinks. This was so low on the list of possible requests that he hadn't even seen it coming. "Why?" He's genuinely puzzled. They've all watched each other practice enough for it to become something of a non-event.
"I'm working on something new," Jimin says, his smile small. The strands of his hair tickle the side of Namjoon's face. "I need a second opinion." Namjoon frowns, confused.
[spoiler: Namjoon figures it out in the end]
Author notes: This was written for
adelate's prompt which was literally just the pairing and my brain went 'what, I don't even really care about that pairing, how would they OH WAIT I KNOW' and then this. Thanks to dreamersdare and adelate for making it readable.Beat Change on AO3
The first time Jimin asks him to come watch his dance practice, Namjoon says an easy but distracted yes. There are a lot of plates spinning at the moment and he's already fielded approximately one million (only a slight exaggeration) phone calls that day. Jimin comes over and tugs on his sleeve for attention in the brief lull between calls, and then when that doesn't work, drapes himself over Namjoon's shoulder where he’s sitting, and forcibly pushes himself into his field of vision.
"Hyung," he says, face suddenly way too close to Namjoon's.
Namjoon jerks back but then feels guilty about it because it's not Jimin's fault Namjoon has a problem with his proximity and they end up in a weird tangled position, the chair tilted back precariously and Jimin balancing on one foot. Somewhere behind them Jungkook cackles and there's a tell-tale click of a camera. Dammit.
"Hyung," Jimin says again. "I need a favour."
Namjoon softens. "Of course," he says, against his best judgement. "What is it?"
"Come watch my dance practice later?"
Namjoon blinks. This was so low on the list of possible requests that he hadn't even seen it coming. "Why?" He's genuinely puzzled. They've all watched each other practice enough for it to become something of a non-event.
"I'm working on something new," Jimin says, his smile small. The strands of his hair tickle the side of Namjoon's face. "I need a second opinion." Namjoon frowns, confused. Wouldn't Hoseok...
His phone rings. "Okay," he says, already thumbing it to answer.
Jimin's smile turns blinding and then he disappears. The chair thumps back to the ground and Namjoon has to apologise to the caller for the embarrassing screech of surprise he makes.
Later comes quickly, but by then Namjoon has been called into a meeting at the label and it's not the kind of thing he can bow out of. Certainly not for a reason like this. As compelling he finds Jimin's dancing, just the image of Bang PD-nim's face if he tried to offer it as an excuse to postpone a meeting is enough to make him wince. He made a promise, and he feels sorry about breaking it, but the truth is that Namjoon has no useful opinions to offer about dancing so it's not like Jimin is going to be missing out.
He tracks Hoseok down in the fifteen minutes before he has to leave and explains the situation.
Hoseok's face scrunches in confusion. "Jimin is working on something new?" he asks in a way that makes it obvious that this is news to him. "And he wanted you to see it?" 'Instead of me?' is silent but very much implied.
Namjoon shrugs, equally baffled. Have the two of them fallen out over something? Has he been so distracted by the management demands that he's neglected to notice a conflict brewing between his group mates? Namjoon feels awful but he's also going to be late. "Look, just... you go. I'll catch up with you when I'm back. Okay?"
Hoseok nods, still looking sort of unhappy around the edges.
"Hoseok," Namjoon says, putting a little emphasis on his voice. "We'll talk when I'm back. Okay?"
"Yes," Hoseok says. "Yeah, Namjoon-ah. I'll... Talk to Jimin. And then you."
It'll have to do. Namjoon's phone is already lighting up, the driver letting him know they're waiting.
***
When Namjoon gets back it's past midnight. The TV in the lounge is on with the sound turned off and Jungkook and Taehyung are fast asleep in front of it, Seokjin sitting on the sofa scrolling through his phone.
"Hey," he says, voice pitched low as he leans back to catch Namjoon trying to tiptoe in. "There's food in the kitchen." He doesn't even bother to ask if Namjoon has eaten. He knows.
Namjoon nods a sheepish thanks, tilting his head toward the bedrooms. "Everyone in?"
