akunemayo

Worldwide Ego: Call me 4 missed calls from WorldWide Ego

You called him back, a little annoyed. He picked up right away, on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Hello?"

The voice on the line wasn't Seokjin. It was Yoongi.

Your feet were frozen to the spot, your hands shaking.

"Hello?" He said again.

"Yoongi?" you whispered.

"It's you. Y/N." His voice broke. "Can you… do you… are you free? I… I need to talk to you. I need to see you."

Your world was spinning, but you managed to choke out, "Okay. I can. Um. You can come to my apartment? I could go over there."

"I'll come over. Seokjin-hyung knows where, right?"

"Yeah."

"See you soon." He hung up, and your legs, still shaking, folded and sat yourself down on your couch. See you soon.

You were still sitting there when the doorbell rang. You hadn't changed out of your work clothes, brushed your hair, anything. When you got up to open the door, it felt like you were doing it in a dream.

He looked like what you expected him to look like, and not at the same time. You haven't been living under a rock; you'd seen pictures of him before. But it was different seeing him in person. You remembered him as perpetually twenty, with plump cheeks and ever-changing dyed hair. At thirty, his face was a touch longer; he was slimmer and his face had lost the last of that baby fat. He was holding a big paper bag, with tissue paper at the top. 

Yoongi fidgeted when you scrutinized him, just a little bit. "Can I come in?" he asked hoarsely.

You stepped aside to let him in. "Hi."

"Hi." When he smiled, for a second, it was like those seven years had never passed.

You stood there awkwardly for a moment. "You look…"

"Different?"

"A little," you admitted. "I don't know what to say."

"I don't either." He laughed, just a little. "And I've been dreaming of this for so long."

You sucked in a breath. "You didn't…"

"Forget about you?" He stepped closer. "Not for a second."

"You're a bigshot celebrity now," you mumbled. "I thought maybe…"

Yoongi's eyes were intense. "Everything I did, every song I made and concert I performed at. They were all for you. It was all so I could get back to you."

"I missed you," you confessed. The words almost hurt to say, like you were ripping out the very lining of your existence, finally letting yourself say the words you'd been keeping to yourself for seven years. "So much."

"I missed you too." There were tears glistening in Yoongi's eyes. "Can I touch you?"

In response, you wrapped your arms around him, eyes starting to burn too. He dropped the bag and tilted your face up to him, a silent question in his eyes. You nodded, and he kissed you, like he really had been waiting every second of the past seven years for it.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, holding you tighter. "I'm sorry I let you leave. I'm sorry I never called."

"You made it," you replied. "I wanted to tell you so many times how proud I was of you. How I knew you would make it." You looked up at him. "I knew the world would love you."

"You loved me first."

"Hey." You laid your hand against his cheek, as you'd done years ago. "If you're here now, that means we can be together now, right?"

Yoongi smiled. "As long as you want me." His expression darkened. "I should have come sooner. Said fuck the company, left them, or caused a scandal. It shouldn't have mattered to me. Instead, I kept fucking waiting. I was so scared that maybe you'd moved on already."

"I never moved on," you told him softly. "I knew you would come back."

He winced. "Yeah… I'm sorry about that, too. I should have let you go, get over it, be happy with someone else." Yoongi brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes. "I just couldn't bring myself to. I had to believe there was a chance."

"I tried," you admitted. "Last year, it just seemed like so much time had passed… my friends set me up on blind dates. But every guy I met was disappointing. I found myself looking at them and comparing them to you. Like your ghost kept following me around." You looked away, feeling ashamed. "I should have just waited."

"I tried the same," he responded. "Not that I was allowed to date until… literally yesterday, actually. But I tried looking at other girls, trying to feel something for anyone else." He met your eyes. "And all I felt was… why weren't they you?"

"And now you are?" you asked. "Allowed to date, that is."

"I am," Yoongi said. "We're negotiating for the contract renewal, and I finally have enough leverage to remove the dating ban from the contract." He tilted his head at you. "So… would you like to go on a date with me?"

