Danette Novelette

But Amber had been relentless, hammering me with looks and not-so-subtle threats. Krystal had started sighing every time I opened my mouth. And Luna—god, Luna just kept looking at me like I was the lead actress in a drama that kept making the wrong choices.

I hated that I let it go this long.

I tried to convince myself that maybe his reaction that night—him protecting me, holding me so close—might mean he felt the same way. That maybe it would be okay to let him in.

But I couldn’t.

And tonight… I couldn’t put it off anymore.

After hours of pacing, chewing on the inside of my cheek, losing arguments with myself and spiraling into another cycle of what-ifs, I finally decided.

I was going to tell him.

—

The door to Studio 3B was cracked when I got there. That felt like a sign—some stupid cinematic metaphor. An opening. One I had to walk through.

I stood there for a second, pulse hammering in my chest like it was trying to warn me. I exhaled, trying to calm my nerves.

It didn’t work. My hands still trembled.

But I stepped inside anyway.

Yoongi didn’t notice me at first.

He was at the console, focused, his back to me—the usual sharpness in his profile was dulled, his features softer—not with kindness, but with fatigue. Like he’d spent the day swallowing everything he didn’t want to feel and it had hollowed him out.

He looked tired.

Not the kind of tired that sleep could fix.

And maybe… maybe I knew exactly what that felt like.

I swallowed down the hesitation burning at the back of my throat and forced myself to speak.

“Hey.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t look surprised.

But his shoulders stiffened just a little.

He turned slowly, and when his eyes found mine, for a heartbeat, something surfaced—raw, fleeting, and impossible to read. Not anger. Not warmth.

Something somewhere in between.

A beat of silence.

Then—

“…Hey.”

It landed soft, cautious.

Like he didn’t know what version of me was about to show up.

My chest tightened.

He wasn’t cold…but he wasn’t open either.

I took a step closer. “Can we talk?”

He watched me for a long second. Then, finally, he gave a slow nod.

My heart thudded painfully against my ribs.

This was it.

I drew in a breath, deep and shaking, trying to steady the chaos in my head.

“Yoongi, I—”

The door slammed open.

I jumped, instinctively stepping back as the sound ripped through the room.

Yoongi’s gaze snapped toward the door, whatever softness had been trying to surface—gone. Wiped clean in an instant, replaced by that familiar edge of despise I hadn’t seen in weeks.

My stomach dropped.

Because standing there, like he owned the place, with that trademark shit-eating grin I hated on principle—

Was Jae.

He leaned against the frame like he was the punchline to a joke I didn’t get.

Like he’d timed this.

I froze.

Yoongi didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. His entire body just… locked up. Like someone had flipped the switch.

And in that moment, I knew.

Everything I’d been about to say—everything I’d dug out of my chest with shaking hands and reckless hope—was gone.

Crushed.

Suffocated by timing.

All the vulnerability I had managed to scrape together evaporated in an instant.

And just like that—

Everything fell apart.

Jae’s voice slithered into the room, smooth and unbothered, like he’d been here all along.

“Wow.” His gaze flicked between me and Yoongi. “Déjà vu.”

I swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”

Jae sighed dramatically. “What, no warm welcome? We used to be so much closer than this.”

Yoongi stood up, voice low and deadly. “Get out.”

Jae ignored him. Instead, he turned to me. His entire demeanor shifted, the smug amusement faded just slightly. What remained was something cold and calculated.

Something dangerous.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” His voice dropped, quieter now. “You’re skiing on a real slippery slope?”

My chest tightened. “What?”

Jae tilted his head, his gaze flickering with something unnerving.

”That little stunt you pulled at the bar? Do I really have to remind you of your place with me?”

The words hit me like a physical blow.

My breath caught and Yoongi’s eyes snapped to me.

That was when I realized—Jae hadn’t come to talk to him.

He had come for me.

I forced my voice steady. “What are you talking about?”

Jae exhaled, shaking his head. “I’ve been very lenient with you since you ran away. But I’m done playing your little game.”

The air thickened in an instant and I struggled to breathe.

Yoongi’s gaze sharpened—worry and confusion swirling around in his eyes. But I couldn’t look at him.

I knew what Jae was doing and I couldn’t stop him.

This time, he wasn’t being vague.

He wasn’t just poking at old wounds. He was ripping them wide open, purposefully tearing me apart in front of Yoongi to make his point even louder.

Jae leaned against the console, too comfortable in a place that wasn’t his.

“You can’t run away from me, Y/N. And quite frankly I’m done chasing you. You have two days to get your shit together and then I’m taking you back home. ”

My stomach dropped. The memories assaulted my mind all in an instant and I couldn’t fight them as they flashed across my eyes. I stumbled backwards, my eyes unfocused as images of the past flashed before me. Yoongi’s arms shot out to keep me from falling. 

But I wasn’t there. I wasn’t in the studio with him anymore.

I was in a different studio.

With a different man.

A time when I let my walls down—gave everything of myself to that man only to be broken for it.

----------------------------------------

Amber and Krystal were off flirting with some guys across the room, completely unaware that I had stopped drinking my cocktail an hour ago because the room had started tilting.

And that was when the devil himself showed up.

“Didn’t take you for the self-destructive type, sweetheart.”

Every muscle in me coiled tight. I groaned, tilting my head back. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jae slid into the seat across from me like he belonged there, stretching an arm over the back of the chair.

“I mean, I respect it,” he mused, eyeing my drink. “But you don’t really wear the look well.”

I rolled my eyes. “What look?”

He gestured vaguely. “The whole ‘drinking away your misery’ thing. Bit cliché, don’t you think?”

I gripped my glass tighter, already regretting this entire night.

“I’m not miserable.”

Jae hummed, unconvinced. “Right. And I’m an upstanding citizen.”

I exhaled sharply, turning away. “I don’t have time for your shit tonight, Jae.”

“I think you’ve got plenty of time,” he said smoothly.

And then—because he always knew exactly where to twist the knife:

“I assume this means he’s out of the picture for good now?”

A jolt shot through my chest. Jae watched me, expression suspiciously blank.

Then his voice dipped lower. “Like I said. I own you, sweetheart.”

Something inside me snapped.

Before I could think—before I could stop myself—my drink was airborne.

The cold splash of liquor and ice hit Jae square in the face.

He blinked, stunned. Then—he laughed. A low, quiet chuckle as he looked down at his soaked shirt, shaking his head.

“Well,” he murmured, amused. “That was dramatic.”

I shoved back from the table, fists clenched. “Stay the hell away from me,” I hissed.

His mouth twisted into something darker.

I didn’t know what he was about to say—and I didn’t care. Because I was already moving.

In my drunken haze, I snatched a bottle from a neighboring table, slamming it against the edge. The neck shattered with a crack, jagged glass gleaming in the dim light as I raised it toward him.

The entire bar seemed to freeze.

I barely registered the gasps from the surrounding tables. Barely noticed Amber and Krystal whipping around from across the room.

All I saw was red.

I didn’t know what I planned to do. Maybe shove him. Maybe carve that smug look off his face.

But I didn’t get the chance because suddenly—someone was pulling me back. Solid arms wrapped around my waist, dragging me away from Jae before I could make contact.

“Let me go!” I thrashed against the hold, breath erratic. “Let me go so I can kill him!”

Their grip tightened. Then a familiar voice, low and sharp, cut through the chaos.

“Are you insane?!”

I stiffened mid-motion, limbs going rigid. My heart dropped—and so did everything else. The glass slipped slightly in my grip as my body locked up.

Because I knew that voice.

I’d recognize it anywhere.

Slowly, so slowly, I turned my head—my mouth parted, a soundless question stuck in my throat as I froze.

Yoongi was standing behind me, a conflicted fire of emotions blazing behind his eyes. His jaw clenched tight, arms still locked firmly around my waist.

The world narrowed until it was just us. The music faded. The bar, the people, the noise—none of it mattered. All the rage that had been ignited in me was extinguished in an instant.

Because Yoongi was here. 

He was looking at me again. I couldn’t do anything but stare up at him, bewildered.

He took me by the wrist, dragging me away before any more drama could unfold. We shoved through the crowd that had gathered. Past the security rushing over. Through the exit. Into the freezing night air.

Only when we were outside—only when the cold bit at the skin of my cheeks—did he finally let go. He stood there, chest rising and falling rapidly, hands still clenched into fists. I stared at him, heart racing, not sure what to say.

This couldn’t be real.

There was no way Yoongi was actually here. I must’ve passed out at the bar. Drunk-dreaming again. Any second now, someone would shake me awake. Amber, probably. Or a bouncer.

I pinched the inside of my arm. Hard. “Shit,” I yelped, jerking at the sting.

Yoongi blinked. Then, despite himself, a breath of a chuckle escaped him. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, drawing my attention back to him.

I gawked. “You’re actually here,” I whispered. “I wasn’t—It’s really you?”

For a second we just stared into each others eyes. Searching for something. For anything that would fix the broken pieces between us. The air was still—Like the world made space for him and me again, for something soft to slip in between the wreckage.

My voice cracked. “I thought you hated me.”

Yoongi shifted, a strained look on his face. “I tried to.” He admitted.

“Please,” I whispered. “Please don’t leave me again.”

The floodgates open. A choked sob escapes before I can stop it, my shoulders shaking as the weight of everything comes crashing down all at once. Through gasped breaths rambles tumble out of my mouth—apologizing. Begging.

Yoongi’s entire expression shifted.

I expected him to step back. To retreat like he always did when things got too real.

But he didn’t.

He hesitated—then reached out, cupping the sides of my face.

His thumbs brushed against my cheeks, wiping away the tears before they had a chance to fall.

“I miss you. And I care about you so much—” I cried, almost hysterical.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Breathe.”

I couldn’t.

Not when his touch was so gentle.

Not when I knew—I knew—that this was real.

“I trust you, Yoongi. I promise I’ll tell you everything about Jae—” I stammered. 

And then—

Suddenly his lips were on mine. Soft, not rushed. Reassuring.

Nothing like all the kisses we’d shared before.

And I hated how perfect this felt—like the shape of his lips were contoured perfectly to fit against mine.

I hated that he knew me so well. 

That he knew that words alone wouldn’t be able to stop me. Like he knew that nothing else would calm me.

His thumbs brushed against my skin again, grounding me. “I don’t care about Jae,” he said quietly. “I care about you.”

I exhaled sharply, trying to gather my thoughts. “Yoongi, I—”

The door slammed open behind us.

I flinched and Yoongi stiffened thinking this would be a repeat of last time.

And then—

“Oh, shit.”

I whirled around.

Amber and Krystal were standing there—very, very drunk.

Amber blinked. “Are we interrupting something?”

Krystal squinted. “Are you crying?”

Amber gasped. “Did he confess?!”

Krystal’s eyes went wide. “Did you reject him?!”

Amber grabbed a beer bottle off the ground. “Dude, I will break this over his head right now—”

“WHAT THE HELL?!” I shrieked.

Yoongi dragged a hand down his face.

The tension from moments ago completely dead.

Amber was still holding the beer bottle. “I just think he should be held accountable—”

“Put the bottle down.”

Krystal squinted again. “Wait, are we serious or not?”

I groaned, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. “Can you guys not make this worse?”

Amber frowned. “Okay, but…what’s happening?”

I glanced at Yoongi.

He was watching me, expression unreadable.

I swallowed hard.

“I’ll tell you everything,” I whispered. “Just… not tonight.”

His lips parted slightly—like he wasn’t expecting that.

Then—after a long beat—he nodded.

Amber threw her hands up. “What is going on?! Why does it feel like we just walked into an episode of a Goblin—”

Krystal physically drug her away, still hollering in confusion.

“Let’s go before she actually commits a crime,” she muttered.

Amber, pouting, yeeted the beer bottle into the distance.

We all watched it spin.

Then—silence.

I let out a slow breath, head tipping in disbelief.

Yoongi snorted.

And for the first time in weeks, I felt like I could finally breathe.

—

The Next Morning – Campus Café

Amber slammed her tray onto the table.

“Alright,” she said, dramatically unwrapping her sandwich. “Spill.”

I blinked blearily at her. “Huh?”

Krystal scoffed, sitting down next to her. “Don’t ‘huh’ us. We saw what we saw.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, sipping her iced coffee. “Oh? And what exactly did we see?”

Amber leaned forward, grinning. “The confession of a lifetime! They might as well have been fucking in the alley!”

I choked on my tea.

Krystal groaned. “Amber.”

“What?” Amber shrugged. “It’s close enough to the truth.”

“It’s not,” I croaked.

Luna hummed. “But something did happen, didn’t it?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Not… exactly.”

Amber narrowed her eyes. “You cried.”

I faltered. “Excuse me?”

Amber crossed her arms. “You never cry.”

Krystal tilted her head. “She’s got a point. The last time you cried was when you stepped on a Lego.”

Luna nodded. “And you didn’t even cry out of pain. You cried because you realized the Lego industry was still thriving.”

I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. “Can we not do this right now? I’m too hungover to think.”

Amber sighed, but she softened slightly. “Okay, fine.”

A beat.

Then—

“But, like. Did you want to fuck him in that alley?”

I screamed into my hands. I couldn’t take these idiots anymore. I had to get away.

By the time afternoon rolled around, I found myself wandering the music department hallway, hoping the silence would help clear my head.

The halls smelled like waxed floors and ancient sheet music, and the buzz of distant rehearsal carried from somewhere behind a closed door. I leaned against the wall, pressing my forehead to the cool plaster.

I hadn’t seen him yet.

And I couldn’t decide if that was a relief or a punishment. After last night—his hands on my face, his voice gentler than it had any right to be, telling me I mattered—I had no idea how to look him in the eye. Not when the words I wanted to say still refused to come.

But of course—because the universe had it out for me—I turned the corner and slammed right into him. The impact stole my breath. Before I could stumble back, a firm hand caught me by the waist.

My heart stuttered then settled, like it had been waiting for this exact moment to exhale.

“Yoongi.” I breathed.

He stepped back almost immediately, but his eyes—his eyes didn’t let me go.

He said nothing. But I could feel it.

The tension. The weight of everything we hadn’t said last night.

The question still hanging between us—

What now?

I swallowed. “Uh. Hey.”

“Hey.” His voice was steady, but his eyes didn’t match.

I shifted, trying not to fidget under his gaze. “Um—”

I thought he was about to say something—but before he could, a voice interrupted.

“Yoongi! There you are.”

We both turned as Namjoon was approaching, oblivious to the moment he had just shattered. Yoongi’s shoulders tensed just slightly.

Namjoon glanced between us. “Oh. Are you guys—”

“Nope,” I blurted. “Just leaving.”

Namjoon paused, eyeing us for a beat longer than necessary before shrugging. “Alright. We’ve got a meeting in five.”

Yoongi nodded once, but he didn’t move. Not right away.

His gaze drifted back to me—quiet, unreadable. And for a moment, just a breath—something in it softened.

Not enough to mean anything.

But enough to make me ache.

Then he turned, silent as ever, and walked away down the hall.

And I stood there, pulse hammering, with the awful truth settling in my chest like a stone:

I didn’t want him to keep walking away.

And yet, hours later, I still hadn’t figured out what I would’ve said if he’d stayed.

Now, I was on the floor of Amber’s dorm room, surrounded by snack wrappers and bad decisions.

A piece of popcorn bounced off my forehead.

“Say it,” Amber demanded.

I blinked, disoriented by the sudden brightness and chaos. “No.”

Krystal sighed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Luna nodded solemnly. “You are.”

Amber reached for another handful. “Say. It.”

I glared from my spot on the floor. “Say what?”

Krystal leaned in, voice loaded with suspicion and delight. “That you like Yoongi.”

I choked on air. “Excuse me?”

Amber beamed. “There it is.”

Luna smirked. “We knew.”

I scowled. “You guys don’t know anything.”

Amber launched a full handful at my face.

I shrieked. “WHAT THE—”

“Admit it and I’ll stop.”

I peeled popcorn from my hoodie, groaning. “I don’t—”

Amber raised her hand again, threatening.

I narrowed my eyes. “Don't you dare!”

Krystal and Luna watched from the opposite end of the room like it was a goddamn drama. Krystal had her knees pulled up to her chest, eyes sharp with anticipation. Luna looked positively smug, sipping from her soda can like she knew exactly how this scene would end.

Finally, I let out a sharp breath through my nose and slumped back against the couch.

“I like him, okay?”

Amber let out a dramatic gasp. “OH MY GOD.”