"Yoongi's still at the studio."
Namjoon doesn't have a leg to stand on about that so he doesn't try. "You waiting up for him?"
"No," Seokjin lies and goes back to his phone.
Namjoon swings by the kitchen to get some food first but on the way to bed he slows outside Jimin and Hoseok's room. There's light under the door and he could knock and apologise but... He'll talk to them tomorrow.
***
"Everything is fine," Hoseok tells him the next morning. They're sharing a car to the studio largely because Hoseok had run him down and demanded a lift. "But you should go see Jimin's next practice."
It's early and Namjoon isn't even really awake yet so the two sentences don't quite compute. "But you're the dance expert," he says. "What can I possibly do for him that you couldn't, and better."
Hoseok snorts coffee out of his nose, coughing and wheezing through laughter, tears running down his face. "Oh god," he moans. "Oh god, Joon-ah that was the funniest thing you've ever said and you don't even know it." He flaps his hand and the driver silently passes Namjoon a pack of tissues. He pulls several out and tries to pat Hoseok's face dry but he's still laughing too hard. "And I can't even tell anyone. Yet. Oh god, this is torture," Hoseok groans between wet hiccups.
"I don't understand," Namjoon says. He's getting kind of annoyed about it now, on principle. There aren't a lot of things in the world he doesn't understand if he puts his mind to it. And reads a book or five about it. There probably isn't one for this.
"Just go watch the next time he's practicing." Hoseok pats him on the back pityingly. It doesn't help.
***
It is possibly solid advice but the problem is that Namjoon doesn't exactly know when Jimin is next working on this new project of his. They're all super busy for several days, including at dance practice, but it's all for group choreos. Jimin is, as usual, eminently watchable during those occasions but Namjoon has made it a personal policy to not let his eyes linger on him any longer than they do on anyone else. On the break Jimin and Jungkook get into some kind of competition over finding and then copying the most outrageous dance styles they can track down on Youtube and by the time they hit on something called Lambada from a couple of decades ago everyone is on the floor from laughter. Namjoon keeps his eyes firmly on the ridiculous face – “It’s passion!” “You look constipated.” – Jungkook is pulling and not on the slow roll of Jimin’s hips. Luckily, trying to stop Taehyung from filming the whole thing is distraction enough.
Afterwards, when everyone else is filing toward the changing rooms, Namjoon hangs back and catches Jimin by the simple effort of catching his eye and tilting his head slightly. He doesn’t even have to say anything, somehow Jimin just knows what he means, changing direction easily and waving the others off.
“What’s up?” he asks. The back of his loose shirt is dark with sweat and his hair is sticking up stiffly behind a dorky headband. He looks luminous.
Namjoon reminds himself of his position and puts on his best ‘concerned leader’ voice, the one he’s perfected over the years and that Yoongi makes merciless fun of.
“Is everything okay with you and Hobi?” he asks.
Jimin blinks a few times, genuinely thrown. Which is a good sign surely. “Me and…? Oh,” he says, eyes widening. “You thought we were like fighting or something?”
“Well…” Namjoon shrugs, uncomfortable. What else was he supposed to think? It had been a very logical conclusion.
Jimin’s laughter is loud, exploding out in an inelegant snort that seems to take even him by surprise. He claps a hand over his mouth and then another over his eyes until he’s chortling into his cupped palms in a way that doesn’t look entirely fun.
“Jimin-ah…?” Namjoon reaches out and rubs his back for lack of anything else to do. For some reason it feels like he should comfort, as if Jimin was crying rather than laughing.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Jimin says, wiping at his face. “Hobi-hyung and I are good, there’s nothing to worry about.” He shrugs Namjoon’s hand off, so casually that it almost seems accidental. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
Namjoon lets his arm fall down and bites down on the ‘you’re all mine to worry about’ speech, the one that tends to escape when he’s either very tired or very drunk. Instead he goes with Hoseok’s advice.
“I’m sorry for missing your dance practice when I said I would come.” He doesn’t offer an explanation. Jimin already knows. “Can we do a rain check?”
