There is a man that comes into EatJin a few times a week with bleached, pushed up hair and dimples.
“I hate him,” Jin growls. Jeongguk just pats his hand with a sigh.
“I mean, what the hell?” Jin's really getting worked up now, his face developing a bit of (beautiful) flush. On the other side of the table, Jimin stares. “Why does he track leaves in here every single day? Why can't he shake off his shoes outside like a normal human?”
“Maybe he has to walk through leaf piles to get here, hyung.” Jeongguk states, reasonably. Jin scoffs at reason. “Or maybe he just doesn't realize.” Jimin nods, brightly.
“Just tell him, hyung.” Jimin says in his sweet, high voice. “I'm sure he's nice.”
“He looks like a serial killer,” Jin says flatly. “He's taller than me with silver hair and sleeves of tattoos, Jimin. He wears snapbacks and wife beaters with eyeliner. He could murder me and harvest my perfect skin.”
Jeongguk just takes a bite of Jin's pastry, ignoring Jin's affronted squawk. “He has dimples, hyung. Anyone with dimples like that can't be a serial killer.”
Kim Seokjin, cooking genius, small time chaebol, and visual god doesn't have time for annoyingly tall, deep voiced, possible sociopaths that break everything and track leaves into his fine establishment.
He founded his catering business fresh out of college and has been on the steady rise upwards, having moved on from small suburban birthday parties and graduated to supplying the food for the weddings of South Korea’s most elite and rich after a lot of hard work and some serious manipulation tactics, taught to him by his annoyingly successful mother. Now at age twenty-five, Jin has a full plate (ha) and no time for anything that isn't his business.
EatJin is just the name of the cafe, which isn't even half of his business. The cute little cafe right inside of Gangnam is just the result of Jin being unable to stop working and a way to test new recipes on the unsuspecting public, as well as the desire to have a fully operational kitchen somewhere that isn't in his home. Kim Seokjin Catering is the real money maker, what he spends all his time on and what has become his whole life.
Kim Seokjin Catering caters to the glorious upper class and their events, which means that forty percent of the time, Jin is in one of his Italian suits, smirking just the right amount and overseeing everything with a casual glance and flick of the wrist. The other sixty percent of the time he's in an oversized, messy t shirt with flour all over it and the smell of beef permanently seeped into his too-ripped jeans.
EatJin cafe is easy to run: there are often different pastries and menu options each day as he serves whatever he cooked too much of the previous day for catering, which he just needs to set out and make sure they have enough coffee. He hired Kim Taehyung not long ago, a bubbly, overly cheerful med student that box-smiles at absolutely everyone. He also comes up with so many weird drinks that are actually good, Jin doesn't have to worry about the drink menu. Jin loves Taehyung deeply. Less work for him.
With Taehyung’s magic people skills taking care of everything up front and almost all of Jin's time being taken up in the back where he uses his industrial, huge kitchen to churn out meals and meals a day, it means he is very rarely behind the bar of EatJin. Meaning, he never serves customers. Meaning, he has never met Tattoo Dimple Boy.
And he absolutely doesn't want to. No matter what Taehyung says.
“Hyungggg, you should meet him,” Taehyung whines on a cold, drizzly day. “He's always going on about your food and saying how good it is.”
Jin raises on perfect eyebrow. “My food is always good,” he replies. Taehyung rolls his eyes, and then hands Jin the bag of sugar Jin was gesturing to. “I have no desire to meet the person who has tracked leaves in six times.”
“He always feels so bad about that, hyung!” Taehyung exclaims. “It's honestly really cute. He looks scary, but he's actually a teddy bear.”
Jin snickers. “It's costing me money in brooms, is what it is. If I meet him, I meet him. But I'm not going to go up and wait around when I have work.”
“Fine.” Taehyung flounces out of the kitchen. “But don't think I don't also know what this is, hyung- you're intimidated by him, too!”
Seokjin scowls. “I am not,” he mutters to himself, and then thinks about the tattoos and eyeliner and muscled arms in wifebeaters. “Gah.”
The next week, Seokjin comes out of his kitchen to find more leaves and a broken mug.