Luna beamed. “Finally.”

Krystal sighed like the weight of the world had just been lifted. “That took way too long.”

Amber clapped her hands. “Okay. Next step—tell him.”

I froze.

The room suddenly felt hotter. Smaller.

Luna tilted her head. “You’re gonna tell him, right?”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. “I—”

Amber narrowed her eyes, already reaching for the popcorn bowl. “Don’t make me do this again.”

I groaned and shoved a pillow over my face. The fabric muffled my voice, but not the quiet panic twisting in my chest.

Because yes, I wanted to tell him.

God, I wanted to.

But the thought of saying it out loud—of hearing the words leave my mouth and hang in the air between us—terrified me. Because once I said it, there was no undoing it. No way to shove the truth back down and pretend I didn’t mean it.

And I wasn’t sure I was ready for whatever came after that.

----------------------------------------

I knew this silence wasn't going to last.

And I knew—when he finally spoke, it was going to ruin me.

His car pulled up in front of my building, but neither of us moved.

The engine hummed. The air between us crackled.

Then—“Get out.”

My heart dropped to my stomach.

I should’ve listened. Should’ve taken the out he’d given me.

But I didn’t.

I turned to face him. “Yoongi—”

His knuckles whitened around the wheel. “Get. Out.”

I swallowed hard. “Can we just—”

He exhaled sharply, finally looking at me.

And it was devastating.

The heat—the quiet affection, the teasing—it was gone.

All that was left was frustration. Exhaustion. Resignation.

“Either you tell me,” he said quietly, “or you leave.”

The air thinned.

My hands curled into fists against my lap. “It’s not that simple.” I whispered.

He clenched his jaw. “It is for me, Y/N.”

I flinched, but he wasn’t done.

“I fought for you tonight.” His voice is low, sharp. “If that doesn’t make you trust me then...”

I blinked rapidly, fighting back tears. “Yoon—,” my voice cracked.

He tilted his head slightly. “You know what that tells me?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

I just shook my head, refusing to accept whatever he was about to say.

His lips pressed into a thin line, brow furrowed. “You don’t want this… not the way I do.”

My chest ached.

Because that wasn’t true.

It’d never been true.

But how could I explain that I didn’t know how to let him in? That I’d spent so long keeping things buried, keeping people at arm’s length, that the thought of giving in—of letting him see me, the real—terrified me?

Through the tears I could only get out, “That’s not…please I–”

Yoongi exhaled harshly, cutting me off. “You can’t even say it. Everything in you always pulls away from me.”

And then—he got out of the car. I barely registered the movement before my door swung open.

He stood there, waiting.

A nonverbal ultimatum.

Get out. Face this. Or don’t.

I hesitated. And that was all it took.

His expression shifted.

And for the first time in weeks, he looked at me like I was nothing more than a stranger.

The final thread between us snapped.

“Fine.” His voice was eerily calm. “You don’t want to talk? I won’t ask again.”

Panic flooded my chest.

No. No, that’s not—

But I was frozen.

And before I could find the words, before I could stop him—

He walked away.

Didn’t look back.

Didn’t wait.

Just gone.

I sat there, staring at the empty space he left behind, with the crushing weight of realization settling over me.

I’d just lost him.

—

Yoongi didn’t text me.

Didn’t call.

Didn’t come back for his car.

He wouldn’t even look at me when I saw him on campus the next day.

I should’ve known this was coming. Should’ve known the second I hesitated last night that we were finished. But there never really was a we.

Knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.

And it did hurt. Like hell.

Because I’d seen Yoongi irritated before. Seen him frustrated, exasperated, amused at my expense.

But I’d never seen him like this.

Treating me like I didn’t exist.

Like I was just another face in the crowd.

I tried not to let it affect me.

I focused on my work. I went to meetings. I acted like everything was fine.

But it wasn’t.

Because when I stepped into the studio that evening, ready to finalize the last of my edits, he was already there.

And for the first time since this internship started, he didn’t acknowledge me.

He didn’t crack a joke. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t say a single word.

Just kept working.

Like I wasn’t even there.

I swallowed hard, setting my bag down and opening my laptop.

The silence was unbearable.

More than that—it was calculated.

Yoongi knew exactly how to make me miserable.

Knew that if he argued with me, teased me, fought me—I’d push back. I’d give in.

But this?

This absence?

This was worse.

I stole a glance at him. He was staring at the screen, fingers moving effortlessly over the controls. His expression was unreadable.

I hesitated. “Yoongi…”

Nothing.

Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

I exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the chair. “You’re seriously going to ignore me?”

Silence.

My pulse spiked.

“Yoongi.”

Still nothing.

Frustration coiled in my chest.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Finally—finally—he moved.

But not toward me.

Instead, he leaned forward, pressed a key on the console, and the track played through the speakers, effectively drowning out my voice.

I froze.

Because this wasn’t just ignoring me.

This was shutting me out completely.

And I hated it.

I pushed off my chair, crossing the room until I was standing beside him.

I didn’t care that I was interrupting his work.

I didn’t care that he didn't want to hear me.

Because I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let this be how we ended.

I reached for the controls and paused the track.

The silence was deafening.

Yoongi exhales through his nose, slow and even. “What do you want?”

His voice was cold. Detached.

I flinched. “You don’t have to do this.”

He tilted his head, finally—finally—looking at me.

And I wished he hadn’t.

Because his gaze was empty.

Like he’d already written me off.

“Do what?” he said flatly.

I swallowed, shrugging. “This. Acting like I don’t exist.”

Yoongi blinked. “I’m not acting.”

A hollow ache settled in my chest.

His voice was quieter when he spoke again. “You didn’t want to tell me? Fine. You don’t owe me anything.” He leans back, crossing his arms. “So don’t expect anything from me, either.”

Air stalled in my lungs.

Because I knew what he was saying.

He was done.

He was done waiting, done pushing, done caring.

And it was my fault.

I took a step back. “Yoongi—”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head.

Then he reached forward—pressed play again.

The music started up, drowning out anything else I could have said.

That time I didn’t stop it.

I just stood there.

Watching the person who used to push me, tease me, see me—turn into someone who didn’t care at all.

And for the first time, I realized—

I might have finally gotten what I thought I wanted.

And I hated it more than anything.

Day 1

I knew Yoongi was cold.

I just didn’t know how cold he could be.

The internship office was quieter than usual—not because people weren’t talking, but because Yoongi wasn't.

He sat at the end of the conference table, scrolling through his notes with an expression so hard it might as well have been carved from stone.

When Namjoon asked about the schedule, Yoongi barely looked up.

"Figure it out yourself."

The room shifted uncomfortably.

Hoseok tried to lighten the mood, nudging him with an easy grin. “Hyung, if you keep scaring everyone, no one’s gonna wanna work with you.”

Yoongi scoffed, shutting his laptop with a click. “Good.”

The silence that followed was thick.

Hoseok’s smile faded. Namjoon exchanged a glance with Jungkook. No one knew what to say.

And me?

I sat on the opposite end of the table, pretending like the air between us wasn’t suffocating me.

Like his voice didn’t sound different.

Like his words weren’t meant for me.

Day 2

People noticed.

They didn’t say it outright, but they felt it.

The way Yoongi’s friends hesitated before speaking around me. The way Krystal watched me with careful eyes. The way Hoseok pulled Jungkook aside before he could giddily greet me like he used to.

The shift was slow, but it was there.

I knew they didn’t mean to take sides.

But they did. They had to.

And I was alone.

Day 3 – Studio 3B

I shouldn’t  have been here.

But I didn’t know where else to go.

I stood outside the studio door, heart hammering, trying to think.

Trying to find a way to fix things.

Because I hated this.

Hated the distance. Hated the silence. Hated the way he was shutting me out like I never meant anything at all.

I took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

Yoongi didn’t even flinch.

He was at the console, eyes locked on the screen editing, moving like he was on autopilot.

Like he could do this in his sleep.

Like nothing else in the world existed.

I hovered near the door, heartbeat tripping over itself.

I cleared my throat. “Yoongi.”

Nothing.

A dull ache bloomed in my chest. “I know you’re pissed—”

He exhaled sharply, standing abruptly.

“What do you want?” His voice was flat. Emotionless.

I swallowed hard. “Can we just—talk?”

He laughed. A short, humorless thing. “Now you want to talk?”

I winced. “Yoongi, come on. I—”

He shook his head, cutting me off. “No. You don’t. You want things to go back to normal.”

I recoiled. “Is that such a bad thing?”

Yoongi’s jaw clenched. “You don’t get it, do you?”

I took a step forward. “Then make me get it.” I begged.

He finally looked at me.

But it was not the look I wanted.

It was exhaustion. It was empty.

And for a second, I thought he would.

I thought he’d finally tell me what he was thinking, what he was feeling, what I’d done to push him this far away.

But instead—

He pushed his hair back, threw his hands up in exasperation. “What do you want me to say?” His voice was quiet, but the weight behind it was crushing.

I exhaled shakily. “I don’t know. Anything! That you’re not just going to shut me out like this.”

He scoffed. “Like what?”

I stepped forward, gripping the edge of the console. “Like I don’t exist.”

He sighed, rubbing his temple. “I’m busy, Y/N. I don’t have time for this. Go home.”

I shook my head, on the verge of breaking again. “Not until you talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say to you!” His voice didn’t rise, but the fury behind it was deafening.

It was flat. Final—told me everything I needed to know.

He stepped back.

Like he wasn’t even willing to put up with this fight anymore.

My chest splintered around a truth I didn’t want to face.

“Go home, Y/N.” His voice was quieter now. Exhausted.

I inhaled a shuddering breath. “Yoongi—”

But he just turned away. Back to his work. Back to his silence.

Back to anything but me.

And I realized—This wasn’t just distance.

This was erasure.

And I didn’t know how to come back from that.

Day 5

The silence followed me everywhere.

I heard it in the spaces Yoongi used to fill—the sarcastic remarks, the teasing, the quiet hum of approval when we had worked side by side.

I saw it in the way our friends hesitated before talking to me, like they don’t know whose side to take.

And I felt it. God, I felt it in my chest like something was caving in.

But the worst part?

It wasn’t just his silence.

It was mine, too.

Because I was tired.

Tired of trying. Tired of reaching out just to be met with a wall. Tired of pretending that my stomach didn’t sink every time I stepped into a room and saw him sitting there, perfectly fine without me.

So, after that night in the studio, I stopped trying.

I stopped waiting for him to acknowledge me.

I stopped hoping he’d look at me and see me again.

I didn’t have the energy for it anymore.

And I couldn’t blame anyone but myself.

Day 8

Amber nudged me in class, her brows furrowing. “You good?”

I blinked at her, startled. “Yeah. Why?”

She gestures vaguely. “You haven’t said anything in, like, a week. That’s not normal.”

Krystal chimed in from the other side. “You also didn’t react when the professor mispronounced Jungkook’s name five times in a row. You usually love roasting people for that.”

I forced a small smile. “Guess I’m just tired.”

Amber and Krystal exchanged a look.

Luna tilted her head. “Is this about Yoongi?”

I stiffened.

I should’ve lied. Should’ve brushed it off and said I didn’t care.

But I couldn’t force the words out.

That alone was enough of an answer.

Amber sighed. “Dude.”

Krystal frowned, reaching for my arm. “What happened?”

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

Amber scoffed. “Yeah, okay, and I’m the next CEO of BigHit.”

Luna leaned forward, voice softer. “Did you guys fight?”

I breathed slowly, carefully. “Something like that.”

They waited for me to elaborate.

I didn’t.

Because I didn’t know how to explain it.

How could I put into words that I had something—someone—and now he was just gone?

How could I tell them I had ruined it all over the course of one night?

So I didn’t say anything at all.

And eventually, they stopped asking.

Day 11

Namjoon and Hoseok walked past me in the hallway.

They didn’t stop.

They didn’t even look at me.

I don’t know why I expected them to.

Yoongi was their friend. Their loyalty was to him.

But it still stung.

I press my lips together and keep walking.

Day 14

We were all in the same room again.

It was the final round of internship meetings before our project presentations next week, and everyone was on edge.

But no one was worse than him.

Yoongi sat across the table, arms crossed, expression dark.

Every time someone spoke to him, his responses were clipped, impatient.

Even Hoseok barely avoided a crippling insult. Namjoon tensed when Yoongi dismissed another scheduling question.

The entire room felt like they were holding their breath.

And I knew exactly why.

Because Yoongi wasn’t just cold anymore.

He was angry.

And the whole department was on the receiving end of his wrath.

The tension got so bad that Professor Kang had to step in, cutting the meeting short before someone said something they couldn’t take back.

I lingered near the exit, watching Yoongi pack up his things, shoulders tight with frustration.

I should say something.

I should’ve walked over, told him to stop taking this out on everyone else.

But then he looked up.

Our eyes meet.

And for a split second, I thought I saw something crackle in his expression—something raw, something aching.

But then—he looked away.

And I knew.

I knew he wasn’t coming back from this.

Not unless I made him.

But I didn’t know if I could.

Not when I barely had the strength to hold myself together.

So I did nothing.

I watched him walk away.

Again.

Day 17

I didn’t recognize myself anymore.

I woke up exhausted. Went through the motions—never present, never feeling. I showed up where I needed to be, spoke only when necessary, and kept my head down.

I didn’t have the energy for anything else.

Not when the weight of everything was pressing down on me.

Not when I could still feel Yoongi’s absence like a phantom limb.

My friends noticed, but they stopped asking.

They tried to comfort me. Eventually they gave me space too.

Yoongi’s friends avoided me altogether.

And Yoongi?

He existed somewhere beyond my reach—close enough to see, but never close enough to touch.

Day 19

I was in the studio alone, staring blankly at my laptop screen.

I hadn’t made any real progress in hours.

I should’ve cared.

But I didn’t.

Not when the silence felt heavier than any unfinished project.

The door creaked open.

I didn’t look up.

Not until a voice—low, familiar, and entirely unwanted—filled the room.

“Didn’t expect to find you here alone.”

My stomach twisted, and for the first time in days, something sharp and hot pierced through the numbness.

I inhaled slowly, forcing my expression into something neutral before turning to face him.

“What do you want?”

Jae stepped inside, letting the door close behind him. He looked me over, head tilting slightly.

“You look like hell.”

I rolled my eyes. “And yet, I’d rather be there than here with you.”

His lips twitched. “Harsh.”

I didn’t respond.

I didn’t have the patience for whatever game he was trying to play.

Jae clicked his tongue, stepping closer. “So.” His eyes flashed with something knowing. Something dangerous. “How long are you going to keep pretending you don’t miss him?”

My lungs locked up, but I didn't let him see it.

I kept my voice steady. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He laughed. “Sure you don’t.”

I glared at him. “Why do you care?”

Jae shrugged. “I don’t.”

Then why did he look so fucking smug?

I exhaled sharply. “If you’re done wasting my time—”

“You know,” Jae interrupted, voice quieter, “I’ve seen this before.”

My spine straightened without thinking.

He leaned against the table, watching me carefully. “You shut people out. You let them chase you just long enough to think they have a chance—then you pull away.”

My heartbeat slammed against my ribs.

I forced a scoff. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jae hummed. “Maybe not.”

Then, he tilted his head, smirk fading.

“But I do know one thing.”

I crossed my arms. “And what’s that?”

Jae stepped closer, voice dropping lower.

“You can keep pretending all you want,” he murmurs. “But at the end of the day—you’re the one who always ruins it all.”

My stomach dropped.

Because for the first time since I had escaped Jae, I couldn’t tell if I was more angry at him.

Or at myself for believing him.

Day 22

Jae’s words lingered long after he was gone.

I told myself that those words didn’t matter. That he didn’t matter.

But the truth was—they did.

They sank into my bones, curled around my ribs, and stayed there, festering like an open wound I couldn’t reach.

Because he was right.

I had ruined everything.

I let Yoongi walk away.

And I didn’t know how to get him back.

Day 27

I didn’t go to the studio.

I didn’t go to class, either.

Hadn’t for a few days now.

I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself that none of this was as bad as it felt.

That I’d wake up tomorrow and this weight in my chest would be gone.

But it hadn’t yesterday. 

And it wouldn't tomorrow.

But the lie kept me breathing.

Day 30

Krystal forced me out of my apartment.

We sat in a café, and she watched me pick at my muffin like I was some kind of fragile animal that might bolt at any second.

She’d insisted on personally ensuring I ate every bite, considering I’d dropped about 15 lbs since…then.