Jimin’s head jerks up in surprise. “You still want to?” he asks, and if Namjoon hadn’t been feeling shitty about the whole thing already, that would’ve sealed it.
“Yeah.” He nods vigorously, trying to broadcast sincerity. “Of course. I don’t know anything about dance, not like you do, but if you want my opinion, you’ll get it.”
Jimin’s watching him silently, almost… shyly. “Okay,” he says finally. “That would be… That would be good, hyung.”
***
Jimin sends him a message later that day with his schedule. There’s a space carved out in a week’s time that says ‘Jimin private dance studio booking’ and Namjoon meticulously adds it to his own calendar, setting up reminders and everything.
His phone dutifully alerts him about the event twenty-four hours before, then again that morning, and two hours before when Namjoon is in his studio, fully immersed in a new track. His phone also beeps an enthusiastic fifteen-minute warning at him when he’s fast asleep, slumped over the decks.
He wakes three hours later with a crick in his neck and a loud knocking at the door.
When he opens it, Jungkook all but falls on him with a relieved “Oh thank god, hyung! I thought you were dead!” Behind him, Taehyung and Hoseok are wearing identical looks of disappointment.
Shit, Namjoon thinks. Shit. There are five missed calls on his phone. None of them are from Jimin.
***
“No worries, hyung,” Jimin says when Namjoon tries to apologise. He smiles so wide and fake that Namjoon kind of wants to hit something. Mostly himself. “I know you’re busy and have more important things to do.”
Namjoon’s whole body flinches. “I’m…”
“It’s fine,” Jimin says. This time softer, his smile dropping to something more genuine. Somehow, it’s worse. “It’s fine. I understand.” Namjoon sure as hell doesn’t.
Jimin reaches out like he’s about to pat Namjoon on the arm or something but pulls back the last minute and instead runs an awkward hand over his hair, already slicked back and perfect for the photoshoot they are scheduled for. “I’m going to…” He nods toward the waiting crew and Namjoon watches him go, helpless.
“Are you going to fix this?” Yoongi asks in a low voice from somewhere behind him.
Namjoon doesn’t even startle. He just nods.
“Okay then,” Yoongi says and claps him on the shoulder.
Namjoon is going to fix this. He just doesn’t know how or even what this is.
***
Jimin doesn’t ask him to come watch his dance practice again.
Namjoon doesn’t even realise he’s waiting for an invitation until it fails to materialise. And as soon as he does, he feels like an idiot for doing so. Jimin asked twice and Namjoon let him down twice, he’s lucky Jimin is even speaking to him anymore.
Jimin is, in fact, acting entirely normally around Namjoon. There’s no cold shoulder, no pushing back on the direction Namjoon sets for them. Well, no more than usual. He may be the leader but this is a god damn democracy with all its messy imperfections and the day Namjoon’s decisions aren’t first improved with a cacophony of questions and suggestions is a day he hopes never comes.
Jimin joins in with the stupid jokes with the rest of maknaes, presses as readily into group hugs as before, and drapes himself over the others for a nap. Well, maybe not over Namjoon as often as before but that’s probably a coincidence, all in Namjoon’s head.
Everything is fine. Everything is as normal as it ever gets for them.
And yet Namjoon can’t shake the feeling of something not quite being as it should be. As it… could have been? It feels like something he missed, like an opportunity that he failed to even notice. It’s maddening, and itches at the back of his mind every time he sees Jimin, which is to say all damn day along.
In the end he figures it’s probably his broken promise that’s bothering him. Like a piece of coursework he hasn’t yet handed in except this doesn’t feel like an obligation. Nothing about any of them does. Nothing about Jimin does. Maybe like a gift he forgot to get for someone’s birthday?
Well, Namjoon hasn’t gotten to where he is now by waiting for invitations. He’s gone and walked himself through doors and the one to the dance studio 3, booked for Jimin that evening his shameless spying of shared calendars reveals, is no exception.
