IF WE HIT ON
TROUBLED WATER
FOR Str0ng_P0wer_Thancc ( changed it up a lot, whoops sorry )
WORD COUNT 3.7k
OVERVIEW "when we were young, we were the ones". or where they're best friends, and one day they get sick of this town ( TW for homophobic slurs/mentions of abuse/mentions of self harm / heavily inspired by hayley kiyoko's 'what i need' mv & troye sivan's 'blue neighbourhood' trilogy / title from brother by kodaline )
PLAYLIST brother / kodaline, spring day / bts, summertime / my chemical romance
∆
NINE YEARS OLD. two fast-footed boys speed through the forest on the outskirts of town, laughter loud amongst them, hearts racing. hair flies, smiles wide, and they finally reach the spot they were running to, hunching over and breathing heavily, laughing all the while.
"i won!" min yoongi, gap toothed and scabby kneed, exclaimed with a proud smile, collapsing onto the ground with star-struck eyes. he grins at his best friend, who flops back onto the dewy grass with him, breathless laughter leaving his lips.
"i let you," kim namjoon, messy haired and glasses askew, replies, with the biggest dimples grin. yoongi pushes his shoulder with a laugh, and the two lie back, t-shirts wet with sweat. the sky is as devoid of clouds as their life is devoid of worries, and yoongi rests his head on namjoon's arm, gums on display as he can't stop smiling. "i'm serious, i let you!"
"sure, joonie," yoongi chuckles, looking up at the blue sky. their innocence is sweet, like cherubs in ripped jeans and stained t-shirts, black hair frizzy and cheeks sore from so much laughter. they're inseparable soulmates, sharing their whole lives since two years old, their old houses next to each other on the edge of the woods they've played in for seven years. yoongi looks over at his best friend, and namjoon is staring up at the sky, childish wonder in his eyes. "joonie?" he says, quiet, and the glasses wearing boy turns to face him. "wanna play kingdoms?"
namjoon nods eagerly, and the two get up, instantly in their roles, the same game they've played for the last year. kingdoms, where they're the princes of their own universe, kings of the world, this fantasy they've created inside the forest. namjoon voices their characters, gives them life, while yoongi makes them and names them, giving them their appearances. with imaginary golden armour and heavy sticks disguised as swords, they face every enemy and always come out on top; climbing into their castle, the treehouse namjoon's parents had helped make, they exchange stories about their beautiful fantasy.
"the dark king has sent messengers!" namjoon cries when a bird settles close to them, and he pretends to listen to the birds twittering, as if it were a language he was fluent in. yoongi looks on in silent awe of this prince with a tooth missing and a crown of messy hair. "yoongi! the bird says we must go to the enchanted creek and meet old man comet!"
the other disheveled prince is up on his feet in an instant, and they grab the crowns they'd woven, cramming them on their head. two pairs of old trainers step down the shaky ladder, and suddenly they're running on pine needle carpeted forest floors, identical grins on their faces, sure their youth will last forever, as they hold hands and jump over logs and get to the creek that has the most rickety bridge ever, to meet with the wisest man in their fantasy land, breathless as ever.
they feel invincible. every child does.
three years later. one of our makeshift princes sits alone, by the rickety bridge creek, back to a tree. there's tears on his cheeks that mingle with rainwater, and a bruise on his left eye that he doesn't know how to disguise.
min yoongi sits with a hurt heart and head full of painful words, legs crossed as he stares at his shoes, rattier than any other kid's at school. with a shaky sigh, he wonders how long namjoon will take to get here; he texted him around ten minutes ago, but his best friend has been busy studying recently, who knows when he'll check his phone.
namjoon and yoongi remained as inseparable as ever. now in their first year of middle school, they've been there through the exams they had to take the year before– when namjoon had convinced yoongi he wouldn't fail, and yoongi had stayed up all night studying with namjoon–; they've been there for each other through yoongi's parents having their third child, a baby girl, and them paying even less attention to yoongi; they've been there. always. blood brothers, that's what they are, united by a force stronger than family. the woods continued to be their fortress, childhood games and treehouse never forgotten, just left alone. twelve years old, they still laugh about their kingdom and their fake royalty, still have the carved swords and the crowns; they've just abandoned those games for long talks in their very much improved treehouse.