Finally, she sighed.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said, voice careful. “But if you don’t snap out of this soon, I’m going to start making terrible decisions for you.”

I blinked at her. “Like what?”

Krystal shrugged. “Like signing you up for a public poetry reading about heartbreak.”

I groaned, dropping my head onto the table. “Please don’t.”

“Then start acting like a functional human being.”

I exhaled slowly. “I’m trying.”

She softened slightly. “Try harder.”

I wanted to.

But I didn’t know how.

Day 33

I saw Yoongi.

It was in the hallway between classes, brief and unexpected.

For a split second, his gaze flickered to mine.

Hope fluttered in the pit of my stomach. And then—

He walked right past me.

Like I still meant nothing.

Something in my chest cracked.

But I didn't let it show.

Not here.

Not where people can see.

Instead, I did the only thing I could.

I turned and walked the other way.

Because if he was done pretending I existed—

Then maybe I should be, too.

----------------------------------------

Anything but the thick veins visible where his sleeves were pushed up over his forearms.

Anything but the way his languid drawl revealed a slight lisp—something that might’ve passed for drunken slurring to a stranger.

I should not have agreed to this.

Not when the alcohol was blurring the lines I’d been trying so hard to keep clean.

Not when Yoongi was relaxed like this—his usual sharp edges softened, his smirk slower, his voice lower.

Not when every slow drag of his fingers through his messy hair made me shift in my seat.

And especially not when his hand kept drifting too close to my thigh, teasing the fabric of my skirt with just enough pressure to make my breath hitch.

I swallowed hard, downing the rest of my drink. “I need to go get water.”

Yoongi hummed, watching me slide off my stool. His gaze lingered on my legs as I stepped away, and I hated that I noticed.

The bar was packed, the air thick with neon lights and laughter. I pushed through the crowd, exhaling slowly.

I need to get a grip.

I reached the counter and ordered a glass of water, pressing my palms against the cool surface to ground myself. But before I could fully recover, someone stepped up beside me.

“You always did have a habit of looking for trouble.”

I tensed immediately.

I turned my head slightly—just enough to meet Jae’s gaze.

His smirk was familiar, but his eyes were sharper than before. Like he was waiting for something. Like he already knew what was about to happen.

I kept my voice neutral. “And you always did have a habit of starting it.”

Jae chuckled, tilting his head. “I can’t take all the credit. You walked into this one on your own.”

I exhaled through my nose. “What do you want?”

He clicked his tongue. “A better question is—what do you want?”

My fingers tightened around my glass. “Jae—”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to send a chill down my spine.

“Tell me something.” His smirk deepened. “When it’s all over, will you even recognize yourself? I mean, you’ve already changed so much since then.”

I froze.

My breath caught in my throat, my pulse a sharp, erratic thing in my chest.

Jae watched my reaction carefully, eyes gleaming—dark with power, with a knowing sense of control.

I opened my mouth—to demand answers, to tell him to get to the point already—but no words would escape. I hated that Jae could still do this to me. After all this time—all the work I’d put in.

It felt like I was going to drown beneath the whirlpool pressure of his stare. 

And then Yoongi was there. 

Sturdy. Warm. Suffocatingly close.

And somehow, I could breathe again. 

His arrival was effortless, like he belonged in this moment. Like he was always meant to step in and cut the tension before it swallowed me whole.

His voice was deceptively calm. “You again? What are you, a stalker?”

Jae barely reacted. He just smirked, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Didn’t realize you were on babysitting duty.”

Yoongi didn’t move. But his hand landed on my waist, fingers pressing just slightly into my hip—shifting me ever so slightly behind him, like he was a shield.

The contact sent a sharp jolt through me.

And Jae noticed.

His smirk deepened. “Let me guess. You’re the guard dog and Y/N is the owner?”

Yoongi’s grip tightened—barely, but I felt it.

The tension between them shifted immediately. No longer posturing—no longer teasing.

Yoongi’s voice was low. Steady. “You talk like someone looking for an ass whooping.”

Jae’s grin widened, razor-sharp. He looked at me then, slow and deliberate. “Still letting him speak for you, sweetheart?”

I stepped closer, pressing one hand firmly against Yoongi’s chest. A silent request. Grounding him, enough to pull his attention to me before this turned into something worse.

His jaw flexed, eyes warring between rage and restraint. He didn’t move.

“Let’s go,” I murmur, tugging him back gently by the fabric of his shirt with the other hand.

His fingers flexed against my waist, like he was debating something. Then—after a heartbeat—he exhaled through his nose and let me guide him away, his hand still warm on my lower back.

I didn’t look back at Jae as we pushed through the crowd, but I felt his stare burning into my back.

And I knew—this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Yoongi’s hand on my waist was firm but not rough, guiding me toward the exit like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go.

I didn’t argue.

I needed to get out of there.

The neon lights blurred past as we stepped into the alley behind the bar, the sharp night air hitting my skin. I exhaled shakily, trying to clear my head.

Yoongi stepped in front of me, eyes dark. “You okay?”

I nodded. Too quickly.

Yoongi scoffed. “Don’t lie.”

I pressed a hand against my forehead. “I just—”

Don’t know how to explain it.

How Jae always had a way of getting under my skin. Making me question things I thought I had buried. How his words weren’t just random taunts—they were pointed, meant to pull something out of me. How I knew, deep down, this wasn’t over.

Yoongi exhaled sharply. “What the hell is his problem?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

Yoongi’s jaw tightened. “Bullshit.”

I looked up at him, startled. “What?”

“You do know,” he said, voice low but firm. “You just won’t say it.”

My stomach twisted.

Because he was right.

I didn’t say anything.

Yoongi scoffed again, running a hand through his hair. “Right. You don’t owe me an explanation. I forgot.”

I inhaled sharply. “Yoongi—”

“I know.” His voice was quieter now, but there’s an edge to it. “You don’t trust me yet.”

That stung more than it should. “No, that’s not—”

Before I could finish, the muffled noises from the bar heightened for a few seconds before quietening again—signaling the door had opened. A shadow moved in the dim alleyway behind Yoongi. And then—

“Leaving so soon?”

Jae.

Dear God, not again.

My pulse spiked.

Yoongi tensed immediately, his head snapping toward the voice.

Jae stepped out of the darkness, slow and deliberate. He looked completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just spent the last five minutes picking apart my nerves inside the bar.

Like he didn’t just follow us outside to keep stoking the fire.

Yoongi’s stance shifted subtly, his body angling in front of mine.

“Walk away,” he said, voice calm but lethal.

Jae clicked his tongue. “Now, why would I do that?”

Yoongi didn’t move. “Okay, I’ll put it this way. Fuck off or get fucked.”

Jae let out a low laugh, tilting his head. “That’s cute. You think you can tell me what to do now?”

His eyes slid toward me—uncannily dark. Like black holes, pulling me back into a past riddled with trauma and dread.

My body went rigid. 

“You keep running from me, Y/N. But you can’t run forever.”

My chest tightened, a desperate, strangled gasp ripping through me.

No.

Jae stepped closer, disregarding Yoongi as if he wasn’t even there. “No matter where you go or how many bitch boys you hide behind,” he spat, “You’re mine. I own every part of you. You got that?”

No!

This can’t be happening!

Not now!

Not again!

And just like that, the fight ignited.

In an instant, Yoongi was a blur of movement.

His fist collided with Jae’s jaw, the sickening crack of impact split the silence. Jae stumbled back, clutching his face. But instead of retaliating immediately, he grinned—blood painting his teeth.

“Ah,” he exhaled, licking the gash in his lip absentmindedly. “There he is.”

I barely had time to react.

A dull thud echoed as Yoongi slammed Jae against the wall. Jae gritted his teeth, grabbed Yoongi’s shirt, and twisted him back, sending them both crashing into the brick with a force that shook my ribs.

Yoongi landed another hit to Jae’s side, but Jae recovered quickly, shoving back hard.

Jae’s expression shifted—less cocky now. More focused. Like this wasn’t just a fight—it was something he had been waiting for.

I stumbled forward. “Stop it!”

They didn’t listen.

Yoongi didn’t hesitate. His next few punches connected every time—landing hard and clean. One to the cheek. One to the jaw. Another to the nose. A couple to the side.

Jae got quite a few hits in too. But then he stumbled, gripping his ribs.

“Shit—” 

He dropped to the ground.

I tried to grab Yoongi’s arm before he could move again. “Stop!”

He didn’t even look at me—just shook me off, gentle but final. Like the last thread of restraint had snapped. Fist after fist, Yoongi continued pummeling Jae with a fury that seemed to have no end. 

I stood frozen. I needed to stop this. 

But a sick part of me didn't want to stop it.

That twisted part of me felt something close to satisfaction, even joy, watching the bloody mess beneath Yoongi’s fists.

But I had to stop this.

I needed to stop this.

For Yoongi’s sake if nothing else.

I threw myself against his back, arms locking tightly around his waist. “Yoongi, please! You have to stop!”

It took a few seconds, but it worked. With one last shove, he finally pulled away. When the haze cleared from his eyes, he turned to me, gaze scanning my face, my body, checking for blood, for bruises, for anything. 

“Are you hurt?”

“You fucking idiot—do you see yourself?” I cradled his face gently, inspecting the cuts and swelling. “You shouldn’t be worried about me!”

Through the pain, he smirked.

Behind us, Jae straightened, laughing low as he shook his head. “Guess I hit a nerve.”

Yoongi growled, low and steady. “You don’t know when to shut up.”

Jae wipes the blood from his face with his thumb, looking down at it like it’s an inconvenience. “And you don’t know when to walk away.”

I gripped Yoongi tighter. “He’s trying to start something.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi muttered, jaw clenched. “Well, he succeeded.”

Jae’s grin widened. “Don’t blame me. She’s the one who keeps attracting trouble.”

My stomach twisted. “Jae—”

His eyes snapped to mine. Sharp. Cruel.

Yoongi exhaled sharply, stepping back just slightly. “We done?”

Jae let out a jagged breath, wincing as he straightened. “You really don’t know, do you?”

Frustrated, Yoongi sighed. “Know what?”

Jae shook his head slowly, gaze dragging toward me.

And then he smiled.

Not smug. Not triumphant.

Something else.

Something worse.

He leaned in slightly, voice quiet.

“Ask her.”

My stomach dropped.

Yoongi’s eyes snapped to me.

Jae smirked, wiped the blood from his lip one last time, and stepped back.

“See you around.” And just like that—he was gone.

The silence that followed was deafening. I could feel Yoongi’s stare burning into me.

But I couldn’t look at him.

Because I knew what was coming.

I knew he was going to ask.

----------------------------------------

He looked up the moment I walked in, a slow smirk curling at his lips. “Finally. Thought you were avoiding me.”

I forced a neutral expression. “I’m busy, Jae.”

He tilted his head, mock-affectionate. “Too busy to catch up?”

I tightened my grip on my notebook. “Too busy for whatever this is.”

Jae chuckled, pushing off the desk with that lazy swagger I hated. “Relax. I’m just making conversation.”

I blew out a breath and stepped past him. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“I do.” His tone lightened. “Actually, I have a meeting. With Min Yoongi.”

I froze mid-step, then turned slowly. “What?”

Jae grinned, clearly savoring the reaction. “Surprised?”

Yes. But I wasn’t about to let him see it.

I masked my expression. “Why would you be meeting with him?”

He shrugged, all nonchalance. “I asked to be assigned to his next project.”

My stomach dropped. This was bad. Yoongi’s next project was my next project.

As the top two interns in the department, we’d been paired for the end-of-term production showcase—three original tracks, fully written, produced, and mixed from scratch. And the last person I wanted involved is Jae. Especially not with... whatever Yoongi and I had going on.

Before I could respond, the office door swung open and Yoongi walked in, exuding his usual blend of disinterest and barely-contained impatience. His gaze swept the room, landing on me first. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes before he turned to Jae.

Jae smirked. “You’re early.”

Yoongi didn't answer. When his eyes settled on me again I looked away. He slid his hands into his pockets, bored. “Did I interrupt something?”

Jae hummed, eyes never leaving mine. “Nothing scandalous... yet.”

Yoongi’s voice turned cold. “Stop wasting time, Jae.”

Jae grinned. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave.”

Yoongi lingered on me for a heartbeat longer, then turned and walked down the hall toward our usual studio. Jae followed, but not before tossing me a final, knowing look.

I let out a sharp breath.

This is going to be a disaster.

—

Later – Studio 3B

For the first hour, I kept to a corner, finishing up my own work in silence. Yoongi was deep into his editing of the first draft track for the project, Jae hovering over his shoulder asking a million annoying questions. Yoongi, ever the bristling asshole, ignored every single one. 

When I finally closed my laptop, I slipped out for a short walk to stretch my legs. It didn’t take long, just a few feet down the hall to grab a couple of drinks from the vending machine—only two: one for myself and then, hesitantly, another for Yoongi. Jae could die of dehydration and I wouldn’t bat an eyelash. 

Just as my hand touched the studio door, I paused.

I heard tense, hushed voices inside.

Jae’s irritatingly cocky voice and Yoongi’s short, clipped replies.

I lingered just outside the door.

“…just interesting, that’s all,” Jae was saying. “How close you two have gotten.”

I froze.

Yoongi’s reply was flat. “Is there a point to this?”

Jae chuckled. “Just reminiscing. You know, she and I—”

There was a pause. Too quiet. I leaned closer, but couldn’t catch whatever Jae said next.

Then Yoongi’s voice came low and sharp. “I don’t care.”

Jae hummed. “You sure about that?” I could hear the faintest murmur of Jae’s gritting voice again.

Then Yoongi, even quieter this time. “What the hell does that have to do with me?”

Jae laughed under his breath. “Relax. I’m just here to do my job.”

I couldn’t hear Yoongi’s response, but I could imagine it: the narrowed eyes, the set of his jaw, the slow-burning glare he reserved for people who pushed too far. 

I waited a beat longer, heart thudding in my chest, then pushed the door open like I hadn’t just been eavesdropping outside it.

Yoongi was standing near the mixing desk, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Jae lounged in a swivel chair, looking irritatingly pleased with himself. Both of them looked up as I stepped in, and for a second, no one said anything.

“Break’s over,” I said lightly, trying to ignore the way Yoongi’s gaze quickly flitted away from me—almost like he was irritated at my sudden presence. Suppressing the twinge of pain in my chest, I tried to force the heavy aura out of the room. “We working or what?”

Jae grinned. “I was just telling Yoongi how impressed I am with your progress.”

I leveled him with a look. “Yeah, whatever. Flattery doesn’t suit you.” I pushed past Jae to sidle up to Yoongi, holding out the cold drink as sort of a peace offering. 

Jae raised both hands in mock surrender. “No flattery. Just admiration. From a professional perspective, of course.”

Yoongi exhaled through his nose and turned back to the console, not sparing a glance at the bottle. “Let’s just get this done.” There was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there earlier. A quiet coil of barely tampered tension.

I timidly set down the bottle beside him, forcing back the feeling of tears prickling at the back of my eyelids. 

Was this Yoongi’s way of rejecting me? Did what Jae had told him about me disgust him so much that he wanted nothing to do with me?

My heart sank at the thought—the thought of losing…whatever it was Yoongi and I had built up to. My head began to spin, overwhelmed with the thought. But then I felt stupid.

Rejection? 

Rejection of what?

There wasn’t a real relationship for him to reject—not like THE Min Yoongi actually felt anything real for me. 

I hated that I was having these thoughts. That with one look—or lack thereof—he was able to throw me off my game.

I had to pull myself together.

I moved back to my previous spot, dropped my drink into my bag, and pulled out my notes. “Track one’s arrangement still needs tightening. Yoongi, did you get a chance to finalize the synth layering?”

He didn’t look at me. “Yeah. I already sent you the bounce.”

I hesitated. Just long enough for Jae to pick up on it.

“Everything okay?” he asked, faux-innocent. “You two seem… out of sync.”

I met his gaze. Steady. Cold. “Maybe it’s you throwing off the rhythm.”

Yoongi’s fingers froze briefly over the keys before continuing.

Jae tilted his head, amused. “Ouch. Careful Y/N, you’re starting to make me feel un-welcomed here.”

“Then leave,” Yoongi said suddenly, not looking up.

The room went still.

Jae raised a brow. “You kicking me out?”

“You said you wanted to observe,” Yoongi replied, voice even. “So listen. Don’t talk.”