“Are you joking?!” He rages. Perched in a chair behind the counter, Taehyung is snickering. “What is wrong with this man?!”
“I'm sorry, hyung.” Taehyung giggles. “But he really doesn't even realize he's doing it.”
“Yah!” Seokjin roars. “Next time, tell him!” Taehyung is still laughing into his hands when the door jingles open again.
“Jiminie!” Taehyung cheers. A rush of cold fall air sweeps Jimin into the shop, bringing the smell of sharp, freezing air and winter street food in along as well.“Park Jimin, come park that ass in front of me. I need affection to get through the rest of the working day.”
“Because your job is so strenuous,” Jimin says sarcastically, walking over to Taehyung's chair and standing in front of it. Taehyung hugs Jimin's waist and happily presses his face into Jimin's thighs. “Hi, hyung!”
“Hi, Jimin-ah,” Seokjin growls, still thinking about broken ceramics and profit margin.
“This needs to stop,” Seokjin decided abruptly, staring at the leaves. “He normally comes in on weekends, right? I'll, uh, politely inform him of his transgressions then.”
“His transgressions,” Jimin whispers, pretending to be ashen faced. Taehyung presses his face to Jimin's thigh even harder in muddled laughter. Seokjin ignores them with a haughty sniff. They’ll see.
Unfortunately, it doesn't work out like that.
“What do you mean you ran out of flour?!”
This isn't a good day.
The man from the grocery delivery service bumbles on the other end of the phone. “Well, sir, we had a mass order and the workers didn't check the logs to see if there were any previous unfulfilled orders, so they sent it all-”
Seokjin rubs his forehead and considers tearing his perfect hair out. “How do you run out of flour?”
“Never mind. Nevermind, I don't- nevermind. Just send the flour my way as soon as it's fixed, please. Thank you.”
Jin promptly hangs up the phone and throws it at an EatJin couch, then flips the sign from open to closed and swears, long and loud. Looks like he's going to Cosco. Fuck.
It takes him two hours to actually get to Cosco; he has to finish the batch of meat he was cooking for tomorrow and cut pounds and pounds of vegetables before he can leave the kitchen. Taehyung has already been instructed not to come in and has been periodically sending motivational Mario stickers to him. Jin loves that kid.
When he finally gets to Cosco, tearing into the parking lot in his electric car (Jin supports the Earth- his cafe runs on solar too) he smells like meat and tofu mixed with kimchi. It's not good. One of Costco's big-ass carts finangles its way into his grubby hands and he’s resisting the urge to jump onto it and sail down the bulk cereal aisle like a twelve year old, even though, he thinks, he deserves that fun.
(He sales down the cleaning aisle.)
The bulk flour is stacked near the back of the building, bag on bag on bag, thrown on top of each other by what must be giants because moving one of the bags even an inch is pure torture. He manages to get three big ass fifty pound bags into his cart, decides that's enough for at least a little bit, and turns to go and check out.
Jin has been lucky his whole life. He works like a dog, of course- success isn’t just luck- but often, the most successful are also lucky as well. Throughout his life, he has always been aware of this and has always worked as hard as he could to show whatever luck-bringing-all-knowing God that he is grateful for his lot in life.
His luck just ran out.
Dimple man is in the aisle. Dimple man is in the aisle. That’s just great. First he runs out of flour, then he spills cabbage all over the kitchen floor, and now his personal, constant (well-paying) pain in the ass is standing in front of him while Jin wears a ripped Magic Kid Masuri shirt and smells like meat and tofu mixed with kimchi.
Seokjin immediately panics, looks at the shelf of bulk flour, and dives into it.
Crammed behind bags of flour in a metal structure is not going well. Jin is 5’10 with anime shoulders. Shoved into a tiny metal box, he looks like an obese person in a corset.
But listen. He might look ridiculous, might feel ridiculous, but he has a good reason. Really.
Really. That's practically Seokjin’s arch enemy right there and Jin has on an old, ripped kids show shirt he stole from his brother-in-law, too small jeans, and has completely flat, volumeless hair. He can't meet his mortal combatant looking like a rate one mess.
Jin is never telling anyone about this, ever.