You raised your eyebrows at him, playfully unimpressed. "I kind of expected more. Shouldn't there be flowers, or something?"

He grinned, picking up the big gift bag he'd brought, and pulled a giant bouquet of peonies and lilies out of it. "What do you think this is?"

June 2023 (8 years later)

You liked to think you knew a lot about your boyfriend. You remembered the foods he liked, and how exactly he liked them. You remembered his all-day sleep marathons, his grumpy and anxious and happy moods. 

Of course, he was different now than when he was twenty two. New hobbies, new interests, new memories that you'd missed—but at the core, he was still the same boy you fell in love with, caring and gentle. The biggest difference was, the Yoongi you knew had carried more anger, more sadness. Now, he seemed almost at peace in comparison.

His fame and money were a pretty damn big change, too. Seokjin never shied away from spoiling you—or any of your family—but for some reason it was different when you had a boyfriend who could make more in a week than you could in months. Yoongi was shameless—it was like he spent all his free time picking out flowers, horrifically expensive dinners, makeup, jewelry, and dresses for you. He paid attention to everything, too: you'd scrolled through listings for electric keyboards in front of him once and a few days later, one of the top of the line models you'd been looking at appeared in the living room. He took note of the expressions you made while you ate, and surprised you with takeout from your favourite places, favourite snacks, and home-cooked versions of your favourite meals.

"It makes me feel guilty when you spend so much money on me," you confessed one day, curled up on the couch with him after work.

Yoongi frowned. "Baby, I made that money to spend on you. And trust me, I have more than enough to do this."

"Yeah, but… I feel like we should be, I don't know, fiscally responsible," you protested weakly.

"Listen, that's all taken care of. If you want to know about it, I can get you a meeting with our financial advisor." He met your eyes. "But I have the feeling that's not your real concern."

You sighed. "I just feel like… I'm using you. Like you're spending money on me that I can't return, that I never made."

Yoongi took your hand. "You're not using me. I want to give you everything, and I made every won in my bank account for you." He smiled. "So don't let that effort go to waste."

You subsided, a little helplessly. But that night you thought about it.

In truth, you hardly enjoyed your job copywriting. It was long, miserable work with little fulfillment, but it made money.

Sometimes you thought about all the things, all the dreams and opportunities you'd given up for that money, scared of what would happen without it, desperate to feel "successful".

Now, that money functionally meant nothing. You could quit your job and never work a day in your life. You could open a bakery, or move out to the countryside and start farming, or try real estate and house flipping. All the doors that were open to you now were frightening. 

But the truth was, it wasn't really money that had kept you locked into that life. After all, your brother would have helped you through anything you wanted to do.

It was terrifying to think that maybe you'd made a mistake. That you'd made a wrong turn and lost your way, wasted the last four years being profoundly unhappy for very little return and reason. Moreover, it was hard for you to accept money you'd never made—as the younger sister to a world famous celebrity brother, you'd wanted to make your own way, prove your worth.

But some of Yoongi's words stuck with you, and at work your mind kept drifting away.

A few days later, you called Seokjin.

"Hello hello," he singsonged. "What's new?"

"I'm dating a rich man."

You heard him sigh over the phone. "I said, what's new?"

"Well, I kind of realized what that actually means."

"Uh huh?"

"I can just quit my job and do whatever the hell I want."

"Right." He sounded confused. "What's wrong?"

"I feel so bad taking Yoongi's money," you admitted. "Even for the little things. I can't ask him to fully support me while I go figure out what I want to do with my life."

"I think you could ask him for a lot."

"That's the problem. I don't want to ask him for a lot."

There were a few moments of silence. "Listen, think of it like this. Long term couples usually combine their finances, right?"

"Yeah?"

"You're doing that. And now your household, you and him, have enough money to do things that benefit you both."

You scoffed. "How does quitting my job benefit Yoongi?"

"It'd make you happy," he replied bluntly. "It benefits Yoongi a lot to make you happy."

"Huh." You sat there in silence for a second. "That… kind of makes sense."

"Am I a genius, or what? Jin-ius!" He laughed at his own joke.

"Ugh. I'm hanging up."