I glanced at him, but his face was a wall. No cracks.

Jae smirked and leaned back. “Fine. Quiet as a mouse.”

I turned back to my laptop, trying to focus, but my thoughts buzzed louder than the monitors. Whatever had happened before I walked in—it wasn’t nothing.

And I wasn’t sure what was worse: Jae trying to stir the pot, or Yoongi refusing to let me see how deep it was already boiling.

We worked in silence after that. Not the easy kind—but the kind that crackled like a roaring fire, thick with unsaid tension. Jae mostly kept to himself, occasionally chiming in with suggestions no one asked for.

Eventually he left and the air eased slightly—but not much. The silence that followed wasn’t tense. Just… quieter. Still weighted, but less sharp—as though we’d collectively decided to pretend the earlier conversation hadn’t occurred.

Which is why I should’ve been focused. Should’ve been working.

Instead, I was sitting in the studio, watching Yoongi argue with himself over a single bassline.

“It’s still off,” he muttered, fingers tapping against the console.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “It’s fine.”

“It could be better.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

“And I was right.”

I groaned, flopping back against my chair. “Yoongi, if we tweak the mix again, we’re going to end up going down a rabbit hole and losing another three hours.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Just stared at the screen, expression unreadable. Then, finally—“Alright.”

I blinked. “Wait, what?”

He shrugged. “You’re right.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t like how easily you agreed.”

A slow smirk spread across his face. “Would you rather I argue with you?”

I huffed. “No, I’d rather you realize I’m always right.”

Yoongi hummed, leaning back in his chair. “See, that’s where you lose me.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the relieved smile that tugged at my lips.

And that was the problem. Because working with Yoongi should’ve been frustrating. It was frustrating. He was precise to the point of obsession, constantly second-guessing every note, every edit.

But it was also… fun.

The kind of fun that made me forget about the tension earlier. The kind that made me forget this was supposed to be a competition. The kind that made it hard to ignore the way he watched me when he thought I wasn’t looking. The kind that made it feel like we were on the edge of something else entirely.

I shook the thought away. “We should finalize the arrangement and send it to Professor Kang tonight.”

Yoongi nodded, but his gaze lingered on me. Then, after a moment, gently: “You good?”

I frowned, looking up at him in confusion. “What?”

He tilted his head slightly. “That was tense earlier. You seem wound up.”

I scoffed. “We have less than three weeks left before our final pitch. Everyone is wound up.”

He hummed, unconvinced. “It’s not just that.”

I hated how easily he could read me. Hated how he was always right.

Because it wasn't just the project. It was Jae. It was the way he’d been circling around me, throwing out cryptic remarks and testing the waters. 

It was the way Yoongi had reacted. 

The way he noticed.

I exhaled sharply. “I just hate that he’s forcing himself into my life—into our…project.”

Yoongi swore under his breath.

I eyed him—curious and slightly amused. “Why are you so worked up?”

He looked at me, gaze sharp. “Because he’s not here to work.”

I crossed my arms. “And you know that because?”

Yoongi leaned forward, voice dropping lower. “Because every time he talks to you, you look like you want to run.”

I froze.

His eyes flickered. “So, tell me, Y/N.” A pause. “What exactly did Jae do?”

My stomach twisted. I could’ve lied. Could’ve brushed it off like I always did. But I didn’t. Not this time.

Because Yoongi was waiting. Watching. And I knew, with unsettling certainty, that he wouldn't let this go. I could feel it in the way his fingers drummed lightly against the console, the way his sharp eyes lingered on my face as if he could pull the answers straight from my mind.

Yoongi’s question hung in the air between us.

I exhaled slowly, tapping my pen against my notebook. “You’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”

Yoongi tilted his head slightly, unimpressed. “That’s not an answer.”

I tried to focus on the project, flipping through my notes, but my hands felt unsteady. I didn't want to talk about Jae. I didn't want to drag up the past, not when I was already juggling so much.

The internship. My growing…thing with Yoongi. The constant stress of keeping it hidden.

Jae was not my priority right now.

“Just drop it,” I murmured.

Yoongi exhaled sharply through his nose but didn't push. Not yet.

Instead, he leaned forward, scanning our project timeline. “We just have to finalize the last song.”

The shift in topic was intentional. I knew it. But I also knew Yoongi. He wouldn’t let this go—he’d just be waiting for a better moment to strike.

I shook off the tension. “Then let’s finish it.”

We spend the next hour fine-tuning the mix, adjusting levels, and making last-minute changes to our presentation. It was surprisingly productive—mostly because Yoongi kept his mouth shut.

Which is how I knew something was coming.

Sure enough, as we were packing up for the night, he suddenly said, “We should go out.”

I blinked. “What?”

Yoongi shrugged, sliding his laptop into his bag. “You need a break.”

I scoffed. “I need sleep.”

He smirked. “One drink.”

I hesitated. Going out was a bad idea. Not because I didn’t want to, but because it was with him.

Because there was a dangerous appeal in seeing Yoongi outside the internship, away from the constant weight of deadlines and rankings.

Because I already knew I was bad at keeping my distance. And because he didn’t seem like he wanted me to.

I shook my head. “You just want an excuse to drink.”

He grinned. “So?”

I groaned. “Fine. But only for a little bit.”

----------------------------------------

Because every time I swore I’d keep my distance, he’d flash that infuriating half-smirk, and I’d find myself right back where I started—leaning into him, letting his warmth seep into my skin, letting him pull me into the kind of quiet comfort I hadn’t realized I needed. It was a cycle, an unspoken game. He’d push, and I’d pull away, and somehow we’d end up tangled in the middle, stuck between what we wanted and what we couldn’t admit. So, yeah. I was going to avoid him.

My mission was successful for all of five minutes.

It started in the library, a place that had been my safe space once. A place where I could actually focus, where I could go without him finding a way to distract me.

But I got too comfortable, forgetting that there was no such thing as a safe space when it came to Min Yoongi. Because as soon as I settled in my usual seat near the back corner—far from the loud study groups and whispered gossip—There he was.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just set his coffee down and slid into the chair across from me like it was his seat.

I glared at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Yoongi just flipped open a notebook, completely ignoring my tone. “Studying.”

“You know what I mean. Why are you here?”

He finally looked up, his gaze sharp with amusement. “You’re the one avoiding me again.”

I scowled. “I’m not—”

“Two days,” he cut in. “You haven’t said a word to me outside of class in two days.”

My stomach twisted. Had it really been that long?

I covered it with a shrug. “Maybe I just don’t have anything to say.”

Yoongi hummed, tapping his pen against the page. “I guess I’ll have to change that, then.”

I didn’t like the way he said that. I especially didn’t like the way he kicked his foot against mine under the table like it was an accident. It wasn’t. But I bit my tongue, focusing on my notes instead. Childish as he was, Yoongi wasn’t done.

The next time I reached for my coffee, he grabbed it first.

I blinked. “Excuse you?”

He took a slow sip—my sip—before setting it back down. “Tastes good.”

I could only stare. “You just—”

“Thought it was mine. Whoops,” he said casually, flipping a page in his notebook.

I narrowed my eyes. “Asshole.”

He just chuckled, continuing to breeze through the pages. 

—

The next time he cornered me was worse. After a small group meeting, just as I finished returning project materials to the old maintenance closet at the back of the now-empty classroom, he suddenly appeared, blocking my exit. I didn’t want to think too hard about how he knew I’d be here—especially for a meeting in a class we didn’t share.

He moved toward me with slow, deliberate steps. I retreated deeper into the closet, the narrow space closing in around us. He was too close—and he smelled too good.

I swallowed, forcing my mind back on track. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

His lips twitched. “Doing what?”

I narrowed my eyes. “You know what.”

He took a step closer, tilting his head. “If you don’t like it, why aren’t you stopping me?”

I didn’t have an answer because I should have stopped him. I should have shoved past him without a second thought and run away to safety.

But I didn’t.

I let him stand there, let him tilt his head just slightly, let him lower his voice when he spoke again.

“I told you already,” he murmured. “You can’t just avoid me.”

I exhaled sharply. “I’m a grown woman. I can do what I want.”

His gaze flicked to my lips. “Then do it.”

The challenge hung between us. I knew what he wanted. But I stood my ground, squaring my shoulders and meeting that smoldering gaze head-on.

Yoongi just smiled. For a moment, we stood like that—as if we were the only two people left on earth. Communicating with our eyes, challenging each other.

Devastatingly, I was overthrown—distracted by the sight of his tongue swiping tantalizingly across his plush lower lip.

And just like that, he knew he’d won. I could only surrender in defeat.

I let Yoongi close the space between us—one hand coming up, bracing against the wall beside my head. I let my eyelids flutter closed and waited. 

And waited.

A few seconds more.

Slowly I opened my eyes and he was just staring at me, that stupid cocky smirk on his face. And it infuriated me.

So I lifted my chin, pressing my back against the wall like it would somehow put more space between us. “If you’re going to kiss me, just do it already.”

Yoongi exhaled a quiet laugh. “You always ruin it.”

My stomach twisted at the implication. “Ruin what?”

But he just smirked. And then, suddenly, his lips were on mine. It wasn’t soft or hesitant. He wasn’t testing the waters or waiting for permission.

It was all-encompassing, impassioned—a quiet, smoldering claim that made my breath hitch, my hands curl into fists full of his dark hoodie, and my mind short-circuit. He was only kissing my lips, yet his warmth seeped into every part of me, washing over me like never before.

If my brain had been functioning properly, I might have realized it—I was really in trouble.

Because I kissed him back with just as much passion and need. Without thinking. Without hesitating. Without considering what it meant. I kissed him back, my hands threading into his hair before I could stop myself, my body leaning into him instead of away.

And Yoongi—he didn’t tease this time. He didn’t smirk or gloat or pull away just to taunt me.

He just kissed me. Deep and steady, his fingers tracing along my jaw like he needed this as much as I did.

Like he wasn’t just playing a game anymore. Like this had never been a game to begin with.

And that—that scared me more than anything.

Because it meant I was losing in more ways than one.

I should have pulled away sooner.

I should have stopped this before it became something I couldn’t ignore.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

I found myself getting lost in the warmth of his hands, the way his lips moved perfectly against mine, the quiet but unmistakable sound of his breath hitching when I gripped his hair just a little rougher.

It was too easy to forget. Too easy to pretend this wasn’t dangerous.

But then, as if some unseen force decided to remind me, a sharp knock echoed against the door.

I jerked back, breaking the kiss like I’d been caught doing something illegal.

Yoongi barely moved, his hands still cradling my face, thumb brushing my jaw as if he couldn’t let go. His eyes were unreadable, swirling with emotion, locked onto mine as if he were waiting to see what I’d do next.

Another knock, more insistent this time.

“Hey! What the hell? Is someone in there?”

My stomach dropped.

That was Amber’s voice.

Panic spiked through me, and I shoved at Yoongi’s chest, breaking the last of the lingering contact. He let me go without resistance, but the way he looked at me—half-lidded eyes, lips slightly swollen—made my already scrambled thoughts completely fly away.

“I hate you,” I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. I pressed the back of my hand against my mouth, like I could erase what just happened.

Yoongi’s smirk was slow, curling up at the edges. “No, you don’t.”

Before I could argue, Amber pounded on the door. “If you don’t open this door in the next five seconds, I’m getting security!”

I shot Yoongi a look.

He lifted a brow, completely unfazed.

“You should probably open that,” he said, voice maddeningly casual.

I hated how calm he was.

I hated that I was the only one spiraling.

And, most of all, I hated that he was right.

“Stay here and don’t come out until we leave!” I harshly whispered. Then I inhaled sharply, forcing my expression into something neutral before unlocking the door and stepping out.

Amber was immediately suspicious.

Her eyes narrowed the second she saw me, darting between my flushed face and the barely open door behind me. “What were you doing in there?”

Dying inside, I almost said.

“Nothing,” I muttered instead, brushing past her, but she followed, glancing back at the door like she knew something was off.

And then she gasped so loudly that I froze. I turned slowly, following her horrified gaze back to—

Oh.

Oh, no.

Yoongi was still standing in the doorway.

Looking entirely too comfortable with his clothes still wrinkled and his lips still too pink and swollen. I swore under my breath.

Amber’s jaw dropped. “No. Way.”

I was going to die.

Right here.

Right now.

But before I could deny everything, Yoongi tilted his head, looked me right in the eye, and smirked. And then he winked.

I wanted to disappear into the floor. Or scream. Or maybe both.

I moved fast.

Before she could even breathe another word, I grabbed her by the arm and dragged her down the hall, my heart pounding so hard it was making me dizzy.

“I—what—OW—okay, okay, I can walk on my own—what the hell, Y/N?!” Amber yelped, stumbling after me.

I didn’t stop until we were far from Yoongi’s line of sight, and even then, I whipped around so fast it made her flinch.

“You saw nothing.”

Amber blinked. Then, slowly, grinned. “Oh, I saw everything.”

I groaned so loudly I might have summoned the wrath of every ghost haunting this university.

Amber wiggled her eyebrows. “So, are you finally admitting that you’re in—”

“Nope! No! Absolutely not! Don’t even say it!”

Amber pouted. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

I shot her a look. “Because I know what you were gonna say, and you’re wrong. So wrong.”

Amber snorted. “Sure. You definitely weren’t getting hot and heavy with Yoongi in the closet back there.”

“Amber!”

She hummed. “I bet he’s a good kisser.”

I sputtered. “That is so not the point—”

“Oh my god.” Amber gasped again, eyes going wide. “He is, isn’t he?!”

I clamped a hand over her mouth. Amber muffled something against my palm, shaking with laughter.

I glared. “Swear to me you won’t say anything.”

She tilted her head, giving me an annoyingly innocent look.

“I swear I won’t say anything,” she said, voice muffled.

I squinted. “That sounds like a loophole.”

She batted her lashes.

I groaned. “I swear, Amber, if you so much as hint—”

She peeled my hand off her mouth. “Fine, fine, I won’t tell Krystal and Luna—”

I stiffened.

“—directly.”

“Amber.” I whined.

She grinned. “What? I have to be sneaky about it. It’s no fun if they don’t find out on their own.”

I buried my face in my hands. I was so doomed. And, to make things worse a voice, low and entirely too amused, spoke from behind me.

“You’re awfully loud for someone trying to keep a secret.”

I froze. Amber lit up. I knew before I even turned around. Yoongi was standing there, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching me like a cat with a very stupid mouse. I refused to look directly at him. Amber, on the other hand, looked like she just won the lottery.

“Oh, this is getting fun,” she muttered under her breath.

Yoongi tilted his head at me. “So? Are we keeping this a secret again this time?”

I exhaled sharply, finally looking at him, and hissed under my breath, “Yes, we’re keeping this a secret, you idiot.”

His smirk was slow.

“Then you’d better be more careful next time,” he murmured, voice just loud enough for only me to hear. Amber gasped again.

And Yoongi? He just walked away Like he hadn’t just said the single most dangerous thing possible.I was so doomed.

----------------------------------------

I had almost made it out of the building when I realized I’d left my notebook in one of the practice studios. Sighing, I turned back, trudging down the hallway with my head low. The familiar rhythm of the campus—quiet after hours, the sound of footsteps on polished floors—had a calming effect on me. Until I heard the soft chords of a piano.

I paused, then crept closer. Yoongi was alone in one of the smaller practice rooms, sitting at the piano with his sleeves pushed up, fingers idly pressing the keys. He wasn’t playing anything specific, just testing chords, lost in thought. I hadn’t meant to stop, but something about the way he worked—the intensity, the focus—pulled me in. He wasn’t just playing; he was feeling it, letting the music come from somewhere deep inside him. It was a side of him I hadn’t seen before, one that was raw and vulnerable. It was as if he was pouring his soul into each note, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I stood in the doorway of the room, watching him. A soft melody began to swirl in the air, and I found myself caught in the moment, not even bothering to hide my gaze.

He paused, scribbled something on a sheet of paper before his fingers found themselves back in place over the piano keys. I hovered in the doorway, debating whether to turn around before he noticed me.

Too late.

His eyes flicked up, a knowing smirk already forming. “Are you stalking me now?”

I scoffed, stepping inside like I hadn’t just been caught. “Please. If I was stalking you, you wouldn’t even know.”

His smirk deepened. “That supposed to impress me?”

“Clearly it does.”

Yoongi let out a low chuckle, shifting to face me fully. “So? What do you want?”

I should have said nothing. Should have come up with some excuse.