Jin squints through the stacks of whole-wheat flour, his eyes twitching. Why is Tattoo Dimple Man here? What could he want with fifty pound bags of flour? And oh God, Seokjin thinks with a dawning horror, this man might be here for flour. The shelf Seokjin has leapt into.
Seokjin can see it in his mind's eye: The man bending down, reaching for his bulk flour, suddenly making eye contact with the freak who is fucking hiding in the flour shelf like some kind of nesting animal. The following yells of confusion and fear, security being called, Seokjin losing a customer...
Please, make him not be here for flour. Seokjin doesn’t even know what God he’s praying to. Maybe all of them. Maybe the one that took his luck away. Please. Please. Please.
Tattoo Dimple Man stops in front of the opposite shelf, thank fucking God, where- where all the fucking bulk coffee is. Seokjin eyes the man. Tan skin but with a gray tint, eyelined eyes but with natural dark bags. Yeah, this guy probably inhales coffee like it’s fucking oxygen.
Jin watches through bags of flour as he grabs four bags of four pound coffee beans, what the actual fuck, and smacks them into his cart. The coffee is the only thing in it.
Tattoo Dimple Man turns to leave, avoiding the flour shelf completely and Seokjin praises God because now he can actually get out of his metal shelf hell trap, but then a fucking phone rings, and Seokjin suffers through at least five heart attacks in the two seconds it takes him to realize the ringing isn’t coming from his phone.
The man pulls out an iPhone with a busted screen- of course- and answers it with a deep “hey, hyung.” Seokjin is offended at this man's voice. It isn’t Taehyung’s, but it’s almost as bad. More- raw? Powerful. It sounds like the melted chocolate Seokjin burns himself with at least once a week.
Great. Now he’s comparing a stranger's voice to melted chocolate. Maybe he should just heed Jeongguk’s advice and actually go get laid.
“....No, I’m at Cosco. I know. No, I... coffee. I’m getting coffee. No, the damn shop was closed. I don’t know, it’s never closed.”
Seokjin frowns. What shop?
The man starts to fake cry. Seokjin raises an eyebrow and tries not to laugh. He didn’t expect that amount of drama.
“I don’t know, it just was. I just want my damn coffee... listen, do you know what day it is? I would kill for a Van Gogh right now.”
“Wait a minute,” Seokjin thinks. “It’s Friday. Taehyung names all the drinks after artists on Fridays. And my shop is closed.”
“No, I’m getting coffee beans, not coffee grains. That’s what I said. Because that’s what they have! Do I have a- what?” There’s a pause. “I don’t know, do grinders come attached to coffee machines?”
Seokjin has to close his eyes and count to ten.
“I just want my fucking coffee,” Tattoo Dimple Man whines. “I’ll kill a bitch right now.”
Sociopath. Seokjin knew it.
“And someone left their fucking cart in the aisle.”
“It’s just full of flour, what the fuck? Like, three bags of bulk flour. Fifty pound bags of flour. Who needs-” Tattoo Dimple Man levels one more judging stare at Seokjin’s pathetic flour cart and then wanders off with his own four bags of bulk coffee, now talking about meeting somewhere with whatever hyung he’s talking to. The fucker can’t judge, Seokjin thinks violently. Who needs four bags of bulk coffee? Seokjin is a cook and baker, thank you. He needs that flour.
Seokjin gives it a few moments and then crawls out of from the shelf, dusting spilled flour off of his jeans and forehead. His flour cart looks lonely and sad in the aisle with nothing else in it. On his way out, Seokjin throws in a bag of chocolate chips that he plans on binge eating at home to recover from this traumatic experience. This is why he doesn’t go outside.
Seokjin dusts off the flour and cobwebs again with disgust. He also needs a fucking shower.
(Once at home, he scoffs at the bag of chocolate chips and tosses it in his baking pantry. He’s better than binge eating. Also, how dare this man stress him out so much? He must truly be a demon. A very not-attractive, terrible demon.)
On Sunday, Tattoo Dimple Man comes back to EatJin as if nothing out of the ordinary happened on Friday.