Namjoon times it to about thirty minutes after Jimin would’ve gotten there. That way, if the whole thing blows up in his face, he at least hasn’t stolen all of Jimin’s studio time. The door is unlocked and the lights are low when Namjoon sneaks in, feeling a little creepy but determined to make things right. The layout of the smaller studios are the same as the big ones; entry way branching in to a dressing room with one door leading to the en-suite, another to the dance studio itself.
That door is ajar and he can hear the music filtering through, something slow and almost melancholy but with a deep bass rhythm to it that hits hard. Carefully, Namjoon eases the door wider and himself through it.
The music is louder now but the lights are dimmed here as well, only the mirror end of the room illuminated, leaving Namjoon in the shadows.
Jimin is dancing.
This should not hit him in the way that it does, like a fist to the gut.
Maybe it’s something to do with the lighting, or the music, or the way the loose ends of his shirt flare when he turns. Maybe it’s the novelty of seeing Jimin dance purely for himself. He’s not performing or learning a choreography, or even trying to provoke a reaction from someone. Though he does. Because there is an audience, Jimin just doesn’t know it, and Namjoon really should make some kind of noise, to let him know that he’s there but…
The beat switches up, and something about Jimin’s movements becomes almost desperate, choppy and jagged where he’s usually all fluidity and clean lines. The angles of his body are sharp, but in a way a rusted knife can still cut, and it’s almost painful to watch.
The song slows back down to something almost yearning, a vocal breaking through the instruments – strings, Namjoon thinks absently – the words in a language he doesn’t readily recognise but that could be French, maybe Spanish. Jimin’s dancing changes to match the new mood, arms reaching out and then pulling back in, empty, his whole body folding in on itself until Jimin’s knees hit the floor in time for the final echoing beat.
He’s leaning on his hands, head hanging low. In the sudden silence of the room, the sound of his ragged breathing is loud.
Namjoon’s heart is breaking and he doesn’t know why. Jimin looks hurt. He looks like dancing that had hurt, and Namjoon’s whole body lurches forward, wanting to curl around him and make it better somehow.
He must make a noise, sneakers squeaking against the floor or something, because Jimin’s head snaps up looking into the shadows at the end of the room. Namjoon has already probably crossed some lines here and he doesn’t want to add deliberately scaring Jimin to the list so he walks forward openly.
“Hey Jimin-ah,” he calls softly. “It’s only hyung. I’m sorry for startling you.”
Jimin relaxes a bit after hearing a familiar voice but he still looks wary, getting up. “What are you doing here?” he asks, and it’s not angry or cold, but not exactly warm either.
Namjoon swallows, his earlier logic of just inviting himself if Jimin wasn’t going to bring it up again, feeling much shakier. “I wanted to see the dance. You asked and I feel bad for letting you down so…” He trails off, shrugging awkwardly. The urge to pull Jimin into a hug is still there but Jimin looks like he might not allow it which… Namjoon doesn’t remember that ever happening before.
“How…?” Jimin wraps his arms around his middle. “How much did you see?”
He could lie. He could say ‘only the ending’ and it be even sort of true because the last two minutes of a song are technically its ending, but Namjoon’s fucked up enough already. “Maybe half of it?” he says. “I should’ve said something but… I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Oh,” Jimin says. “Okay. Well… It isn’t the dance I was going to show you. Or…” He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, looking both frustrated and apprehensive. “It is but… It’s not the same. It…” He visibly searches for a word, mouth opening and closing a couple of times before he settles on “evolved.”
Namjoon doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or bad. “It looked…” His turn to flounder. ‘Good’ is both true – because Jimin’s dancing is always amazing – and not true because it sure didn’t feel good, and anything else in that line just makes it sound like Namjoon enjoyed seeing Jimin like that.
“It looked real,” he settles on. And then, because he’s worried and it feels like his chest is split in two with it, “It looked painful, like… Jimin, are you…? Did something…?”
“No,” Jimin interrupts. “Nothing happened.” He laughs and it’s the same laugh from before, when Namjoon had spoken to him after the group practice, like something is both funny and not.