But instead, with one knee, I leaned against the empty space next to him on the bench, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “Play something for me.”

His brows lifted slightly, as if he wasn’t expecting that. He didn’t say anything for a moment, but the silence between us felt thick, like something unsaid was hanging in the air. Then, without a word, he turned back to the piano, fingers gliding over the keys in a melody I didn’t recognize—but one that settled into my bones like something I should have known all along.

My hands instinctively found the edge of the piano to steady myself. His presence was so magnetic, I couldn’t ignore it. I could feel the space between us closing, and the closer I got, the more my pulse quickened.

His melody came to an end and he turned to me again, lightly brushing against the exposed skin of my leg perched beside him. It was like a shock running through me. My breath caught at the feathery touch and I returned my leg to the floor. I couldn’t stop it. My body just responded that way, and it was hard to control.

“You always do that,” he murmured.

“Do what?”

His eyes studied me for a moment, a strange tension in his gaze. “Every time I get near you, you freeze up like you’re scared of me—like I'm gonna hurt you.”

My chest tightened, my fingers curling around the edge of the piano. I hadn’t realized that my body was giving off that impression. “Yoongi, that’s not it at all. I—” I paused, my words failing me for a moment.

But Yoongi’s gaze darkened slightly, and he leaned back in his seat, pulling away from me just a little. “Yeah, sure,” he said, his tone clipped. “If that’s what you want to believe.”

Yoongi’s words hung in the air between us, heavy and unshakable. My shoulders tensed, a shiver running down my spine.

“I mean, you do frighten me,” I finally muttered, arms crossing over my chest in an attempt to ground myself. His jaw tensed, but he didn’t stop playing. “But not because of that. It’s more like,” I trailed off.

I couldn’t say it. The words wouldn’t escape my lips, which I was biting to keep from shaking. But as I peeked at him from under the cover of my lashes I knew he understood.

Yoongi softened, taking in a slow and deliberate breath. “Is that so.”

It was more of a statement than a question. I couldn’t look at him anymore. My pulse had already betrayed me, hammering against my ribs like it wanted to escape. I hated this. Hated how easily he could do this to me.

And yet, I didn’t move away. Instead, I stayed, watching as he reached for the coffee cup on top of the piano and took a slow sip before setting it back down. The air in the room shifted then—felt lighter, but more intense than it had before.

Yoongi tapped one last note on the piano, then turned his full attention to me. “You gonna tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, or do I have to guess?”

“You’d be guessing forever.”

His lips twitched. “You think you’re that complicated?”

“I know I am.”

Yoongi exhaled a quiet laugh, tilting his head as he considered me. Then, before I could anticipate it, he reached out—fingers catching the edge of my skirt, barely holding on.

It was such a small thing, barely even a touch, but my body reacted before my brain could catch up, a sharp breath escaping before I could stop it.

Yoongi noticed. Of course he did. But he didn’t say anything this time. His grip on my skirt tightened just enough for me to feel it. “Or maybe you just don’t want to admit that you like this.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he wasn’t wrong. Because I did like this. I just wasn’t ready to say it.

As I made my way down the hallway, the word echoed in my head, sharp and undeniable.

Liar.

I avoided him the next day.

It wasn’t an obvious kind of avoidance—at least, not to anyone else. I still showed up at the internship office, still interacted with our mutual friends, and still made a show of rolling my eyes whenever his name was mentioned.

But I knew Yoongi wasn’t fooled. He didn’t push, didn’t chase me down or corner me like I half-expected him to. Instead, he gave me space—too much space. And that was somehow worse.

By the time the sun set, I found myself pacing my room, feeling restless in a way I couldn’t explain.

I was not going to text him first.

I was not going to—

My phone buzzed.

Yoongi: If you’re done throwing a tantrum, come over.

I stared at the screen.

The audacity.

The nerve.

My fingers moved before my brain could stop them.

Me: A tantrum? That’s rich coming from someone who sulks for sport.

The response came almost immediately.

Yoongi: Are you coming or not?

I should have said no.

I should have ignored him completely, let the tension simmer until it faded into something manageable.

But I was already grabbing my coat.

—

Yoongi’s place was dimly lit when I arrived, the familiar scent of coffee and something warm lingering in the air. He was leaning against the counter, watching me with that unreadable expression that made my stomach flip.

“You showed up,” he said, as if he hadn’t been sure I wouldn’t.

I crossed my arms. “I was in the neighborhood.”

His lips twitched. “Liar.”

I scowled. “Do you want to fight or not?”

That got a reaction—just not the one I expected.

Yoongi pushed off the counter, stepping closer, closing the space between us until I could feel the warmth radiating from him. “You think that’s why I asked you here?”

I swallowed. “If you wanted me to leave, you could have just—”

He tilted his head, studying me. “There you go again. Running.”

I hated that he could see through me. Hated that he knew. I let out a sharp breath. “I don’t know what you want from me, Min.”

He exhaled through his nose, his smirk softening into something almost thoughtful. “Maybe I just like having you around.”

I blinked. My heart thudded in my chest. There was a long, stretching moment where I swore the air between us shifted—where I could feel the weight of everything unspoken pressing against my ribs.

Then Yoongi, as always, ruined it.

He reached out, flicking my forehead lightly. “Don’t look so surprised. It’s embarrassing.”

I smacked his arm, scowling. “You’re the worst.” He grinned, stepping back like he’d won something.

I should have left. I should have rolled my eyes, thrown some snarky remark over my shoulder, and walked right out of Yoongi’s apartment.

Instead, I stayed.

He didn’t say anything when I dropped onto his couch, didn’t question it when I stole the blanket draped over the armrest and curled into it. He just grabbed his laptop and settled into the space beside me, like this was normal—like I hadn’t spent the last few days pretending I wasn’t sneaking off to be alone with him.

It was stupidly comfortable—domestic even.

The room was quiet except for the occasional sound of keys clicking, the low hum of the heater, the rhythmic tapping of Yoongi’s fingers against the edge of his laptop. I closed my eyes, feeling myself relax despite everything.

“You’re falling asleep,” he murmured after a while.

I cracked an eye open. “No, I’m not.”

Yoongi huffed out a laugh, shifting to nudge my foot with his own. “You really suck at lying.”

I wanted to argue, but I was too warm, too comfortable, too—

“Tired,” I mumbled.

In my drowsy daze I didn’t register the shift at first, the way the cushions dipped, the way the blanket was adjusted ever so slightly. Then—A hand, warm and solid, brushed against my knee.

I froze.

I wasn’t sure if he meant to do it—if it was accidental, if he was just shifting positions. But when I didn’t move away or push him off, he didn’t either. Slowly, carefully, his fingers traced an absentminded path down to my calf, then back up again.

I swallowed.

“This is a bad idea,” I murmured.

Yoongi hummed, noncommittal. “Probably.”

I really should have pulled away. But I didn’t.

Instead, I turned my head slightly, peeking up at him through my lashes. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—dark and sharp, half-lidded in the dim lighting—were locked on mine. I swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close we were.

Then, before I could talk myself out of it—before I could think too hard and convince myself to run—Yoongi leaned in.

It was slow. Deliberate. A silent question. I didn’t answer with words. Didn’t need to. I just met him halfway.

The moment our lips touched, something inside me snapped. Yoongi wasn’t hesitant—wasn’t careful or unsure. The second I melted against him, his hands were on me, pulling me in, one hand curling against my waist like he didn’t want to let go.

I made a small noise in the back of my throat, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

His other hand slid up my spine, fingers pressing into the base of my neck, tilting my head to deepen the kiss. It was intoxicating—too much and not enough, all at once. I gripped his hoodie hoping to ground myself, but it didn’t help. Nothing could have prepared me for the way my pulse skipped when he nipped at my lower lip, teasing, testing.

I gasped, and he smirked. Cocky bastard.

I pulled back just enough to glare at him, breathless. “You’re enjoying this.”

Yoongi’s grip on my waist tightened. “You aren’t?”

I hated him, hated how smug he sounded, how confident, how—

I yanked him back down, cutting off whatever snarky remark he was about to make.

If he wanted to play this game, I’d make sure he lost. The problem was, neither of us wanted to lose.

Yoongi wasn’t the type to give in easily, and neither was I. That kiss—it was a challenge as much as it was anything else. A battle neither of us was willing to surrender. Which was probably why neither of us stopped.

He tugged me closer until I was practically in his lap. I should have been embarrassed, but the way he was looking at me—dark eyes flickering with something unreadable—made it impossible to focus on anything else.

I wasn’t thinking. Not about the internship, not about our so-called rivalry, not about what would happen when I walked out of here and had to face the reality of whatever this was. I was only thinking about how warm his hands were. How easy it was to get lost in him. How good he tasted.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, Yoongi pulled back. Not all the way—just enough to smirk down at me, his breath still ghosting over my lips. I stared at him, dazed.

He looked entirely too pleased with himself. “Something wrong?” His voice was low, teasing.

I narrowed my eyes. “No.”

Yoongi tilted his head slightly, like he didn’t quite believe me. “You sure? You look—” His fingers traced a slow path down my spine. “—a little flustered.”

I wasn’t. I refused to be. So I forced a smirk, shifting slightly in his grip, softly tugging my fingers through his hair just to watch his expression flicker. His breath caught for half a second, so quick I almost missed it.

Almost.

I leaned in just enough to whisper, “Not flustered. Just thinking.”

He raised a brow. “About?”

I shrugged, keeping my voice deliberately casual. “How much fun it’s going to be ignoring you tomorrow.”

Yoongi blinked. Then he laughed. Deep and quiet, like I’d just amused him more than anything in the world.

I scowled. “Why is that funny?”

“You think you’re gonna ignore me?” He shook his head, grin sharp. “That’s cute.”

“I can ignore you.”

He hummed. “Mmm. We’ll see.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off, leaning in again.

For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me again. My breath caught, my body betraying me by tilting forward instinctively.

But at the last second, he swerved, pressing his lips just below my ear instead.

And then, in the most infuriatingly smug tone, he whispered, “It’s getting late, sweetheart.”

I shoved him away.

Yoongi just laughed again, watching me scramble off the couch with the same lazy amusement.

I was going to kill him.

Or kiss him again.

Probably both.

----------------------------------------

A/n: I know it's been like a month since my last posted chapter 😢 June has been crazy; I got a new job, have been traveling, and some family and medical things all happened back to back. I've not been able to write anything, but still have a couple pre-written chapters that I'll post over the next few weeks. If you're reading this, thanks for being patient with me~ Hope you like this update!

The further I got, the quieter it became. Rows of small shops and hidden alleyways took the place of the bustling campus buildings, and the whole area felt like a secret corner of the city. When I finally reached the restaurant, I almost did a double-take. It was nestled between a bakery and a secondhand bookstore, its exterior a mix of soft wood tones and pastel accents. Small potted plants hung from the awning, and a chalkboard sign out front advertised the daily specials in loopy, cheerful handwriting.

Yoongi was already there, leaning against the doorframe with his phone in hand. He looked up as I approached, slipping his phone into his pocket and giving me a small nod. I couldn’t hide my surprise, and he raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk pulling at his lips.

When we met up, the tension was thick. I could tell he was aware of the bet now, but he wasn’t saying anything directly. He just kept that same teasing grin on his face, like he was enjoying watching me squirm. But instead of asking outright, he started playing the part of someone who had no idea what my friends were up to.

“So,” he said casually, stirring his drink. “You wanna make this official, or are we still pretending?”

I nearly choked on my bite, not sure if I had heard him correctly. “What?”

Yoongi looked completely unfazed, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Your friends are determined to see us on an ‘actual date’. I’m available to play along. I’ll even make it look good. You just gotta let me know.”

I stared at him, blinking, the weight of his words sinking in. Was he seriously suggesting we go along with this fake date thing? I opened my mouth to protest, but instead, I found myself agreeing. 

“Fine. But just so you know, you’re going to pay for everything.”

Yoongi grinned. “Deal. You’ll thank me later.”

Hesitantly you asked, “What do you have in mind?”

He took out his phone and opened the camera, angling it so the restaurant’s cozy, date-like atmosphere was on full display. "We could post something, make it look like we’re on a date. Your friends won’t be able to resist showing up."

A grin spread across my face as I caught on. "And we can play dumb, act like it’s a coincidence."

"Exactly." He snapped a quick photo of his plate, a glimpse of my hand just visible reaching for a drink. He uploaded it to his story with a geotag of the restaurant, knowing it was a spot known for being a romantic hideaway. As soon as it was up, I pulled out my own phone, making sure my friends saw it before Yoongi deleted the post with a casual swipe.

We shared a conspiratorial look, and for a moment, the tension between us melted into something lighter—something almost fun.

"Now we wait," he said, popping a fry into his mouth with a smirk.

Within minutes, I spotted them. My friends stumbled through the restaurant door in their terrible “disguises,” eyes darting around the room until they landed on us. It was impressive, really, how they managed to get here so soon. I nudged Yoongi’s foot under the table, and he caught on immediately. It was go time.

Amber, Luna, and Krystal slid into a booth a few tables away, failing miserably at looking inconspicuous. Yoongi reached across the table, taking my hand gently in his. Warmth flooded my cheeks, and I couldn’t help it. I knew this was all a ruse, but the way his eyes held mine—so intently, as if he was trying to tell me something—left me breathless. Something I couldn’t bring myself to understand or accept.

I turned to look out the window, hiding from the weight of his gaze while his fingers played with mine. I hoped he wouldn’t notice the smile I was struggling to keep down.

After a while, our food was gone, and I could feel my friends' gazes burning holes into the back of my head. Yoongi shot me a knowing look, and I nodded. Time to up the ante.

We paid the bill, and I made a show of standing up slowly, pretending not to see the trio hastily hiding behind their menus. Yoongi slipped his arm around my waist as we left, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

Outside, he kept up the act, his hand lingering on my hip as we walked away from the restaurant. Once we rounded the corner, I exhaled, and he chuckled under his breath.

"Think they’ll follow us?" he asked.

"Probably," I said, glancing over my shoulder. "Might as well give them a show."

I couldn’t stop feeling ridiculous. We walked around the city, stopping for ice cream, and acted like any normal couple—laughing, chatting about random things, making it look like we were actually together. It wasn’t that hard, honestly. Yoongi was good at making things seem natural, like nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

It was a weird game we were playing, and I wasn’t sure if I was annoyed or relieved to be doing it. There was a strange comfort in it, in pretending for a little while that the lines between reality and pretense were blurred. Maybe that was the part that scared me—the fact that it didn’t feel as fake as it should have. The more we walked, the more I let myself fall into the act, wondering if he felt the same undercurrents of truth threading through the charade.

The evening was drawing to a close when we stopped at a small park bench near the water. Yoongi leaned against the railing, his arms crossed.

 “Well, that was fun. Should we tell them now?”

I snorted, rolling my eyes. “Nope. Those idiots will be funding my snack addiction for the next week.”

He smiled, and I caught the flicker of something in his eyes—something more than just teasing. But before I could say anything, he stepped closer to me, his hand brushing against mine. My breath caught in my throat.

Then, almost as an afterthought, he kissed me. It wasn’t passionate or full of meaning, just a quick peck on the lips—so fast I barely had time to process it. But it lingered in the air between us, an echo of something unspoken. His lips were soft, his breath warm against mine, and I could still feel the phantom touch of him even after he pulled away.

Yoongi’s expression remained steady, but the corner of his mouth lifted into that same mischievous grin. “There. Now they’ve got something to work with.”

I could only manage to blink up at him, my ears ringing. What the hell was this? That wasn’t a part of our agreed plan. My mind raced, replaying the moment in slow motion, dissecting every detail, every brush of his skin against mine.

“What…” I started, my voice trailing off. I swallowed, trying to find my footing. “What was that for?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked past me, out over the water, his expression softening just a fraction. When he finally met my gaze, the teasing spark had dulled, replaced by something more vulnerable. "Just making sure it’s believable," he said, but there was a waver in his tone, a slight hesitation that made my pulse quicken.

I wanted to push, to ask him if it was really just for the act. But the words stuck to the roof of my mouth, too heavy, too dangerous. Instead, I forced a laugh, light and airy, like I wasn’t falling apart at the seams. “Well, mission accomplished.”

His thumb grazed my hand one last time before he let go, and the loss of his touch felt sharper than I wanted to admit. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his shoulders tensing as if bracing against the wind. And I stood there, staring at him, wondering if I was the only one who felt like the line between act and reality had just shattered.