“Why does he think he’s welcome back here, after that flagrant and terrible meeting on Friday?” Seokjin rants to Taehyung in the safety of his kitchen.
Taehyung raises his eyebrows. “Maybe because you didn’t meet?” he says. “You hid in a shelving unit, hyung. He didn’t know you were there.”
“Traitor,” Seokjin hisses. Taehyung laughs too loudly.
“I’m going to go talk to him,” Taehyung announces cheerfully as the man makes his way to the counter.
Seokjin’s head shoots up. “No, you are going to serve him, not talk to him.” He says, enraged. “Kim Taehyung-”
Taehyung bounces to the register, already talking a mile a minute. Tattoo Dimple Man just smiles at him.
Seokjin wavers, torn between his work and eavesdropping at his kitchen door, before deciding fuck it and hovering by the kitchen door to listen in.
“Hi seonbae!” Taehyung chirrups. “How are you?”
Tattoo Dimple Man beams. “Good, thank you.” Seokjin can see him glance at Taehyung’s nametag. “I’d like a green tea, large. Thank you, Taehyung-ssi.”
Taehyung grabs a marker and poses it over the cup. “Can I have a name, seonbae?”
“Oh. Uh- just use RM.”
RM, Seokjin thinks.
“That’s fine, RM-ssi.” Seokjin almost winces at the pure amount of aegyo Taehyung is sending at RM. “What can I get you?”
RM orders a hot chocolate with mint instead of the black coffee Seokjin was expecting. He’s actually neglected the wifebeater today and has on a white button up shirt with- are those black hearts??- and timberlands. Seokjin’s eyes glance over the timberlands, glance away, then narrow back in with the force of a laser.
Seokjin turns on his heels, stomps back to his kitchen, slams a few pans onto the stovetop, and imagines the tofu he’s frying is RM’s head.
“You'll never guess what RM-hyung does for work,” Taehyung trills at the top of his lungs.
Seokjin stands up from his crouching position rather quickly and smashes his head on an open drawer. Taehyung howls.
Taehyung shrugs. “Hyung stuck around for a bit and we got to know each other! Hyung’s not your hyung, through. RM-hyung is twenty-three.”
Seokjin’s develops an affronted expression. “Why is he so tall?” he mutters.
“Did you tell him to not track leaves in anymore?” Seokjin asks. Taehyung winces. Seokjin glares.
“We were having such a nice conversation!” Taehyung protests. “I didn't want to ruin it.”
Seokjin shrugs. “Fine, next time. So what does he do?”
Taehyung bounces on his feet ridiculously. “Hyung’s a rapper!”
Jin immediately shoots a dubious look. “Like, a rapper who posts on SoundCloud once a month, gets ten hits, and then goes and works at the convenience store night shift?”
“No, like a real rapper. A rapper and producer. He makes his own stuff and sometimes works with idol groups. You know DNA? He’s part of them as well.”
Seokjin racks his brain until he remembers a small web article about some rap group getting a difficult award he saw last month. “That's cool,” Jin says. “He makes his own stuff too?”
“Yeah! I don't know his stage name, he just mentioned his job. We didn't talk about it. But isn't that neat though? A real rapper!”
Seokjin laughs. “Having a career crisis, Taehyung-ah?”
“Nah, I just think it'd be cool. I’m excited about my job,” Taehyung smiles, and then, as if on cue, a little girl walks into the cafe with her mother. Taehyung beams at her and asks what she would like in a sweet voice, making concentrated listening faces when she answers. Jin smiles. Taehyung is probably gonna be the best pediatrician in Seoul.
The little girl leaves, munching on her cake and Jimin and Jeongguk enter almost immediately after, the huge one following the little. Jimin jumps up onto the counter as Jeongguk sits at a table and stares at his phone and Seokjin just sighs.
“Jiminie,” Taehyung coos, leaning over the counter so he can back hug Jimin. Jimin reaches up and pets Taehyung's hair.
“Can I have a chocolate croissant, TaeTae?” Jimin asks. Taehyung goes and gets it for him, and Jimin trains clever, sweet eyes on Seokjin's drooping form.
“Jinnie-hyung,” Jimin says kindly. “What's wrong?”