footsteps and raindrops make yoongi look up, black hair that's overgrown falling in his eyes. there he stands, the boy yoongi would die for, if asked. namjoon smiles momentarily, and then he sees the bruise. "yoon!" he says, dropping to his knees; worried. yoongi flinches when namjoon runs his finger over the bruise, a small whimper leaving his lips. "what happened?"
yoongi's reluctant to say it, because it's pathetic; my dad hit me because i won't go out with samira from our grade, and he's really good friends with her dad and that means that i'm socially dead– no, he won't tell namjoon. a simple shake of the head is all the taller gets, and joon sighs.
"you've gotta be cold, hyung. you want my coat?" he asks, and the older (by a few months) nods, taking namjoon's fleece that he's wearing over a hoodie. namjoon helps him up and tosses an arm over his shoulder, the two of them looking over the creek.
"joon," yoongi croaks out, pale, exhausted from crying all night over what his mum said and what his dad did. namjoon looks over, that trusting look in his eyes that he's always had when he looks at yoongi. he squeezes yoongi's hand. "i– i– god, sorry," he rubs at his eye with the heel of his hand, sighing. "you know oh samira? from our class?"
"yes, she's in my chemistry club," namjoon confirms, never taking his eyes from yoongi's face. the older worries his lips between his teeth. "why?"
"well, my dad works with her dad at the garage, and recently mr. oh has been helping him out a lot," yoongi swallows thickly, throat blocked by something that's not really there. "a-and apparently samira has a crush on m-me, and dad wa-wanted me to go on a date with her this weekend," yoongi closes his eyes shut so as not to cry, sensitive about the subject. "i s-said no because i don't like samira t-that way, a-and my p-parents just– fuck."
it's the first time he's ever sworn, and namjoon doesn't even react. he pulls yoongi into a tight hug, letting the boy cry into his shoulder, understanding that he's having a hard time. yoongi is gasping out sentences. "m-my dad– called me a f-f-fucking fa-faggot, a-and slapped me, said i-i was no u-use as a son–" he breaks off, and namjoon holds him tight.
"yoongi, yoongi," he says soothingly, patting his friends back. "you're okay. it's gonna be okay, i swear." namjoon's always been good at that, at comforting. yoongi feels oddly safe in his arms, holding him as if he'll break apart. yoongi can almost believe his honey coated words, almost know that he'll be okay.
he barely registers namjoon asking him to dinner at his place, but he nods absentmindedly in agreement; he can't think of anywhere else he'd rather be. with his hand holding namjoon's tightly, they cross the bridge from their fantasy world into their reality, where yoongi's not so sure he likes girls and namjoon's not entirely sure whether he's straight or not, where yoongi's parents are assholes and namjoon's mum is the nicest person yoongi's ever met, back where yoongi's bullied for being scruffy and namjoon stopped wearing glasses because they've been broken by bullies three times. back to reality, where nothing except their friendship seems perfect.
x
fourteen years old and there's a razorblade in namjoon's hand. not his. stained in blood; also not his. fourteen years old and yoongi sits on the floor of his bathroom, sobbing, blood on his wrist and guilt in his eyes. he can't stop apologising, and his eyes follow the razor as namjoon drops it into the toilet, flushing it.
"never again, hyung," he says firmly, kneeling down and taking yoongi's hand, pressing a kiss to the scars yoongi's hidden for so long. "never. again. yes?"
yoongi nods. he's battered; his left eye is bruised, his lip is split, and namjoon knows there's bruises on his back and ribs, flourishing in shades of purple and blue. the eye and lip are from his dad. ribs and back are school bullies. both for the same reason, the same pathetic reason, and namjoon wants to hurt them as bad as they've hurt his yoongi. fourteen years old, and he's never had this strong a bond with anyone.