Bonus…

It was late, but Seokjin's apartment was still lit brightly. He'd been awake when Yoongi showed up for late night drinks and advice.

"I'm fucking terrified, to be honest," Yoongi continued, fingers nervously tapping the marble counter. "What if your parents don't approve of me, hyung?"

Seokjin waved it off. "You know they like you."

"Yeah, as your best friend, not as their daughter's husband," he retorted.

"My dad will be thrilled." Seokjin took a sip of his gin and tonic. "Mom, on the other hand, will think it's too soon."

Yoongi slumped. "It feels like I've been waiting to marry her for a decade at this point. And you know I wanted to before I enlist."

"I know," Seokjin agreed. "I'm just saying, you were together for only about a year, then broken up for seven. They're gonna wonder if you really know each other."

"I know her better than anyone else." Yoongi gazed off dreamily. "I want to be with her for the rest of my life."

"Listen, tell her, not me," Seokjin said, rolling his eyes. "Just ask her if you want to marry her. She'll say yes."

August 2023 (8 years 2 months later)

"You've gotten a lot better at cooking." You peered into the pan, amused. "Did you learn this because I left?"

Yoongi looked mildly offended. "I could cook for myself even before you came into my life."

"That's definitely a lie, because I caught you blending chicken breast, bananas, and grape juice once," you retorted.

Seokjin walked into the kitchen, picking a bit of beef out of the pan. "Lucky you only caught him once. I saw him do that a lot during our trainee days."

"I didn't ask you guys to come over," Yoongi grumbled. "I wanted to have a nice dinner with my girlfriend and instead I get six guys descending on my house like a plague of locusts." He eyed Jin's hand, creeping closer to the pan again.

You smiled. "Be nice. They haven't seen me much in a while."

"I haven't seen you much in a while," he whined.

Taehyung popped into the kitchen. "Are we ready to eat, hyung?"

"Yeah, go set out some plates." He sighed. "They're millionaires and still asking me to make them dinner."

"You like doing it," Seokjin pointed out.

"Shut up."

You laughed, and it came so much more easily than it had before. It was hard to believe, looking around, that this life belonged to you. Hard enough to believe that you were standing in a multimillion dollar kitchen, owned by one of Korea's biggest celebrities—but it was more than that. It was definitely hard to believe that the same man who'd worked as a delivery guy was now a world famous celebrity. But the truth was, you'd waited and yearned for so long that the fact that you were dating him now, with nothing standing in the way, was what was really hard to believe. Not the money or the fame; just looking at him and thinking he was yours, no tricks or lies, felt truly unreal.

"What's with that smile?" Yoongi asked you.

"Just thinking about how happy you make me."

He blushed a little, taking your hand. "I love you."

"I love you more."

"Oh, get a room," Seokjin interrupted, pretending to gag.

"Go set the table," you snapped, pushing him away.

"Remember, have safe sex, kids," Seokjin sniped as he left with his bundle of cutlery.

You sighed. "And you've been spending every day with this guy and not me?"

"Not my fault." Yoongi grinned, pulling you in by the waist. "You know I would have traded him for you any day."

"Heard that," Seokjin called.

Yoongi was plating the food, beef bulgogi and rice. "For you, though, I'll endure it." He winked.

You rolled your eyes. "What's gotten into you? You're so corny."

"Just happy to be with my girl." He took your hand, pressing a kiss to the palm. 

"Stop flirting and let's eat," Hoseok shouted, to a round of laughter from the other boys.

"Demanding assholes," Yoongi said fondly. "Go sit down, I'll bring the food out."

Late that night, you were curled up on the little sofa in Yoongi's studio, drowsily trying to read as he worked. You'd only stopped by to bring him dinner, but he looked so focused that you'd decided to stay, hoping he would notice at some point that you were still here, and feel obligated to go home at a decent hour. The book you'd brought was drifting in and out of focus before your eyes, letters blurring. 

You yawned, and he startled. "Oh, Y/N. I'm sorry, I forgot you were here."

"That's okay. Are we going soon?" You yawned again.