Seokjin sighs and opens his arms for a hug, which Jimin happily gives. “Big wedding in two weeks,” he explains. Jimin gives him a squeeze. “Lots of stress.”
Taehyung appears with Jimin's chocolate croissant, hands it to him, manhandles Jimin into a chair, and promptly plops down in his lap. “You need a boyfriend or girlfriend, hyung.” Taehyung says. “Then you'll have someone nice at home to ease your worries.”
Seokjin shoots Taehyung a look. “We can't all find our soulmates in middle school and get married at twenty, Taehyung.” Jimin giggles and runs his fingers through his husband’s hair. His other hand holds Taehyung's left and their matching rings catch the light. “I really don't have the time right now, as well. Plus, I don't need a partner.” Seokjin takes a breath. “It would be nice, though.”
There's a moment of silence before a chirp from Jeongguk’s phone breaks the silence. He dives to answer it like a man ducking from a missle, and Jin's curiosity is piqued.
“Who are you texting, kookie?” Jin asks. Jeongguk doesn't answer, but Jimin lets out a snort.
“His new scary boyfriend,” Jimin answers, smirking. Jeongguk aims a kick at him that Taehyung quickly blocks and then returns.
Seokjin waggles his eyebrows. “Boyfriend, huh? You know how this stuff works, right Kookie? See, when two men love eachother very much-”
Jeongguk groans. “Hyung, stop. He isn't my boyfriend.”
“No, but you want him to be,” Jimin interjects. He turns to Jin. “I walked in on them playing piano together. Or, Yoongi-hyung was, Kookie was sitting next to him and trying so hard not to cuddle him-”
“-shut up, Jimin-”
Jin cackles. “You like someone? You actually managed to talk to someone you like?”
Jeongguk slumps even more. “I hate you so much,” he mutters.
Jin just laughs again. “I want to meet him,” he says. “How old is this Yoongi-ssi?”
“Year younger than you,” Jeongguk answers, still tapping at his phone. “I met him at the music shop? The one next to the gym.”
Seokjin gives another devilish smile. “Piano man, huh? Bring him by some day.”
The next day, Seokjin is in full cooking force, preparing for a huge birthday party when an the literal fucking sun appears in his shop.
“Hoseokie-hyung!” Jin hears Taehyung practically scream.
Jin slams his head on an open cabinet this time.
There’s a muffled thud that Jin is sure is Taehyung's body running into the counter as he tries to leap over it, an “oof!” that is probably Hoseok doubling over from an over enthusiastic hug, two loud laughs, and then the kitchen door is practically getting ripped open.
Jung Hoseok saunters in with the grace of cat and Jin immediately jumps onto him, smothering him in a hug, yelling out incoherently.
“Jinnie-hyung!” Hoseok shouts, sounding close to tears. “I missed you!”
Jin pulls back a little, trying not to cry himself, giving Hoseok a lookover. He’s incredibly tan and stronger looking, his smile as bright as ever, almost crushing Jin’s ribs with his hug. There’s another sudden weight on the hug as Taehyung practically leaps onto Hoseok’s back, koalaing him completely and Jin is so happy. His boy is back.
A few moments later, after Jin manages to flip the sign to closed and has shoved various pastries into Hoseok’s hands, they all gather at one of the little coffee tables. Hoseok stretches out in his seat and hums happily over his coffee, Taehyung still hanging off of him.
“I missed your coffee, hyung,” Hoseok says. “They don’t make it like you do in America.”
Jin aims a slap at his arm, flustered. “How was America?” he asks. “How was the program?”
Hoseok grins widely. “Amazing,” he says, beaming. “I learned so much and taught some hoobaes, learned more english as well. There were some other Koreans there as well whose numbers I have, we’re going to see if we can meet up and perform together.”
Jin refills his coffee cup for the fifth time that day. Wedding prep day. “Are you going back next year?”
Hoseok nods. “Yeah. Also- I got a job from it?”
Taehyung looks up, eyes wide. “Really?!”
Hoseok starts to dimple. “Yep,” he says. “You know Big Hit management? They want me to choreo for one of their group's debut.”