Yoongi’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out with a sigh. “I’ve got to go. Studio stuff.”

I nodded, swallowing back the lump in my throat. “Yeah, sure. I’ll catch up with you later.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on me as if he wanted to say more. But then he just nodded and turned away, walking off into the dimming twilight, leaving me alone with the echo of his kiss and a thousand unanswered questions.

I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and turned toward the direction of my friends. They hadn’t been subtle in their stalking, and sure enough, I found them huddled at a nearby bench, each of them wearing their best attempt at nonchalance. Amber's hat was pulled low over her eyes, Luna held a menu up like a makeshift shield, and Krystal pretended to be engrossed in her phone, holding it upside down.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Enjoying the show?”

Amber dropped the act immediately, her grin stretching from ear to ear. “Y/N, you dirty dog! You kissed him! We saw EVERYTHING!”

Luna elbowed her, practically buzzing with excitement. “And don’t even think you can weasel out of it—we’ve got PICTURES. We won! You and Yoongi are totally dating!”

“Yeah, about that…” I crossed my arms, letting a slow smirk crawl onto my face. “The bet ended two hours ago. Ergo, you three are officially my snack ATMs.”

Their jaws hit the floor at the same time. Krystal made a strangled noise, like she couldn’t quite process the words. “Wait—what? No way!”

“Oh yes way,” I said, pulling up the timestamp on my phone. “Seven days, and you didn’t catch us once. This whole fake date today? Total sham. Time to pay up, ladies.”

Amber groaned dramatically, dragging her hands down her face. “I knew we should’ve followed you that night at the library…”

Luna looked like she might cry. “My wallet is already sobbing.”

Krystal slouched against Amber, defeated. “I’m never betting with you again.”

I shrugged, slipping my phone back into my pocket. “A bet’s a bet. Now, who’s buying me ice cream?”

----------------------------------------

"Nowhere."

Krystal scoffed. "Liar. You were acting weird all day, and then, poof—mysteriously gone."

"And we know you weren’t home because we checked," Luna added smugly.

I blinked. "You what?"

Amber shrugged. "We called, you didn’t answer, so we took matters into our own hands."

"By breaking and entering?"

"By opening your unlocked door," Krystal corrected. "Seriously, you should be more careful."

I dropped my head onto the table. "Dear Lord. Please send help."

Amber ignored that. "So... you gonna tell us who he is?"

"There is no ‘he.’"

Luna hummed, clearly not convinced. "You’ve been smiling at your phone a lot. And disappearing. And the other day, you sighed in the middle of class like a woman whose lover has just gone off to war."

Amber pointed a finger at me. "That part. Heavy on the lover."

I groaned again. "I sighed because I was tired. A man can’t be tired anymore?"

Krystal waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. But we’re gonna find out eventually."

I lifted my head just enough to glare at them. "You all deserve the gas chamber."

"Aww," Amber put a hand to her chest. "You and your lover will be right there with us, Sweaty."

Krystal and Luna made little hearts with their fingers and blew kisses at me. I dropped my back onto the table. Hard. A few times.

I could feel my sanity slipping.

—

I finished my classes for the day and—after barely surviving another round of my friends’ relentless interrogations—I texted Yoongi.

Me: My friends are stalking me T-T Yoongi: Sounds like a you problem. Me: I’m serious. They’re obsessed. I think they’re tailing me. Yoongi: So? Let them. Me: YOU let them. Yoongi: …I have a better idea. Me: Should I be worried? Yoongi: Probably.

I sighed. I didn’t like that answer at all.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed again.

Yoongi: Meet me at 8.

I groaned. Why was it always at 8?

—

Later that evening, I found myself once again regretting every life choice that led me here. I had barely stepped onto campus when my phone buzzed.

Yoongi: Look to your left.

I frowned but did as he said. Across the courtyard, Amber, Krystal, and Luna were not so discreetly lurking behind a vending machine. I swore under my breath. They were actually tailing me.

Me: This is a nightmare. Yoongi: Relax. I told you, I have a plan. Me: I’m actually scared. Yoongi: Good. Now be a good girl and stay put. Me: Excuse you?

Before I could fire off a well-deserved insult, I felt someone grab my wrist and yank me into a secluded hallway. I barely had time to yelp before I was met with a very smug-looking Min Yoongi.

"What the hell—"

"Shh." He pressed a single finger to my lips, looking way too entertained. "You’re gonna ruin the show."

I opened my mouth to argue, but then I saw them. Amber, Krystal, and Luna had left their hiding spot and were frantically scanning the area where I’d just been standing.

Yoongi grinned. "They lost you."

I scowled. "Great. Now what? We hide in this dank little hallway forever?"

"Nope." He tugged me closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Now comes the fun part."

Yoongi slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me flush against him. Then, before I could even process what was happening, he had crouched down and hoisted my legs up and around his waist. My hands braced against his chest and my brain short-circuited.

"WHAT ARE YOU—"

"Shhh," he drawled, "just trust me."

My heart was beating out of my chest. "This feels a helluva lot like something I should not trust." I whisper-yelled.

He smirked. “Exactly. Now, hold still, cowgirl.” He emphasized the word "cowgirl" by giving my ass a playful slap.

With that, he took a step back into the open—still holding me up firmly by the thighs—and started walking.

Right toward my friends.

Oh.

My.

God.

Amber, Krystal, and Luna froze mid-conversation. I watched the moment their brains broke. Amber’s mouth literally fell open. Krystal choked on her drink. Luna’s eyes went so wide I thought they’d pop out of her skull. I could see the gears struggling to turn in their heads.

Yoongi, the absolute menace that he was, only tightened his grip and smirked at them like he was enjoying this.

"Evening, ladies."

And then he kept walking.

Just like that. No explanation. No nothing. Just me, bopping along in his arms while my friends stared after us like we had just set their entire reality on fire. I let my head drop onto his shoulder, pure embarrassment burning through my entire body like gasoline on a blazing fire.

"Yoongi," I hissed as soon as we turned the corner, "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!"

He laughed, setting me down. "Problem solved."

I gaped at him. "HOW? How is that a solution?!"

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking entirely too pleased. "Well, now they don’t have to wonder anymore."

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Amber: CAFE IN 10 MINUTES! Krystal: And don’t be late, you whore!

"Oh my God, they’re gonna KILL ME!"

He snorted. "You’ll live."

I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. "You are the actual devil."

Yoongi grinned. "Thank you."

—

I took a deep breath before pushing open the door to the café where Amber, Krystal, and Luna were waiting. I tried to act as if nothing had happened earlier with Yoongi. My heart raced at the memory, but I forced a casual demeanor as I slid into the chair across from them.

“You’re late!” Amber exclaimed, her eyes narrowing. “What were you up to?”

“Oh, you know,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “Just hanging out with Yoongi. No big deal.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, a skeptical look on her face. “No big deal? You mean the guy who just carried you across the courtyard like a giant sack of laundry? That’s definitely a big deal.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to brush it off. “He does that all the time. It's just a little fun, nothing serious.”

Amber leaned forward, unconvinced. “Really? Because that’s not something people who aren’t dating do.”

“Please,” I said, trying to sound aloof. “I’ve seen him do worse.”

“Worse?” Amber exclaimed. “Like what? Eat your ass platonically?”

“Okay you’re being dramatic,” I laughed, trying to sound casual. “But it’s nothing. Just weirdo Yoongi being weirdo Yoongi.”

Amber exchanged a knowing look with Luna, clearly not buying my act. “You sure you’re not secretly dating him?” she teased, a smirk creeping across her face.

“Please,” I scoffed. “We’re just friends now. Barely.”

“Right,” Luna said, crossing her arms. “And I’m the Queen of England.”

“Okay, maybe he’s a little fun to be around,” I admitted, shrugging. “But it’s not like we’re head over heels for each other or anything.”

Amber raised an eyebrow. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

The conversation drifted after that, the topic of Yoongi slipping away into the usual mix of gossip and casual banter. By the time we left the café it was well after dark and we decided to chill out at Amber’s place. We were comfortably sprawled on her couch, a movie playing in the background when the topic of Yoongi resurfaced. I thought I’d finally escaped the topic, but I should’ve known better. I tried to focus on the movie playing in the background, but Amber and Luna wouldn’t let it go.

“Seriously, though,” Amber said, leaning forward. “You’re not dating him, right?”

I waved my hand dismissively. “No! It was just a silly stunt. You guys are making way too big of a deal out of it.”

Luna rolled her eyes. “Not buying it. That was way too flirty to just be ‘friends.’”

Krystal chimed in, clearly convinced. “I dunno, I think it was real. Although you two are definitely still hiding something.”

I shook my head. “It was just a joke, I promise!”

Amber and Luna exchanged glances, still unconvinced. “Okay, let’s make a bet,” Amber suggested, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “If we catch you two together on an actual date, you owe us dinner at that new place downtown.”

Krystal smirked and then quickly added, “And if we can’t catch you by the end of the week, we’ll leave you and Yoongi alone.”

I opened my mouth to protest but realized I didn’t want to get caught in a lie. “You guys are ridiculous! You’re not going to catch anything because there's nothing to catch!”

“Challenge accepted!” Luna exclaimed, her competitive spirit ignited. “I’ll be your shadow!”

Amber grinned. “And I’ll be her shadow!”

“Fine!” I threw my hands up in mock defeat, knowing full well I’d have to navigate this chaotic situation. “But just know, if you lose, you’re buying all my snacks for a week.”

“Deal!” Amber and Luna said in unison, sealing the bet with a high five.

As they giggled about their plan, I felt a mix of anxiety and excitement. This was going to be a mess, and deep down, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

—

The next week started off as normal as ever. Classes dragged, internship meetings were tedious, and I kept my head down, focusing on my work. Or at least, I tried to. It was nearly impossible to ignore the three pairs of eyes constantly glued to me from every direction. Amber, Krystal, and Luna watched me like I might suddenly sprout wings and fly off if they blinked.

It was cute at first—the way they'd lean in and exchange smirks whenever Yoongi and I so much as made eye contact. How they'd giggle like schoolgirls whenever we passed each other in the hall or agreed with each other during project meetings. But by Wednesday, the novelty had worn off. Now, it was just plain annoying.

Every time I met up with Yoongi, it felt like I was being watched, even though I knew my friends weren’t actually following me around. Still, the occasional text from Luna or Amber would pop up, asking where I was, who I was with, what I was doing. I’d roll my eyes at each one, but I couldn’t exactly tell them to lay off. They weren’t wrong—I was keeping something from them.

And Yoongi? He seemed completely unphased by all of this. He still hadn’t found out about the bet, and honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or terrified. It was only a matter of time before he caught on, but for now, he was blissfully ignorant, going about his day as if everything between us was as casual as ever.

Thursday evening we met up at the usual campus diner. I’d been avoiding the place all week, not wanting to risk running into my friends, but Yoongi had insisted, and I didn’t have a good excuse not to go. We slipped into a corner booth, and I was about to take a sip of my water when he casually dropped a bomb.

“So, your friends are being weird. Anything you wanna tell me?” he asked, looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

My hand froze mid-air, the glass barely inches from my lips. Okay, so maybe Yoongi wasn’t as oblivious as I thought. I set the glass down slowly, meeting his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Yoongi leaned back in his seat, his usual lazy grin on his face. “I mean, they’ve been following us around, asking if we’re ‘just friends,’ or if there’s something more going on. It’s like they’re pretending to be little detectives.”

My stomach dropped. I knew they were being dramatic, but I hadn’t realized they were being so obvious. I thought I was doing a good job keeping things low-key, keeping them from raising his suspicions.

“Oh, you know them,” I said quickly, trying to deflect. “They’re just being nosy. It’s not everyday bad boy Yoongi leaves his crew to mingle with the enemy, ya know.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Maybe. But I get the feeling they know you well enough to see that there is something more between us.”

I nearly choked on my coffee. “What?”

He smirked, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Just a thought.”

I sighed, feeling both embarrassed and a little annoyed. “It’s not like I made a bet that they would catch us on a date or anything. I didn’t even want them to know about my—” I stopped myself before I could say anything more revealing about my feelings for him—not that I even knew what those feelings were yet.

Yoongi’s smirk softened into something a little more genuine, like he understood exactly how I felt. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure we don’t give them more fuel to work with.”

I appreciated the sentiment, but the way he said it made my stomach flip. What kind of game was he playing, exactly?

We spent the next half hour talking about everything else, but my mind kept drifting back to the bet. There was no way they’d let it go. I just needed to get through the next three days without the girls catching us alone or Yoongi doing anything else crazy for attention.

----------------------------------------

I huffed. “And if I tell you to shove your ‘incentives’ up your ass.”

“Then I hope you enjoy Amber’s interrogation methods.”

I shuddered. Amber alone was terrifying. But with Krystal and Luna? I wouldn’t last a day. And Yoongi knew it. He definitely saw my resolve waver because he took a step closer, eyes gleaming with victory. Instinctively, I stepped back, avoiding his gaze.

“So? What’s it gonna be?”

Another step forward. Another step back. And then—my legs hit something, and before I could catch myself, I stumbled, landing ungracefully onto the couch behind me. I barely had time to recover before Yoongi closed the distance, hands bracing on either side of me—his left on the back of the couch just above my head, his right settling next to mine on the armrest. I was trapped.

I exhaled sharply, shoulders slumping. “Fine. But I have conditions.”

His lips twitched. “You’re negotiating with me? Bold.”

I ignored him. “One, we only meet up off-campus—”

“Suspicious, but okay.”

I scowled. “Two, we do normal things. No weird Yoongi-style activities.”

He hummed. “Define normal.”

I rolled my eyes. “I dunno like… coffee shops. Movies. Stuff that doesn’t involve me questioning my life choices.”

“Boring, but fine.” He looked entirely unbothered. “Next?”

I hesitated, then pointed at him. “No flirting.”

He outright laughed. “Now that’s really unrealistic.”

“I mean it, Min.”

“Sure, sure.” He was still smirking. “No flirting. Anything else, your highness?”

I pursed my lips, feeling like I’d somehow already lost this battle. “…That’s it.”

Yoongi nodded, straightening up. “Great. First meetup is tomorrow.”

I gaped. “Tomorrow? We just made this deal—”

“And I’m holding up my end of the bargain.” His smirk deepened. “Unless you’d rather I stop by Namjoon’s on my way out?”

I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose. “Fine.”

“Smart girl. Pick you up at eight.” He tapped me lightly on the nose before walking out of the studio. 

I turned to argue, but he was already gone, leaving me sitting there with the sinking realization that I’d just walked into a trap. I let out a slow breath, running a hand down my face as the sinking realization settled in.

"Why is it always eight?" I muttered under my breath, scowling at the empty doorway.

—

I was already regretting this.

Yoongi had given me an address, a simple “Meet me here at 8” text, and nothing else. And now, as I stood in front of a tiny, dimly lit bookstore tucked into an alleyway, I wondered if I was about to get lured into some kind of underground crime syndicate.

I pulled out my phone and texted him.

Me: Are you serious? A bookstore? Yoongi: You said normal. Me: Normal people go to cafes, not creepy side-street bookstores! Yoongi: You’re here, aren’t you?

I clenched my jaw. Smug bastard.

Before I could type out an appropriately scathing reply, the door creaked open. Yoongi leaned against the frame, looking effortlessly cool in his usual black ensemble, one hand shoved into his pocket.

“Coming in, or are you just gonna loiter suspiciously?”

I glared. “Is this where you take all your enemies to bond?”

“Only my favorite ones.” His lips twitched. “Now get inside before you get snatched off the street.”

I grumbled but stepped in, the scent of old paper and ink immediately wrapping around me like a warm blanket. The shop was cozy, with overstuffed chairs and little lamps casting golden pools of light over the shelves. It was quiet, save for the distant rustling of pages and a soft jazz tune playing from a record player in the corner.

Yoongi led me toward the back, where a small, tucked-away reading nook was hidden. A tiny café counter sat nearby, offering tea and pastries.

I folded my arms. “This is your idea of a fun night out?”

Yoongi sat down in an armchair and stretched out lazily. “You’re the one who wanted normal.”

I scoffed. “Most people would pick a movie or dinner, not a library for hipsters.”

“Most people are boring.” He flipped open a book and looked at me expectantly. “Well? Pick something.”

I frowned. “Pick what?”

“A book. That’s what you do in a bookstore.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicious. “Why do I feel like this is a test?”

Yoongi smirked but didn’t confirm or deny.