Yoongi's eyes softened. "We're going home right now."

Home. After you'd spent your twenties bouncing from one sterile, empty apartment to apartment, trying to find some satisfaction in soulless job after soulless job, home was a delightful word. You remembered all the nights you'd come back from working late to find your apartment dark and silent; each empty room, each blank contact on your phone a reminder that something was missing in your life. Knowing you were going home with him, finally, was a comforting warmth that bubbled up in your chest.

In the car, you dozed a little against his shoulder, sleeping and waking. The city lights blurred outside the window, flashing by. You faintly felt him kiss your forehead, stroke your hair as you slept.

It wasn't far, and he woke you softly. "Come on, let's go sleep in our own bed."

"Baby, can I tell you something?" you mumbled, unbuckling your seatbelt.

"Mm?"

"I hate my job."

"You do?" he murmured. "Quit."

"Been considering it," you told him, as he held the building door open for you. "But what am I going to do then?"

Yoongi hummed, guiding you into the elevator. "Well, you could never work a day in your life again, if you want. Just be my wife."

"What would I do all day while you're gone?" you ask him, still groggy.

"You could get another job, then." He led you out of the elevator. "Whatever you want to do."

"You know, I wanted to be a music teacher when I was younger." You frown. "I don't know why I never did it. Somewhere back then…" you yawned. "I got scared about all the things people were talking about. About cars, houses, salaries, and stuff."

"I remember you used to look happy when you talked about teaching. Why don't you go for it?"

You pondered this. "I can really do that? Just do whatever I want?"

Yoongi opened the apartment door. "Of course you can."

"I'm… going to try that then."

He smiled at you. "Alright." He was getting changed, laying out a set of pajamas for you too. You sat up and started struggling into them.

Yoongi kissed your forehead. "Are we done making big decisions for today?"

"Definitely." You crawled under the covers. "Night."

"Night." He yawned, too, wrapping his arms around you. "Love you."

"Love you too," you mumbled drowsily, starting to drift off again. Sleep had almost claimed you when your brain finally finished working through everything you'd heard earlier, and you sat up. "Wait, be your wife?"

September 2023 (8 years 3 months later)

You rubbed your hand over his shaved head, giggling. "You look so dumb."

"Dumb?" Yoongi pretended offense. "Is that really what you want to call your big, strong soldier husband?"

"You're basically a desk jockey. I don't know about big and strong," you teased. 

He rolled his eyes. "I'm a government worker, not a desk jockey. It's a very important distinction," he said, mock-seriously.

In his uniform, fresh from boot camp, his head shaved, he looked so sweet that you threw your arms around him. "I'm glad you're back. I missed you."

He stroked your hair. "I missed you too."

"It's selfish, but I'm so glad you don't have to do traditional service," you confessed, face still buried in his shoulder.

"To be honest, me too," he admitted. "I feel bad, knowing the other boys are struggling right now. Namjoon especially. But I'm still relieved I avoided it myself."

You sighed. "I'm just glad to have you back."

Only a year together since you'd been married, and already Yoongi had been called away for boot camp and military service. While he was gone, you'd missed him tremendously.

Your mother had worried over the speed of your relationship, when you were engaged. "It's only been a year," she'd fretted. "How much do you really know about this man?"

"You like him, Mom. You know he's a good man," you'd protested.

"My darling," she'd said. "I know he's good, but I can't know for sure if he's good for you."

Now, although she still shook her head doubtfully, saying a year of marriage was too soon to tell, even she could see how good Yoongi had been for you. 

East to smile, easy  to laugh, you looked and felt more content than you had in years. It helped that you adored being a music teacher, but in large part it was Yoongi's constant love that had you so happy.

There had been arguments; nights he hadn't wanted to leave the studio, petty late night fights and misunderstandings. But in every fight, there came a point where he would reach out and take your hand, and suddenly, all the anger would melt away.

"It doesn't feel right with the other boys." Yoongi continued, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I've been around them so much that it feels weird going so long without seeing them."

"Twenty more months," you reassured him. "Then our family can be all together again."