Jin cheers and shoves another pastry into Hoseok’s mouth. “I’m so proud of you, Hoseok-ah. Here, eat to celebrate.”
The wedding goes off without a hitch. Jin comes back to his apartment from the reception and cleaning up at one am, crashes, wakes up at six in a panic, drives to the cafe, throws the open sign, lets Taehyung take over, then crashes out in his kitchen on the table with a sack of flour as a pillow.
He only wakes up from his mortifying position when loud scream rips through the air again like a gunshot. Jin staggers out from the kitchen, trying to see what happened, if someone fucking died in his cafe- but no, it’s just Taehyung, Jimin, and Hoseok crying with laughter over something on Jimin’s phone.
“What are you screaming about?” Jin all but growls. Hoseok looks up in apology.
“Sorry, hyung,” he says. “I’m looking for roommate postings on Craigslist and some of the listings are just ridiculous.”
Seokjin pulls a chair out next to Jimin and sinks back into it, heaving another sigh. Jimin gets up and makes to settle on Seokjin’s lap to offer some trademark Park Jimin comfort and one of his big koala hugs, but Taehyung immediately shoots a hand out, grabs Jimin’s hip, and pulls him down into his own lap with ease the second Jimin starts to make his way to Seokjin. Jimin doesn’t look that bothered.
“Hoseokie,” Jin says, ignoring Hoseok’s whine at the childish nickname. “You’re more than welcome to stay with me while you look.”
Hoseok lets one of his beautiful grins to come out. “It’s okay hyung! I actually saw a pretty legit ad and emailed the guy. We’re gonna meet up soon and talk. Actually, hyung... can we meet here? For safety.”
Jin sighs dramatically. “What, now I have to babysit your little date?” Hoseok tosses his head back and laughs. “Yes, of course, you idiot. Meet here.”
The next week, Hoseok comes into the cafe and sits at one of the two seat tables, facing away from the door, with a some crazy sweet caramel drink that Taehyung supplies him with and tips the drink in Seokjin’s general direction, mouthing the word roommate. Seokjin, actually manning the counter for once, winks back. Hoseok pulls out his phone and starts looking at something.
The door clinks open five minutes past twelve and one of the most paradoxical creatures that Seokjin has ever seen enters the cafe with an emotionless expression.
He’s cute, like super cute; sleepy cat eyes with a little bit of liner, dusty pink hair, lips that pout out, rolled up jeans that are a bit too big and little red tennis shoes. He has two shirts on, open plaid over a tucked in black tee, and he’s little. He’s not the smallest Seokjin has ever seen, but he’s short and very slim and he’s cute.
Then he rattles off some black coffee order in a slurry, deep voice with a calculating, icey eyes and hands over money in capable hands that could probably choke someone out, appraises Taehyung and Seokjin in two seconds flat each, turns around on his heel with a very polite thanks, and Seokjin is truly intimidated.
He looks over at Taehyung. Taehyung looks scared and turned on at the same time. Not a surprise.
Seokjin wonders what Sleepy Serial Killer is doing in his cafe, because he doesn’t seem to be sitting down. In fact, he seems to be surveying the cafe, like he’s looking for someone, and now he’s- oh, now he’s headed to Hoseok’s table, why would he....
Huh, Seokjin thinks. This will either go very well or very poorly.
It goes well. There’s some awkwardness- it’s gonna take a while for them to learn how to deal with each other, Seokjin can just sense- but Hoseok is his normal bright self and Sleepy Serial Killer, who Seokjin hears is actually named Yoongi, seems likable, if not restrained and a little traditional. Seokjin brings over a couple coffee refills, which Yoongi never fails to say thank you for, and through his little trips Seokjin learns that Yoongi is Hoseok’s hyung but not his, has a dog named Holly that Hoseok needs to like, and that there is one other roommate in the mix named Namjoon who apparently lets Yoongi make all the roommate decisions.
“I’m difficult,” Yoongi says, with a gummy smile. Seokjin falls a little bit in love. Just a little.
