He’s not sure how it got to this, really— then again, it isn’t entirely inconceivable, and the moment he saw how upset his best friend actually was, he said ‘fuck it’ to his normal inhibitions and slumped into the chair next to him, accepting the bottle passed to him. He’s always had good senses with these kinds of things, and he knows a man who needs a drink when he sees one.
Namjoon intended to stop after a certain point, but they both ended up talking about a lot of things that were frustrating them— Yoongi, about Jimin. Namjoon, about the stress of being leader and how much shit they were in with the manager hyungs, and how much of a relief it is to finally be out with Jin. Before they knew it, the first bottle was drained and they were slumped against each other, Namjoon’s breaths a little raspy from his fever.
They were supposed to be in here to practice, but that just didn’t happen.
He makes an idle glance at the bottle in his hand, mostly empty, before holding it up to the fellow rapper, a question in his expression. “Y’wanna finish it, or should I?”