"i love you, namjoon," yoongi sobs out, holding namjoon's hand tight. he's so broken, but namjoon can fix him, fix him and keep him smiling and happy because that's what best friends do and that's what yoongi needs right now. namjoon smiles weakly through the pain of seeing his best friend like this, holding yoongi's hand tight.
"i-i love you too, hyung."
they're in yoongi's house. his parents and sisters are all out, and the two are skipping school, and yoongi just wants to lie with namjoon and talk to him because he has some shit he needs to get out. the attic is where yoongi sleeps; he and namjoon collapse onto the bed after the younger bandages up his wrists, the wounds stinging like hell, but yoongi feels like he deserves it.
the newly dyed blonde's hair falls into his eyes as he turns to face namjoon, their faces inches apart, eyes meeting. namjoon takes his hand; warm, inviting. yoongi sighs, tangling their legs in such a way that their bodies feel intertwined. "joon, i... i need to talk to you," he mumbles out, and namjoon nods, understanding his hyung wants him to be quiet so he can speak. yoongi takes a shuddered breath.
"i-i'm gay, namjoonie. a-and that's why my dad hits me. he t-threatened to k-kill me." yoongi doesn't cry, but he wants to. namjoon just pulls him quietly closer, so they can breath each other, knowing that their childhood sense of innocence and being young forever is gone, replaced instead by bitter reality that is like a slap to the face. but they're both prepared for that harsh reality, there to comfort each other when they know for certain life isn't all rainbows and happiness and playing for hours. namjoon looks at yoongi with nothing less than pure adoration in his eyes, before speaking.
"i-i'm gay too, yoon," he breathes out. yoongi's eyes widen, bright and excited, and an exhausted laugh leaves namjoon's lips. "to think, i was so worried about coming out to you."
"you had no reason to be worried, joon, i'd accept you no matter what," yoongi says, and the truth in his voice is all namjoon needs. "so..." yoongi's teasing now, as if namjoon hadn't had to bandage up his wrists. he has his ups and downs, every teenager does, but, like every teenager, he bounces back almost instantly. "you got your eye on anyone, joonie?"
namjoon chuckles softly, stating up at the sky through yoongi's skylight with a content expression. "ah, well... you know that park kid from the year below? with the cute smile and the stripy sweater?"
"yeah... jimin, right?" yoongi only remembers his name because his older sister is named the same, and everyone confuses the two, which annoys min jimin to no end. namjoon nods, dreamy, and yoongi notes how their hands are still intertwined.
"yeah... i dunno though. he's probably straight," namjoon laughs, turning to face yoongi again, dimples on display as he smiles. "how about you, hyung?"
yoongi could make someone up. he has to make someone up. has to pretend like there's no way he has a crush on the human angel lying next to him, pretend like he hasn't thought about kissing namjoon and that's what brings him to cutting, has to pretend like his father doesn't want the two to hang out because he "knows it's more than just a friendship". has to lie through his teeth.
"oh, no one," yoongi says dismissively. "dad would kill me–"
the door to yoongi's house opening can be heard, and the sound of his father's gruff voice and heavy footsteps is like a warning bell to yoongi's ears. he looks at namjoon, namjoon looks at him, and in silent agreement they keep quiet and carefully get under yoongi's bed, knowing that mr. min has probably received a phone call from the school saying that his son is missing. that's one hit with the belt or one slap to the face, if yoongi's lucky and he's not in a worse mood. namjoon grips his hand tightly as they hear him come up to the second floor; the walls in yoongi's house are so thin you can hear everything.