The meeting seems to be wrapping up, everything getting squared away with yes, come by, look at the place and Namjoon’s really nice and smart, just an idiot, you’ll like him that Seokjin isn’t really listening to, when the door chimes again and a very sweaty Jeon Jeongguk enters the cafe.
“Hey, hyungs,” he greets. “Um, may I have a- hyung?!”
Seokjin follows Jeongguk’s disbelieving expression to Yoongi’s face, who looks a little caught in the headlights as well. His mouth has dropped open a little bit.
“Kookie?” he asks. Taehyung cackles.
“Kookie!” he mouths. Jeongguk doesn’t even shoot him a glare, too busy staring at Yoongi. Jin puts the pieces together with a click.
“Wait, J.K.,” he starts, not believing it, “is Yoongi-ssi the new scary boyfriendJimin-ah was talking about?”
Jeongguk flushes a brilliant, lobster red. “He’s not my boyfriend!” he practically shouts. All the way across the room, Yoongi pouts.
“But you’ll go out with me, right?” he asks.
Seokjin’s jaw drops and then his, Taehyung and Hoseok’s heads all simultaneously swivel around to stare at Jeongguk.
“Well-I-” Jeongguk stammers. “Yes, but-”
Yoongi gummy grins. Jeongguk looks faint. Taehyung is biting Hoseok’s shoulder in a fit of glee.
Seokjin stifles a groan. His coffeeshop is a goddamn romance novel.
The week continues, with moving apartments and everyone meeting and Jeongguk blushing everytime Yoongi even looks at him.
Hoseok doesn’t have a lot of stuff at all, just some clothes and books and a couple boxes of sentimental items that he retrieves from his noonas house. He had sold almost everything before he went to America and it made the whole process of moving into the third bedroom of Yoongi and this “Namjoon’s” apartment much easier. Hoseok has met the elusive roomate and said that he’s “very tall and handsome,” but Seokjin has yet to prove the statement with his own eyes. After RM, he’s wary to trust very tall people.
Yoongi and Namjoon, it turns out, work for BigHit as well. Not full time - Yoongi is a freelance producer and Namjoon rents out a studio there for his own work, some of which he does sell to BigHit- but quite a lot and it’s one of the reasons that Hoseok moved into the apartment: it’s close to work and he and Yoongi go together in the mornings. When Hoseok says “close to work” he isn’t kidding: BigHit is literally one block down.
Everyone gets along well with Yoongi- Yoongi really likes having someone older than him around, Seokjin can tell, with the quiet way he obeys Seokjin and respects him and asks for advice, even after barely knowing him for a week. He smiles quietly behind Jimin and Taehyung’s backs when they do their married shit and if Yoongi and Jeongguk weren’t so whipped for eachother, Seokjin knows Hoseok would definitely be a little more interested. Jeongguk keeps blushing at random times when he looks at his phone and it only takes Seokjin a week to demand they all have a little party together.
At first it was going to happen in the cafe, but then Hoseok and Yoongi say it’s fine with Namjoon if they have it at their apartment, so Seokjin puts together some vegetarian food because fuck anyone who says vegetarian can’t be good and bakes a cake (he’s making a cake once a week to try and use up the Cosco flour bags) and struts his ass over to the Namyoonseok apartment.
Yoongi flings the door open wildly when he knocks, face a bit flushed, already a little tipsy. Not in a trashy way, just someone who knows how to have a good time. It’s the first time Seokjin has ever seen Yoongi so giddy and happy and free with his emotions- though that could be due to the oversized-bunny-looking-man-child that won’t stop backhugging him and giggling into Yoongi’s neck.
“Hyung!” Yoongi laughs. “Come in, please - you made cake. I’m going to write a love song in your honor.”
Jeongguk immediately whines. Yoongi placates him with a kiss to the temple and Jeongguk turns a nice, flaming red.
Seokjin toes his shoes off and goes into the little communal living room, where Jimin has already curled up on his husbands lap in a big armchair and Hoseok is trying to load DDR onto the Wii, shrieking.
Yoongi points to the couch. “There’s a space there, hyung.”
Seokjin nods and makes his way over, skirting past the fireplace where there is a photo on the mantle and-
Seokjin stares at the photo on the mantle.