Jimin runs a hand over his face, leaving it over his mouth for a long moment. It’s enough to make the muttered ‘fuck’ muffled but not nearly enough to mask the emotion in it.
Namjoon is at a loss. This feels like it’s about something more than a dance but before he can articulate his messy concern into an actual question, Jimin seems to come to some sort of conclusion.
“Do you want to see the original version?” he asks. “You’re here now so…”
“Yes,” Namjoon says without hesitation. This is what he came here to do, to watch the dance Jimin wanted him to see, to make good on a promise. “Yes, absolutely. Please. I would like to.” It’s maybe a bit of overkill but something about Jimin’s tense resolve softens and he nods.
“Okay. Okay, you sit…” He casts about but there aren’t actually any chairs in the studio for Namjoon to sit on. “Uh, just… Stand…” He grabs Namjoon by the arms and moves him to the edge of the light, facing the mirror. “There. Just. Stand there.”
Namjoon stays where he’s been left, and watches Jimin go queue up the song again before returning to the centre of the makeshift stage. At first Namjoon assumes that he’s going to face the mirror as well, they way he would when practicing, but instead Jimin turns toward him and makes direct eye-contact.
Namjoon’s breath catches somewhere in the back of his throat and doesn’t escape until the last bar of the song dies away.
This is the same dance as the one he saw earlier, and yet not. The song is the same of course, still with that deep bass under a melody that tugs at the emotions. Jimin’s choreo follows the latter, all flowing movements and grace, except when you least expect it, he drops into something harder and grittier, in time to the underlying beat. His eyes stay on Namjoon the whole time. It’s beautiful and emotional and… undeniably sexual. Namjoon has seen Jimin do a thousand body rolls and suggestive hip thrusts, his hands traveling all over his own chest, stomach, thighs. The difference is that he has never seen Jimin do them at him, only at him, with no one else in the room. For the moment it feels like maybe there is no one else anywhere, the whole world shrinking into their little circle of soft light with Jimin dancing in the middle and Namjoon clinging to the shadows on the edge.
The ending is different, lighter, despite the yearning quality of the singer’s voice. And when the music fades out Jimin doesn’t fall to his knees this time, but instead comes to a stop in front of Namjoon, close enough that he can see every rise and fall of his chest, the way sweat clings to his hairline.
Jimin is still looking at him, almost defiantly, and here is the clue Namjoon was wishing for earlier, understanding flooding him almost gently, like a river covering the fields after spring rain. This wasn’t Jimin dancing at him, it was Jimin dancing for him, which means the dance itself was for…
“Jimin-ah,” Namjoon says, and when his hand reaches out it’s shaking, because he thinks he knows the answer now but he still doesn’t quite believe it.
Namjoon’s fingers dip into the damp hollow of Jimin’s throat, over the pulse hammering against his skin strong and fast. “Is this for me?” he asks and he means the dance and everything else too, Jimin’s body swaying toward him, his mouth pink and perfect, open on a stuttering exhale, his heart, beating against Namjoon’s fingers with a cadence he wants to write into a song.
“If you want it,” Jimin says and his voice is steady, steady, steady but the rest of him is not, fine tremors running under his skin when Namjoon trails his hands over Jimin’s shoulders, down his arms and back up again. “Only if you…” Jimin starts to say and then Namjoon’s thumb presses against his bottom lip, silencing the rest.
“I didn’t know.” Namjoon hopes the apology is obvious. “I didn’t dare to…”
“You know now,” Jimin says, and Namjoon’s fingertips catches against the wet inside of his lip. “So dare.”
Namjoon kisses him.
It feels like a record scratch, like something designed to grab your attention mid-song before a new beat kicks in and steals your breath.
They kiss until Jimin’s uncertainty melts into boldness, his body pressing against Namjoon’s, wanting and unhesitant. They kiss until Namjoon’s hands curl around the back of Jimin’s neck, the sweat-slick curve of his ribcage, the strong underside of his thigh, greedy and possessive. They kiss until they are smiling too much to do it any more and Namjoon thinks this might be more than just a flow switch-up, that this feels like the opening bars of a brand new song.
***