I sighed, scanning the shelves before grabbing a book at random. I plopped down across from him and flipped it open. Fine. If this is what he wanted, I’d play along.

Minutes passed.

Then half an hour.

And to my horror… I actually started enjoying myself.

The silence was surprisingly comfortable. Every once in a while, I’d glance up and catch Yoongi watching me over the edge of his book, his expression unreadable. The air felt charged, but not in an unbearable way. It was just… there.

Eventually, I cleared my throat. “You’re being weirdly quiet.”

Yoongi’s eyes flickered with amusement. “Didn’t know you wanted me to talk.”

I scowled. “I didn’t say all that.”

“Hm.” He shut his book and leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand. “You’re having fun.”

I scoffed. “No, I’m not.”

He smirked. “Liar.”

I turned back to my book, determined to ignore him.

I wasn’t having fun.

Definitely not.

…Right?

The silence stretched again, but now it felt heavier, like Yoongi was waiting for something. Finally, he spoke, voice quieter than before. “You don’t read often, do you?”

I raised a brow in confusion. “What makes you say that?”

“You’ve been reading the same page for ten minutes.”

My face heated. “Maybe I’m just really taking it in.”

He chuckled, leaning back again. “Right. Or maybe you’re too busy thinking about me.”

I snapped my book shut. “Wow, someone’s full of himself.”

Yoongi just grinned. “Am I wrong?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. He took my silence as victory, his smug expression deepening.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you’re still here.”

I huffed, crossing my arms. “Only to make sure you keep your mouth shut.”

“Mm.” He hummed. “If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

I grabbed the nearest pillow from one of the chairs and threw it at him. He dodged it easily, laughing under his breath before going back to his book.

And somehow, despite my better judgment… I stayed.

—

I was not thinking about Yoongi.

I was not replaying the quiet moments in that bookstore, the way he’d smirked when he caught me actually enjoying myself, or the way his voice had softened just the slightest bit when he told me to pick something.

Nope. Not happening.

“Earth to Y/N.”

A hand waved in front of my face, and I blinked back into reality. Amber, Krystal, and Luna were staring at me expectantly from across the cafeteria table, their trays half-empty and their expressions far too amused for my liking.

“What?” I asked defensively.

Amber snorted. “You’ve been zoning out for the past five minutes. I asked you if you wanted to come to the new karaoke bar on Saturday, and you just sat there, staring into space like a lovesick fool.”

I choked on my water. “Excuse me?”

Krystal arched her brow. “So, who’s the guy?”

“There’s no guy!” I said way too quickly.

Luna gasped. “There’s totally a guy.”

“There is no guy,” I repeated, glaring at them.

Amber tapped a finger against her chin. “You have been acting weird lately…”

“I have not. That is a false accusation.”

Krystal smirked. “You so have. First, you were avoiding Yoongi like he had the plague. Now, you’re spacing out mid-conversation? Highly suspicious.”

I rolled my eyes. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Luna hummed. “So you wouldn’t mind if we asked Yoongi about it?”

I froze. That was exactly what they wanted—some kind of reaction, some kind of proof that they were onto something. But I refused to give them the satisfaction. I leaned back in my seat, feigning nonchalance.

“Go ahead. He’ll just glare at you until you leave him alone.”

Amber frowned. “That’s true… He is kinda scary.”

Krystal nodded. “Yeah, but only to other people. He’s awfully chatty with you.”

I clenched my jaw. Damn it. They had noticed.

Luna’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Wait—what if Yoongi is the guy?”

The air around the table shifted.

I forced out a laugh. “Okay, now I know you’re all insane.”

Amber squinted at me. “That wasn’t a denial.”

“It was. And this is stupid!” I gestured vaguely in frustration. “Have you seen me and Yoongi? We argue constantly. We don’t even like each other.”

Krystal pursed her lips. “And yet, you’re being very defensive right now.”

I groaned, grabbing my tray. “I’m leaving.”

Luna gasped dramatically. “She’s running away! That means we’re right!”

I flipped them off over my shoulder. “You guys need hobbies!”

As I stomped away, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and nearly tripped over my own feet.

Yoongi: Did you get caught?

My face burned. I spun around, scanning the cafeteria until my eyes landed on him, sitting at a table near the back. His friends were talking around him, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was watching me. And smirking. I gritted my teeth and typed furiously.

Me: No. But they’re suspicious. Me: This is your fault. Yoongi: My fault? Me: Yes! You keep looking at me. Stop it! Yoongi: But you’re so fun to mess with.

I nearly screamed.

He was so infuriating.

—

I had made a huge mistake.

A terrible, irreversible mistake.

Because the more time I spent alone with Yoongi, the harder it was to convince myself that I didn’t like it. That I didn’t—shouldn’t—enjoy the way he always leaned in too close just to see me squirm. Or the way his voice fell quiet, deep and rumbling, as he teasing whenever we were alone.

The problem was, avoiding him meant facing my other problem—my friends. And considering they were actively trying to uncover a nonexistent relationship, spending time with Yoongi had become the easier option.

Which was exactly how I ended up here, sitting across from him in the dim corner of a tiny ramen shop just off campus. I poked at my noodles, trying very hard not to look at him.

“You’re quiet today,” Yoongi mused, breaking apart his chopsticks.

I huffed. “Maybe I just don’t have anything to say.”

He tilted his head. “That’d be a first.”

I shot him a glare, but he just smirked.

Annoying.

Silence settled between us—comfortable, but charged. It was always like this. Like an invisible thread had tied itself between us, pulling just enough to make its presence known but never enough to snap.

He leaned forward slightly. “They’re still onto you?”

I groaned. “Worse. Amber almost asked you about it today.”

Yoongi arched his brow. “Almost?”

I scowled. “They still think you’re intimidating.”

He hummed like that was amusing to him. “Smart of them.”

I rolled my eyes. “You enjoy this too much.”

“Of course I do,” he said simply, resting his chin in his hand. “Watching you panic is entertaining.”

“I’m not panicking.”

Yoongi snorted. “Right.”

I threw a piece of scallion at him. He dodged it effortlessly, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

We ate in relative quiet after that, though I kept sneaking glances at him—not because I wanted to, but because it was weird seeing him like this. No moody scowl, no sharp remarks, just… Yoongi.

At one point, he caught me staring. “What?”

I smirked. “You look really happy right now.”

He raised a brow. “And?”

I leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s just funny. For a guy who tries so hard to be all emo and mysterious, you sure light up over a bowl of ramen.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue. “I don’t ‘try’ to be anything.”

“Uh-huh.” I gave him a knowing look. “Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me you don’t own at least ten black hoodies.”

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I know I’m funny.” I grinned. “And you, Min Yoongi, are secretly soft.”

He leaned forward slightly, voice lowering. “If I’m so soft, then why are you blushing?”

I blinked. “I’m not—”

“You’re 100% blushing.” His smirk deepened. A pause and then— “It’s cute.”

I stammered. “How would you even know I’m blushing?”

He laughed incredulously, “What, you think cause you’re black you don’t blush?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but as usual, I couldn’t think of anything smart to say. Instead I scoffed, shoving a piece of napkin at him, “Wipe that smug look off your face.”

He chuckled but took the napkin anyway, dabbing at his lips with an exaggeratedly polite motion. “Better?”

I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks still felt warm.

When we finished, we stepped outside into the crisp night air, the glow of streetlights washing over the nearly empty sidewalk. I shoved my hands into my pockets, still feeling the warmth of the ramen in my stomach.

“Amber said I was acting like a lovesick fool today,” I muttered, kicking at a loose pebble.

Yoongi laughed. “Were you?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

I glared at him. “Yes.”

He shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Too bad.”

I frowned. “Too bad what?”

Yoongi exhaled, his breath fogging slightly in the cold. “Would’ve been nice if you finally admitted it.”

I just stared at him. I had nothing to say to that.

Nothing at all.

Instead, I turned on my heel and started walking. “I’m going home.”Yoongi’s low chuckle followed me. “See you tomorrow, lovesick fool.”

----------------------------------------

I had just begun to tune out the café’s noise when a familiar, low chuckle sent a shiver down my spine. Slowly, I looked up—and there he was. Min Yoongi, leaning casually against my table, eyes locked on me with that infuriating mix of amusement and challenge.

“Hey there, stranger,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I haven’t seen you all day. It’s almost like you’re avoiding me on purpose.”

“Oh no, you caught me.” I taunted, keeping my expression carefully neutral.

“Careful. You keep that up and I might just have to give everyone a public demonstration of what you’re so desperate to keep secret.”

Heat crept up my face as a flurry of thoughts collided in my head. I glanced around, searching for a quick escape route, but his presence loomed over me like a heavy fog, leaving nowhere to run. Forcing a tight smile, I feigned nonchalance. “I don’t have anything to hide,” I retorted, though the words felt sharp on my tongue.

He leaned down closer, his smirk widening. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you’re trying very hard to hide something.” 

By now he had leaned in so close that I could smell the lingering scent of mint on his breath—And for a brief second I pondered whether it was peppermint or spearmint.

 “If you don’t stop dodging me, I’ll kiss you again—right here, right now—so everyone knows exactly what happened last night.”

My eyes widened, heart pounding fiercely in my ears. “Don’t fuck with me, Min,” I managed, though the tremor in my voice betrayed my inner turmoil.

“Or what?” he teased softly, enjoying every moment of our standoff. “I’m giving you a choice. We can keep playing this game of cat and mouse, or we can face it. Just the two of us.” He smirked, eyes dropping to my lips. “In private.”

I met his gaze, searching for the sincerity behind his teasing threat. “I’m not ready to talk about this,” I whispered, a mix of anger and fear in my voice.

Before I could retort, he straightened up and leaned back, arms folded, as if satisfied with his threat. “You’re welcome to spend the day avoiding me. But know that I’m not going anywhere.” With that, he turned and walked out, leaving a wake of whispered laughter from a couple of onlookers.

I sank lower into my chair, heart in a vise. His threat wasn’t just a threat—it was an invitation, a challenge I wasn’t ready to accept, yet one I couldn’t quite dismiss either. The buzz of the café faded into background noise as I wrestled with a truth I wasn’t ready to confront: no matter how hard I tried to run, Yoongi had a way of drawing me back in.

-

For the rest of the day, I strategically navigated the bustling campus. I took longer routes to my classes and ducked into buildings the moment I spotted his familiar black hoodie in the distance, dodging every opportunity to run into Yoongi again. Amber, Krystal, and Luna exchanged knowing looks, their eyebrows raised as they teased me about my newfound stealth skills. 

“Girl, what the hell is wrong with you? You’re acting like you’ve seen a ghost!” Amber laughed as we lounged in the student union, snacks strewn across the table.

“There is nothing wrong with me,” I shot back, but the defensive tone in my voice gave me away.

Krystal raised an eyebrow. “I beg to differ. Normal people don’t duck under tables every time the door opens.”

“Very true.” Luna laughed. “C’mon, Y/N, you can’t hide forever!”

“Who are you hiding from anyway? And why?” Amber asked.

“I’m not hiding,” I insisted, though the truth was as clear as the sun overhead. “I’m just… taking a break from drama.”

“Mmm, drama. I see.” “Is that what we’re calling it now?” Krystal and Luna mocked simultaneously.

Then Amber chimed in, “Does that drama include you and Yoongi sitting in a tree—” Krystal and Luna joined in singing. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“Oh my god. You guys are embarrassing!” I whined, slapping a hand over Amber’s mouth and throwing snacks at the other two. I hoped they were too distracted to notice how heated my face had become.

In reality, my heart raced every time I imagined running into him. I threw myself into studying and writing music, trying to drown out thoughts of his teasing smile and the way his breath had felt against my lips. But there he was in every song I wrote, every chord I played, even in little doodles of his stupid face in the corner of my notebook.

By the evening, I was on the verge of losing my mind when the girls suggested we go out for dinner and then karaoke at a nearby bar. While we were out, Krystal grabbed the mic, belting out a cheesy ballad, and the room filled with laughter and camaraderie. I tried to join in the fun, but my mind wandered to the one person I was desperately trying to forget. I shot a glance toward the door, half-expecting to see Yoongi stroll in with that annoyingly charming smirk.

“Y/N! Your turn!” Luna shouted, pulling me back into the moment. With a resigned sigh, I grabbed the mic and attempted to not channel my feelings into the song "Bubble Gum" by NewJeans. The chorus echoed in my ears, and I imagined Yoongi’s face watching me, his gaze unwavering and intense. To play off my reaction, I kicked up the theatrics in a horrible rendition of the song. Amber, Krystal, and Luna dissolved into a mess of laughter, and I successfully ended my performance, racing heart and burning cheeks undetected.

When I thought I was safe from any confrontation, I excused myself to step outside for some fresh air. The crisp night air hit my face, grounding me for a moment, until I heard the sound of someone dramatically clearing their throat.

“Y/N.” The familiar voice sent a jolt through me. I turned slowly, finding him sauntering up the sidewalk, arms crossed and a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again today,” he said, his tone light but with an undercurrent of seriousness.

“I had a busy schedule,” I shot back with a shrug, but my bravado faltered under his piercing gaze.

“Busy dodging me?” he countered, closing the distance I had carefully maintained.

I took a step, ready to retreat back into the bar, but he blocked my path. “You have until Friday. Either we meet in private to talk about last night, or…” He paused, letting the threat linger in the air like the punchline to a joke I didn’t want to hear. “Your friends get front row seats to our kissing booth.”

I felt my pulse quicken, caught between embarrassment and intrigue. “What do you want from me, Yoongi?”

“I want you to stop pretending nothing happened.”

My heart raced, caught between panic and something far more thrilling. “You can’t be serious,” I stammered, trying to regain control of the situation.

Yoongi just smirked, pinning me in place with his stare. Finally he winked, and with that, he turned and walked away, leaving a trail of laughter and whispers from the bar’s patrons behind him.

I sank to the cool ground, my heart pounding against my ribs. His ultimatum felt like both a challenge and an invitation—one I wasn’t prepared to accept but couldn’t ignore. The thrill of his presence lingered in the air, reminding me that no matter how hard I tried to escape, Yoongi had a way of pulling me back into his orbit, and I was starting to wonder if that might not be such a bad thing after all.

—

The week crawled by, each day an agonizing reminder of the conversation I had with Yoongi outside the karaoke bar. My stomach churned with anticipation and dread, especially as Friday loomed closer. Despite my best efforts to shove him from my thoughts, he lingered there, like a catchy melody that refused to fade.

It was a busy Thursday afternoon when my friends and I decided to grab lunch at our favorite diner. The air was thick with the scent of sizzling grease, toasted bread, and fresh coffee. Amber’s latest misadventure had us laughing, our voices merging with the lively buzz of the diner. Just as I began to relax, Yoongi and his crew walked in and sat a few tables ahead of us. Pretending not to notice them walking by, I pulled out my phone, furiously flipping between apps.

“Y/N,” Next to my ear, Yoongi’s voice broke through the chatter, low and teasing, and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. He draped one hand casually over the back of my chair, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Not now,” I muttered under my breath, hoping—praying—he’d keep his voice down.

Yoongi, of course, did not take the hint. He slid into the empty seat next to me like he belonged there. “Just checking in,” he said, the amusement in his tone unmistakable. “Tomorrow’s Friday, in case you forgot.”

My entire body tensed. I stole a glance at Amber, Krystal, and Luna, but they were too wrapped up in their conversation to notice the impending disaster unfolding next to me.

“Yoongi,” I hissed, eyes darting around the table. “Shut up and fuck off.”

He smirked. “Oh? So you do remember?”

I clenched my jaw. “I said, shut up.”

Krystal perked up then, glancing between us. “Oh Yoongi. What’re you doing here? Why are you two whispering?”

“No reason,” I blurted, forcing a laugh. “He just—uh—he’s being annoying.”

Amber snorted. “When isn’t he?”

Yoongi, completely unfazed, leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just for me. “Eight o’clock. Don’t make me come find you.”

I turned sharply, ready to fire back, but he was already standing, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He gave me one last knowing glance before strolling off like he hadn’t just turned my entire world upside down in a matter of seconds.

“Okay, seriously, what was that?” Luna asked, eyes narrowing. “You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”

“I—what?” I scoffed, shaking my head way too fast. “No. I’m fine. Totally fine.”

Amber side-eyed me. “Mmmhmm. Sure.”