"good for nothing lousy faggot... not even my fuckin' son... should've kicked him out the moment he turned thirteen..." mr. min mumbles threateningly, and the two boys shift closer to each other, breathing as quietly as they can as they hear him walk up the ladder. yoongi practically clings to namjoon like he's a safety blanket, his dad's footsteps like thunder. he's in yoongi's room now, still mumbling, and yoongi clenches his eyes shut, glad that his sheets drape over the side of his bed and obscure any view of the underneath.
mr. min leaves soon enough, grumbling like some storybook troll, but only when they hear the door slam shut in anger do they breath normally. yoongi feels hot tears on his cheeks, tears of fear, and namjoon's thumb brushes them away gently. yoongi is so afraid of his parents, it's so wrong in namjoon's mind. the older boy shakes in namjoon's grip, sobbing into his shoulder; he can't breathe right, and namjoon understands that he's having a panic attack.
"yoon, yoon, you're okay, breathe," he tries his best to comfort and hold him through it, the blonde's breathing too quick. "your dad's gone. i'm here. you're alright, just breathe in through your nose."
yoongi tries, fear and guilt clogging up his throat, head and heart pounding. namjoon whispers sweet things into his ears, and it was then that yoongi knew he had definitely fallen for the younger. namjoon's scent, his feel, his heartbeat, it was all scarily familiar, and yoongi just knew he wanted him close forever. he wanted to know how namjoon's lips would feel against his, the lips that have never been kissed (namjoon had bagged his first kiss at eleven, with some girl he didn't particularly like), and maybe yoongi wondered what sleeping tangled in namjoon's arms would feel like, or what songs namjoon would dub 'theirs', or whether namjoon would ever like him back.
he pushes his worries away for the golden hearted boy with crooked glasses, just so they can lie in his bed and talk about nothing.
just for a bit longer, he thinks. a bit longer, and maybe i can have him.
∆
LATE JUNE IN THE SEVENTEENTH year of kim namjoon's life, and min yoongi is once again at his house, smoking sat in his window; normality. the now black haired boy sighs bitterly, throwing his cigarette out into the grass, ringed fingers running through haphazard curls. namjoon sits at his desk, writing, while a calm, indie acoustic record plays in the background.
peaceful.
they've changed quite a bit, yoongi supposed. he's stopped with the razorblades, started standing up for himself; he lives at the kim's now, after his dad kicked him out at fifteen, and he and namjoon are closer than brothers. namjoon's changed too; he's dating lee minhyuk, the cute, cheerleader-type boy with the soft brown hair hair, and he's started writing poetry, which yoongi reads and finds fascinating, that his friend's mind can come up with such beauty. he would be jealous of minhyuk, but he really can't be; he knows namjoon better than the brunette will ever know. they're more than brothers, more than friends, they're connected in a way some friends aren't.
namjoon's nose wrinkles at the smell of cigarette smoke; he hates that habit, but he'll put up with it for yoongi. "what're you writing, maestro?" yoongi asks, pianists fingers tapping a tune on namjoon's windowsill. the now purple haired boy shrugs.
"just... something," he says, looking away from the paper, before handing it to yoongi. "give it a read, will you?"
yoongi takes the paper, and reads the messy hangul that only he seems to be accustomed to; even minhyuk complained that his boyfriend's handwriting is too messy.
i want to be a good man,
just for you.
i gave you the whole world,
just for you.
now i don't know me,
who are you?
yoongi gulps slightly at the words, wondering who they're directed at. he reads them over again, before his eyes skip to the second poem. it's longer, but yoongi would read a whole 1000 page novel if namjoon requested.
the world is a complex,
i was looking for love,
i was just one of those people;
just said i wanted to be in love like a habit.
but i found myself,
the whole new myself...
i'm confused,
which one's the real me?
did you figure out that i'm a book
before i met you?
or did you turn my page?
damn.
yoongi comes to the terrifying conclusion that these words are directed towards namjoon's boyfriend. minhyuk is one of the popular boys, and namjoon... isn't. he and yoongi were the bottom of the food chain until minhyuk asked namjoon out, and suddenly they were sitting with the popular kids they've always hated. namjoon changes around that crowd, and yoongi knows that; he becomes less nerdy, ditches his glasses for contacts, makes jokes and talks about celebrities he doesn't like. yoongi saw him biting his lip last week when yeri was talking about how much of a good guy kanye west is, unaware of how he supports trump. namjoon hates that crowd, and these poems show it.