The next few months were blissfully peaceful. With the media's attention turned away (except for a certain scooter accident that you and Yoongi had laughed over), life was luxuriously quiet. Yoongi went to work and came back home in the evening, like a regular office worker; you liked to pack his lunches and have dinner ready like you were a regular office worker's wife. It made you realize just how much you enjoyed the private life. 

As Suga, Yoongi was always scrutinized. Although he tried to keep you and his personal life private, there were limits. After all, he wasn't some D-list celebrity; he was a member of BTS—a household name on posters and billboards and snack packaging all over Korea. People were inevitably curious about who you were and what you were like. You'd accepted this as part and parcel of being with him.

But living with Yoongi when he got to just be Min Yoongi all the time was so unexpectedly nice. He never had to leave for back-to-back flights, run off to late night shootings, or take calls about last minute TV appearances. Part of you wished it would never end, but the other half knew that music was his calling, part of him.

A few weeks after your brother was discharged, he came over for lunch while Yoongi was at "work". You'd waited until the main course—mulwhe—was gone to bring up your feelings.

"I can't tell him to give it up," you told Seokjin softly. "But it's so nice when everything's…"

"Normal?" he supplied. "I get it. And he must feel that way too. None of us have had such a long stretch of normal life since… well, since we became BTS."

You sighed wistfully. "These days, he leaves in the morning and comes back at dinner time, goes to bed at ten. No more tours, long flights, late nights… I always hated how demanding his schedule was."

Your brother nodded sympathetically. "It's rough for us, but for the people we love, too…" He took a sip of his coffee. "Haven't talked about it with Hoseok's girlfriend, either, but I bet she feels the same."

"It feels wrong to wish we could just keep living like this." You frowned, frustrated. "But I can't help it."

"It's natural. Honestly, I didn't know Yoongi could function without work."

You laughed, then sighed. "He can't. I think he's counting down the days until he gets discharged."

"Is it a dealbreaker?" Seokjin asked quietly.

"What is?"

He shrugged. "That being with him comes with… everything that it does. Is that a dealbreaker for you?"

"No? Of course not." You were aghast. "I love him. Enough that I can put up with it."

Seokjin leaned back, relieved. "That's good. You guys have come a little far for that."

You rolled your eyes. "You think?"

"Plus, Mom would spend forever saying she told you so if you divorced him."

"Don't even say that," you replied, shuddering. "I can already imagine it."

June 2025 (epilogue)

Yoongi pulled you closer, his arm around your waist. His thumb rubbed absentminded circles against your waist as he took a sip of his drink.

"It's the mastery tracks for the new album," he continued. "We always have Namjoon do it but there's no reason we can't have someone else come in and do it…"

You yawned, eyes drooping closed. The other Bangtan boys, Hoseok's girlfriend, and Jungkook's girlfriend were scattered around your living room, an unofficial post-military service celebration.

It was good, having everyone all together for the first time in a long time. Yoongi would be formally discharged in a few weeks, and things would fall into the hectic rhythm you'd had to get used to.

Slowly, you'd started getting used to the idea that Yoongi would soon return to that world of celebrity, where you couldn't follow.

"I'm going to have to start sharing you with other people soon," you'd told him a few months ago, only half jokingly.

He'd kissed your palm, and said, "If you don't want to, should I quit? You can have me all to yourself." He wasn't entirely serious, you knew; but he wasn't entirely unserious either. If you told him it was a real concern, you knew he would at least seriously consider giving up being an idol.

"You can't quit," you teased, instead. "You have no marketable skills."

Yoongi pouted. "That's not true. I have music."

Now, with all your friends around you, Yoongi talking so enthusiastically about his work, you knew you would never ask him to quit. He loved performing, loved making music; and when you'd chosen him you'd chosen all of him.

You yawned again, and Yoongi glanced at you, still smiling. "Tired? Want to go?"

"No, it's okay."

And it really was. Finally, everything in your life was just the way you wanted it. You looked around—Jimin and Taehyung were laughing over some private joke, Jungkook and Seokjin bickering over a dish of olives you'd set out. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Hoseok's girlfriend Jiyeon were lazily playing cards, discussing the new album. In your apartment, where you'd chosen the decorations and built the furniture with Yoongi, full of your friends and family, you finally felt content.