—

**8pm That Friday**

I stood outside the music studio, hesitating as my heart raced in my chest. The thought of facing Yoongi sent a wave of dread washing over me. He was definitely going to bring up that night, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to confront it. I felt the urge to bolt, to escape down the hallway and pretend this moment never existed.

Just as I turned to leave, the door swung open, and there he was—Yoongi, leaning against the frame with an eyebrow raised and that infuriating smirk on his face. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

I froze, caught in the act, and my mind scrambled for a response.

I turned slowly, “Away from you.”

“Interesting,” he mused. “Then why do you keep ending up exactly where I am?”

I scowled. “That’s not my fault.”

“Mm,” he hummed. “Debatable.”

I let out a slow breath, trying to steady myself. “What do you want, Min?”

He tilted his head. “You already know.”

I did. And I hated it. I hated how smug he looked. I hated that he was enjoying this so much. I hated that my heart was pounding just from standing too close to him.

I cleared my throat. “Well, I’m not interested in playing games.”

“Really?” Yoongi smirked. “That’s funny. Because you’ve been playing hard to get all week.”

I flushed. “I have not—”

“You have.” He stepped closer, voice dipping. “And I don’t mind, you know. I like a challenge.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “What—”

“Anyway.” He grinned like he hadn’t just made my heart drop into my stomach. “Normally I wouldn’t mind that You’re avoiding me, but I did warn you what would happen if you kept it up.”

I scoffed. “As if you’d really go through with it.”

Yoongi raised a brow. “Wouldn’t I?”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

He took another step forward. “Try me.”

I gulped.

“We can talk this out tonight like adults,” Yoongi leaned in just slightly, gaze flickering down to my lips before settling back on my eyes. “Or I let our lips do the talking during our next project meeting.”

I panicked. “No. Absolutely not. You wouldn’t—”

He smirked. “I will. And if you’re really unlucky, Amber and Krystal will be there too.”

I went completely still. They would never let me live it down.

“…You’re evil.”

Yoongi chuckled. “And you’re predictable.”

I crossed my arms. “Fine. I’m here so let’s talk.”

His smirk widened. “Glady.”

He stepped aside, arm out to usher me into the room. And that’s how I ended up trapped in a deal with Min Yoongi that involved a lot more private time than I was ready for.

------------------------------------

Luna and Krystal had found a new group of interns from another university, and I joined their conversation, laughing too easily, drinking a little too quickly. Amber gave me a look but didn’t call me out on it.

I was fine. Or at least, I was pretending to be until my skin prickled with awareness of him again. I really hated how in tune my body was to his mere presence. I caught him out of the corner of my eye—leaning against the bar, hands tucked into his pockets, his dark gaze glued to me yet again. He was amidst his group of friends but he wasn’t talking to anyone. Just watching me.

It set me on edge because Yoongi wasn’t supposed to look at me like that. Like he was figuring me out. Like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight me or—

I stopped that thought dead in its tracks.

I wasn’t going to let him get to me. So, naturally, I did something reckless. I smiled—too wide, too artificial—before reaching for the nearest guy in our group, a classmate I barely knew, and tugging him toward the dance floor. If Yoongi wanted to stare, then fine. I’d give him a show to enjoy.

I let the music swallow me, let the guy’s hands settle at my waist, and tried to lose myself in the moment. But I couldn’t. I could feel Yoongi’s eyes piercing through me. Even through the crowd, even through the haze of champagne and flashing lights, I felt it.

And then, suddenly, he was there.

I didn’t see him move—I only realized it when my partner suddenly stiffened, his grip on my hips loosening. Yoongi stepped in close. Too close.

“Mind if I cut in?” His voice was smooth, casual, but there was an edge beneath it.

The guy hesitated, eyes flickering between us. “Uh…”

Yoongi didn’t wait for an answer. He reached for me, fingers brushing against my wrist—just for a second, just long enough for me to feel the heat of his touch—before I yanked my hand away.

I glared at him. “What the hell are you doing?”

Yoongi just tilted his head, completely unfazed. “What are you doing?”

I scoffed. “Having fun?”

He raised a brow. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Why do you care?”

Yoongi didn’t answer immediately. His gaze dipped slightly, taking me in for just a fraction of a second—enough for my stomach to flip.

I hated him.

I hated that he was looking at me like this. Like I was a problem he needed to solve. Like I was something he wanted to unravel, piece by piece.

“I don’t,” he finally murmured. “Just seems like you’re trying too hard.”

That infuriated me.

I stepped closer, my chest nearly brushing his. I could feel his breath quicken ever so slightly, but I ignored it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His smirk deepened, but there was something else in his eyes now—something more intense, more intoxicating. “Sure.” His voice was soft, almost amused. “Keep telling yourself that.”

And then he was gone. Like he hadn’t just unraveled something inside me. Like he hadn’t just made my heart race for all the wrong reasons. I stood there, breath unsteady, fists clenched at my sides.

I hated him. I hated that he could do this to me. And worst of all—I hated that a part of me didn’t want him to stop.

—

I needed air. Or maybe I needed to punch something. Preferably him.

Yoongi had left me standing in the middle of the dance floor like I was some kind of joke. He knew exactly how much he was getting under my skin and enjoyed every second of it. I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the curious glances from my classmates and the confused look from the guy I’d abandoned.

Luna spotted me as I stormed past and raised an eyebrow. “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing,” I muttered.

Amber scoffed. “That didn’t look like nothing. That looked like Yoongi flirting with you again.”

I bit back the urge to snap at them. Because they weren’t wrong. But admitting that would mean acknowledging just how much he was in my head.

Krystal sighed. “You two are exhausting.”

“Tell him that,” I grumbled, snatching a glass of champagne off a passing tray and downing it in one go.

Luna snorted. “Right. Because he’s the one dragging random guys onto the dance floor like he’s filming a bad B-rate romcom.”

I scowled. “Whose side are you on?”

She grinned. “The side of entertainment.”

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “I need a break.”

Amber nudged me toward the balcony doors. “Go breathe before you combust.”

I didn’t argue.

The cool air hit me the second I stepped outside, a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the ballroom. The music was muffled here, the city stretching out beneath the terrace like a glittering sea of lights. I leaned against the railing, inhaling deeply. I just needed to calm down. I needed to stop letting Yoongi get to me.

But my body betrayed me, still tense from the way he had looked at me. My mind swam with frustrating thoughts of him—thoughts I kept trying to push down.

I didn’t know how long I stood there, lost in my own spiraling thoughts, but eventually, the night’s chill seeped into my skin, and I found it easier to breathe. I took a few more deep breaths to steady myself, then turned and went back to the gala.

I spotted my friends near the bar, laughing over something Krystal had said, and made a beeline for them. I grabbed a glass of water and desperately downed it, hoping to sober up. Maybe it was all the alcohol in my system that kept drawing my thoughts back to him.

Luna raised an eyebrow as I finished my drink. “That bad?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I huffed.

Amber smirked. “Is it about Yoongi?”

I shot her a glare.

Krystal sighed dramatically. “You guys should just kiss already.”

I choked. “What?!”

She shrugged. “I mean, the whole will-they-won’t-they thing is getting exhausting. Just get it over with.”

Luna grinned. “Or fight. Either way, it’d be more entertaining than whatever this is.”

I groaned, pressing my fingers to my temples. “You guys are unhinged.”

Amber just clinked her glass against mine. “And yet, we’re not the ones spiraling over Min Yoongi.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could, the lights in the ballroom dimmed slightly, signaling the next part of the event.

The awards presentation.

A murmur spread through the room as the hosts stepped onto the stage. This was the highlight of the night—where the top interns would be recognized. I forced myself to focus. This was what mattered, what I had been working so hard for. I refused to let Yoongi distract me from it.

But of course, fate had other plans.

“And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, for the highlight of the night we will present the Outstanding Potential Award—an honor reserved for the intern who has demonstrated exceptional talent, dedication, and leadership.”

I straightened, heart pounding. This was it. The award I had set my sights on from the beginning. The one that would cement everything I had worked for, every late night, every extra effort.

“And this year’s recipient is…” The announcer fumbled with the small golden envelope, pulling out the card inside. Their eyes widened, surprise flickering across their face before they cleared their throat. “Oh—actually, it’s split between two candidates!”

A wave of surprise washed through the crowd. My stomach dropped, and my brow furrowed.

“Congratulations to…” 

No, no no. Please no. I chanted silently, dread coiling in my chest. 

“Y/N and Min Yoongi!”

Applause erupted around me, but the rush of blood in my ears drowned most of it out. My fingers clenched around the fabric of my dress. No. No way. I blinked, half-expecting to have misheard, but the host was already gesturing toward the stage, a polite smile on her face.

My body felt frozen in place. I had pushed myself harder than anyone—I deserved this. Not to share it, and especially not with him. But of course it was him. Of course we were being recognized together.

I barely registered walking up the steps, barely processed the weight of the plaque in my hands. I forced a polite smile as a photographer snapped pictures. I knew he was looking at me—could feel his eyes burning into the side of my face but I refused to give him the satisfaction. Yoongi let out a soft chuckle. He leaned in slightly, voice low enough for only me to hear.

“Well, well. Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

I clenched my jaw. “Don’t remind me.”

He hummed, and for a second, I thought he was going to let it go. And he did—at least until we came down from the stage, away from all the lights and attention. Now, We were standing off to the side, shoulder to…chest, in silence. I silently cursed whoever decided it would be a good idea to make him so damn tall.

Out of nowhere, his next words sent a shiver down my spine.

“…What did he mean?”

I stiffened. “What?”

Yoongi’s gaze was unreadable. “Jae. What he said earlier. About us.”

My pulse spiked. I refused to let my expression falter. “I don’t know. He was just being weird.”

Yoongi didn’t look convinced. “That wasn’t just weird. That was deliberate.”

I swallowed. “It doesn’t matter.”

Yoongi studied me for a long moment. Then, quietly—“…You won’t tell me, will you?”

I exhaled sharply, gripping the plaque tighter. “It’s none of your business.”

His expression froze, then darkened. And for the first time that night—he looked pissed. It was only for a second before he schooled his features back into the casual, albeit detached look that I was used to. Yoongi inhaled and took a step back, nodding once. “Got it.”

—

The ceremony wrapped up soon after, but the weight of the night didn’t ease. If anything, it felt like the tension had only sharpened, coiling tighter around my ribs. The afterparty portion of the event had officially started, which meant more schmoozing, more networking, and more champagne being poured. My friends had disappeared into the crowd, likely getting into more trouble, but I stayed put, swirling the remnants of my drink and trying to ignore Min Yoongi standing beside me.

It was annoying. Not because I didn’t want him there, but because I didn’t know why I wanted him there.

"Don’t you have people to charm?" I muttered, taking a sip of champagne.

Yoongi exhaled a quiet laugh. "I could say the same to you."

I scoffed, but before I could respond, a voice cut through the chatter.

"Yoongi, Y/N."

Jae.

Of course.

I turned slowly, already bracing for whatever bullshit was about to come out of his mouth. Jae was smirking, holding a fresh drink, looking perfectly at ease in his tailored suit.

"That was a cute little moment on stage," he said casually, swirling his glass. "Both of you, side by side. Almost poetic."

I tensed, but Yoongi didn’t react. He just lifted a brow. "Are you always this sentimental?"

Jae chuckled, tilting his head. "Just observant." His gaze switched to me. "You always have had a way of attracting the wrong kind of attention."

My jaw clenched. "And you always had a way of running your mouth without actually saying anything."

Yoongi made a quiet sound beside me, almost like a chuckle. Jae’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, he looked entertained.

"Relax," he said smoothly. "I’m just making conversation. Catching up."

"No need," I said, my voice flatter than I intended.

Jae hummed like he expected that response. "Fair enough. Just funny, isn’t it? You and Yoongi—competing, winning, standing up there together like you’re two halves of the same coin."

My chest tightened uncomfortably but before I could snap back—before I could even process the way his words made me feel—Jae leaned down to my ear, voice lowering so I could just barely hear him over the music.

"Let’s just hope you’re a little smarter this time around, yeah?"

And then, with a casual sip of his drink, he walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

I stood frozen, my grip tightening around my glass. Yoongi hesitated beside me and for the first time that night, his voice wasn’t teasing.

"Want to tell me what that was about now?"

I exhaled slowly, willing my pulse to steady. "No."

Yoongi didn’t press. But he didn’t walk away, either. And that—that—was somehow worse.

---

I couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness that clung to me after the awards ceremony. The music and lights of the after party faded into a dull echo, leaving behind only the sting of unsaid words and an unresolved wound between Yoongi and me. That night, the gala had become a pressure cooker of suppressed emotions—and now, outside the gleaming confines of the ballroom, the tension was too thick to ignore.

I found myself wandering into a quiet corridor behind the event hall, away from the prying eyes and hollow chatter. The corridor was dim, lit only by recessed lights that cast long shadows along the polished floor. I leaned against a wall, trying to steady my racing heart and sort through the tangled mess of anger, hurt, and something else I refused to name.

Steady footsteps echoed behind me. I turned sharply. Yoongi stood there, his dark eyes smoldering with intensity. The air between us vibrated with every unspoken word.

“What do you want, Min?” I demanded, voice trembling between fury and desperation. “Why are you still following me?”

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, his mask of cool indifference slipped, revealing something raw and conflicted. “We should talk about whatever the hell that was back there.”

I scoffed, stepping forward so that we were nearly nose-to-nose. “I told you, it’s none of your business.”

His voice hardened, tension rippling through his frame. “I’m making it my business. We’re gonna keep coming back to each other—no matter how much you try to push me away, no matter how hard you pretend not to care. So talk to me.”

Before I could retort, a flare of anger surged within me, and I shoved him lightly. The push wasn’t forceful, barely enough to make him step back, but it was enough to ignite the volatile spark between us. Yoongi reacted instantly. Effortlessly. His hands caught my forearms and forced my body against his. For a heartbeat we stood like that— our faces inches apart.

“Don’t you dare think you can just—” I began, voice low and trembling with suppressed emotion.

He cut me off, his tone rising. “Maybe I can! Maybe you’re so terrified of what we are that you’d rather fight me than admit that you’re drawn to me.”

I clenched my fists, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes that I fought so hard to ignore. “I’m not drawn to you,” I spat. “I’m actually quite tired of this endless charade.”

His eyes flashed with anger and something else—hurt, maybe, or longing. “Then why, Y/N? Why do you keep coming back? Why do you make it impossible for me to stay away?”

The question, heavy and accusing, shattered the last remnants of my defiance. I tried to pull away, but Yoongi’s grip remained firm, steady and unyielding. I struggled against him, pushing, twisting, fighting against a force bigger than just his hold on me. When that failed, my frustration broke loose. I balled my fists and pounded against his chest, a weak, useless attempt to hurt him for not letting me go. But he didn’t flinch. Didn’t even waver. Instead, he moved. With each hit, he stepped forward, pushing me back, crowding me until my shoulders hit the wall. His grip slid to my wrists, pinning them above my head, trapping me beneath his gaze.

My eyes squeezed shut. “Stop it!” I cried, voice breaking. “You don’t understand—Stop pretending you know me!”

Yoongi’s eyes burned with conflicting emotions. “Maybe I do,” he hissed. “Maybe I’ve been trying to show you that I care—so damn much that I can’t let you push me away.”

And then, in the heat of our argument, when words had already become futile, his hand cupped my cheek. The next moment, before I could process it, his lips crashed into mine. The kiss was sudden and fierce—an explosion of pent-up frustration, longing, and defiance.

Time slowed. The world around us blurred into insignificance. In that charged, desperate moment, every angry word, every hurtful accusation, and every silent plea seemed to converge into a single, incendiary kiss that stole my breath away.

I felt his heart pound against my chest, his fingers tangling in my hair as he pulled me closer. For a long, endless second, the fight we had been having dissolved into raw, undeniable emotion.

My mind screamed for me to break away, but my body betrayed me—responding with a fire I’d been too stubborn to admit existed. The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t apologetic. It was a collision of all our unspoken truths, both defiant and tender.

And in that moment, I realized that nothing could ever go back to the way it was. The line between enemy and lover had been blurred irreparably.

When we finally broke apart, both of us were trembling—angry tears glistening in my eyes, his chest heaving with conflicted emotion. I managed to choke out, “What have we done?”

Yoongi’s gaze was pained, uncertain. “I don’t know,” he whispered. 

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The noise of the afterparty, the angry words we’d exchanged, and the chaos of our hearts all receded into a quiet, fragile silence between us.

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