"joon..." yoongi says, looking his best friend in the eye. "you've changed yourself, you know that."
namjoon nods dejectedly. "i-i wanna break up with minhyuk, but i don't want everyone to hate me," he admits sheepishly. yoongi sighs, getting down from the window and wrapping his arms around his friend, sitting on namjoon's lap. "god, why did i ever say yes to him." namjoon says, regret clear as day in his voice.
"you liked him then," yoongi shrugs. "he's not the right guy, namjoon. none of them are right for you, none of them deserve your brilliance."
"you know, minhyuk wanted me to stop hanging out with you," namjoon says sadly, playing with the rings on his fingers. yoongi raises an eyebrow, shifting so he's sitting sideways across namjoon's thighs. "really?" he asks, not being able to believe namjoon's boyfriend would do that. namjoon nods.
"yeah, really. said i hung out with you too much, that you were weird," namjoon shakes his head in disbelief. "said it was like i was dating you rather than him. god, he can be such a bitch."
yoongi nods in agreement. he's never really liked minhyuk. yoongi likes being selfish, having namjoon to himself, and that's why the selfish suggestion comes to his mind and slips out of his lips,
"what if we leave?"
namjoon blinks, baffled.
"what?"
yoongi's smiling now, mischievous. "what if we leave? you've got a car, i can drive. let's just fucking go. leave behind my shitty parents and your asshole boyfriend and everything about this town that sucks. i would've done it years ago but i knew you wouldn't want to. what do you say, joon?"
namjoon bites his lip, unsure. in fact, the only thing he's really sure of is the fact that he really wants to kiss the nicotine scented boy in his lap, and maybe he's willing to run away with him. maybe the ache in his chest can be cured by a long highway drive and a freedom to love min yoongi, maybe stealing his parent's vintage car they'd given him the keys to is a solution to the heartache. maybe.
namjoon's had enough of maybes. so he smiles, says fuck it, and responds.
"i'll go anywhere as long as i'm with you."
yoongi smiles, and then they're running, running through namjoon's empty house down to the cupboard under the stairs, to grab the suitcases they'll pack their lives into. in goes clothing, cds, books, all the things that are previous to them. namjoon wears the ring yoongi gave him on his sixteenth birthday around his neck on a silver chain; yoongi wears it on his finger, glinting in the sunlight. namjoon takes one last look at his room, quickly taking the small pot of all the cash he's ever had, and yoongi does the same. a packet of cigarettes and yoongi's lucky lighter, headphones and phone charges, they all go in, and their breathing is fast and their minds are giddy. they're leaving, they're really leaving. yoongi intertwines their fingers like he always does, and walking down to the garage, he takes a look at the exhilarating euphoria on namjoon's face, and he grins, properly grins.
"let's get outta here, yeah?" yoongi says, just confirming namjoon's okay. the boy grabs the keys for the lovely vintage-style corvette, and nods.
"let's."
an hour later, and the two of them are on the hot open road with a tank full of gas, a waterparks album in the cd player, and heads full of dizzying daydreams. yoongi loves being behind the wheel, and namjoon loves riding with him, his feet propped up on the dash and the wind pushing back his purple hair, white shirt rippling in the same current. yoongi can't stop grinning, because finally, they're getting out of there. namjoon's phone keeps blowing up with calls from minhyuk, but he blocks the number and throws it back into his bag, no fucks given.
"there's a diner in like half a mile, wanna stop for food?" yoongi asks, because it's nearing five in the afternoon and he knows namjoon's probably hungry. the younger nods, with a mile wide grin on his face. yoongi presses down on the accelerator, wind in his face and he feels so alive. they feel alive, and free, and yoongi could kiss namjoon breathless if they weren't doing 65 down the highway. maybe another time might just work.
∆
030618
doing this rather than studying for my art exam u know i'm boutta fail that shit
jikook is next yeet!
love y'all
– jace