"What's with that look?" he asked, amused.

You kissed his cheek. "Just appreciating what I have."

a/n: YES you can ask about this fic in my ask box and i MIGHT write snippets or short headcanons

i have a few other fics coming up (including hockey player college au! jungkook, vampire! yoongi, and childhood best friend high school au! hoseok, so keep watch for that. taglist AND asks for all those fics are open, and you can read a bit about them at my masterlist. again thanks so much for reading and enjoying guys ily!!

Manager Park paced before Yoongi. "Are you crazy? Why would you jeopardize everything like this?" he shouted. Yoongi just kept looking down, unable to answer or defend himself.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You snapped, moving between them, arms crossed.

"You." Park's eyes narrowed. "What's wrong with me?" He picked up a folder from the desk. "What's wrong with you?"

You opened it to find… pictures. Pictures of you and Yoongi in the kitchen from an apartment window, pictures of him walking you out the door, pictures of you disguised as a staff member, him in his cap and mask at dinner. It was sickening, violating, knowing all those private moments together hadn't been private at all. Screenshots of tweets—oh God, the pictures posted online. You felt the urge to retch.

"Do you even know what this could do to his career?" Manager Park snarled. "You're damn lucky this isn't up on Dispatch already."

You glanced at Yoongi. He was silent.

Park caught your anguished look. "Listen, I don't care if you're Jin's sister. I don't care if you're the president's daughter or a restaurant dishwasher. Look at me—both of you, look at me."

Yoongi lifted his head, and your heart tore as you saw his red, swollen eyes.

"Thank God, we caught it before it could gain any traction. The person that took these photos, who posted them online, she's been… taken care of." Manager Park paced some more. "But this can't go on anymore. You can't see each other." He met Yoongi's eyes, then yours. "I want no contact between you two from now on. It's over."

Your heart broke when Yoongi said, softly, "Can I talk to her? Privately?"

Park sighed. "Not for long, okay? Say goodbye to each other." He left the room.

"Y/N…" Yoongi wrapped his arms around you.

His face was already blurry with tears, and you tried to wipe them away, trying to see him clearly for the last time. "Yoongi, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. I'll leave the company—"

You drew back, aghast. "What? No, Manager Park is right. Your career—"

"Fuck my career." Yoongi's voice was low, but full of venom. "Fuck Manager Park. I'll figure it out, I can ask the other Bangtan boys if they'll leave with me."

"You can't do that," you told him, quietly. "You know what it means—not just for you, but for them. It's… it has to be over between us."

His face crumpled. "Y/N, please. Please don't leave me."

You caressed his cheek, even as tears spilled over and dripped down your own. "I love you. You know I do. I want you to succeed. I want you to be happy."

"You make me happy." His eyes were desperate, searching. "I can't do this without you. I won't."

Even as your heart ached, even as you felt a deep void ripping itself inside you, you told him, "I won't stand between you and your dreams."

He buried his face in your shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" You stroked his hair.

"I'm sorry I didn't try hard enough. I'm sorry for all those days I spent at the studio instead of with you. I'm sorry we're in this situation now, and I'm sorry you fell in love with me at all." He held you tightly, his tears dripping onto your skin.

"None of this is your fault." You laid your head against his. "I chose you. I knew the risks, and I would still do it again a million times. I still love you, and I always will."

He cried then, really cried, and you cried with him. Manager Park rapped the door. "Five more minutes," he called.

"Y/N," Yoongi told you desperately, holding your shoulders, "I'll love you always. Wait for me, okay? I'll come back to you."

Your heart jumped a bit. "You promise?"

"I promise. When I've made it big enough, when I can leave the company, when I can tell them to go fuck themselves—I'll come back."

"I love you," you murmured.

"I love you," he whispered back.

And that was the end of it.

a/n: that is NOT the end of it. there's a part 5 so i'll see you guys there soon for the happy ending!!