“What the fuck?” He demands. Hoseok glances over. “Is that- it that RM?”
Taehyung squeaks and leaps up, throwing Jiminie of his lap, who lands on the floor with a curse. “No way!”
Yoongi blinks in surprise. “Yeah. You like rap music?” He laughs. “I didn’t expect that, hyung.”
Seokjin frowns. “What? No. Wait- I do, but that isn’t what- that’s RM. He comes into my cafe and gets leaves all over the floor every damn time!”
There's a beat of silence, and then Yoongi lets out a roaring laugh.
“Yep. Sounds like Joon-ah,” he cackles. “Hyung, RM is Kim Namjoon, our other roommate.”
Seokjin’s head implodes a bit. Coincidences like this are not supposed to happen in the real world.
“Wait- hang on,” Hoseok says through his laughs. “What’s this about leaves?
Seokjin stabs his finger at the picture, his voice shrilly. “This- this RM person - comes into my cafe all the time and he always tracks leaves in and breaks my mugs! I’ve lost three mugs to this man! Three! And the leaves! Every single time!” By this point, Yoongi is practically crying on Jeongguk’s lap. “How am I supposed to replace mugs that quickly? I have an aesthetic and it has to be perfect, I can’t just go buy cheap replacement mugs! He so- why is he like this?!
“Oh my God,” Yoongi says, still cackling with a gummy smile. “He’s supposed to be coming over, but I think he got held up at work. Why doesn’t hyung go chastise him?”
And that’s how Kim Seokjin finds himself stomping a block down to yell at a man he doesn’t know who won’t stop tracking leaves in his shop and breaking his mugs.
“Holy fucking shit,” this man-Namjoon-says. Seokjin suddenly feels a bit weak at this man’s voice. The studio is dark, lit only by a lamp, a very large computer, and the glowing buttons on a complicated recording system, but it isn’t so dark that Seokjin can’t make out the details of Namjoon’s face. “Who are you?”
Seokjin draws himself up to his full height, his expensive button up shirt smoothing out with the movement a little. It isn't buttoned up all the way, and he can feel the collar slipping down and revealing his sweaty clavicles, the product of speed walking in heavy fabric. There is a touch of sweat on his temples from hauling ass to the studio. “Jin,” he says. “I’m Jin! I own EatJin, I'm that Jin. You track leaves into my cafe all the time.”
Seokjin can see Namjoon staring at his collarbone. “I will definitely eat Jin,” Namjoon says absentmindedly, looking like he's in a slight trance. Seokjin’s jaw drops. Just a little bit.
“Oh,” says Seokjin, and actually looks at Namjoon, really looks: he's got crazy, intricate tattoo sleeves on both of his deep tan arms with what look like English words tattooed across his knuckles in black. Eyeliner is smudged on and under his beautifully shaped eyes, making them look even more deep-set and smokey. A black snapback is shoved over his messy bleached hair backwards and Seokjin wants to knock it off of his head and replace it with his hands. His wifebeater shows delicious flashes of bronze skin and Jin can see a couple more tattoos curled around his side, bright pigmented colors that Jin wants to lick. He's stretched out in a chair like royalty, looking like some kind of demon or tattooed representation of lust and Jin wants to die.
“You can definitely eat me,” Jin responds, dazed, and then immediately snaps his mouth shut when oh holy fuck i actually said that out loud, please kill mestarts running through his head at full speed.
Wincing from his blunder, he looks up again and meets Namjoon’s eyes.
Namjoon’s eyes flick back down to Jin’s collarbone and he grins, slow and wide and smug, like the cheshire cat.
Namjoon does not stop tracking leaves into EatJin and he does not stop breaking mugs. He does, however, allow Jin to steal his shirts and hoodies so Jin can achieve the Boyfriend look and is quite warm, which makes his presence very useful in winter. He can’t cook at all, but that only means that every time Jin cooks, he stares up at his plate like he just discovered God. He loses absolutely everything and sometimes forgets to slow down what he says in conversations to a level that ordinary people can understand, but he’s kind and cuddly and sweet and hot as hell and can do this one thing with his fingers that makes Jin sob.
It’s all good.