Red Rose

Every weekday at precisely 8:10, the elevator from the executive floors opened, and he walked into the café looking as though he had personally been inconvenienced by the existence of everyone around him. He never smiled. Never greeted anyone. If his drink took longer than three minutes, no matter how busy it was, he’d glance at his watch with exaggerated annoyance.

His employees upstairs practically worshipped him. You couldn’t understand why. Maybe he was a genius when it came to software and investments, but none of that excused treating people like they existed solely to make his life easier.

“Medium americano.”, he stated without looking away from his phone. You didn’t even have to look up to know it was him. “You know.”, you said as you reached for a cup, “most people start with ‘good morning.’”

“It would still be morning whether I said it or not.”, he responded, “And you’d still have to make the coffee.” You let out a huff of annoyance and stepped away to finish the drink. You could feel his eyes on you while the espresso machine hissed beside you. “Y/N you seem particularly agitated today.”, he said. You slid his cup across the counter a little harder than necessary, “You seem particularly arrogant today.”

“You’re confusing confidence with arrogance.”, he corrected you. He picked up his drink, thanked no one, and disappeared back toward the elevators. You waited until the doors closed before sighing loudly, “I swear he gets ruder every single day.”

By the following Monday, you had mostly forgotten about him. The café was unusually quiet when you clocked in. Your manager Jin stood behind the register with an expression that immediately made you suspicious. Whenever Jin smiled like that someone’s day was about to get significantly worse. “What?”, you asked. His smile grew, “We’ve got a new employee.” You blinked, “I didn’t know we were hiring?” Jin shrugged his shoulders, “It’s a…temporary thing.”

You narrowed your eyes and you set your bag beneath the counter and tied your apron around your waist. You already knew you were going to be training them. You’d been there the longest. Every new hire eventually became your responsibility even though you insisted you had neither the patience nor the personality for it.

Jin always ignored that argument, “They’ll be here any minute.” You sighed, “Please tell me they have at least some café experience.” Jin chuckled, “Not exactly.” Before you could ask what that meant, the elevator doors opened. Your heart nearly stopped. Min Yoongi stepped out. Except something was different.

There was no expensive suit jacket draped over his arm. No tablet. No frantic assistant following behind him. Instead, he wore dark jeans, a simple black T-shirt beneath an apron Jin had clearly forced him into, and an expression that suggested he’d rather be anywhere else on Earth.

You stared. He stared back. Neither of you spoke. Finally, you looked at Jin, “Is this a joke?” Jimin snorted into a laugh. Jin shook his head, “The board of directors and his grandfather have decided that Mr. Min needs to spend six weeks working every position in the company he oversees. And since he technically owns this cafe…” Your eyes slowly drifted back toward Yoongi. Silence settled between you. He looked just as unhappy as you felt.

You led Yoongi behind the counter before the morning rush had a chance to begin. The café was quiet enough that you could explain things without having customers waiting impatiently in line and for that you were grateful. Training anyone took patience. Training Min Yoongi was going to take a miracle.

He stood beside you with his arms folded, studying the touchscreen register as though he were evaluating a prototype his company had developed. His expression barely changed, but you recognized that look. You’d seen it whenever he came downstairs for coffee. Everything was beneath him until proven otherwise. “This is the POS system.”, you explained, tapping a few buttons to bring up the menu, “Here are the specialty coffees, standard coffees, syrup options are over here and bakery is on this side. You’ll spend your first few shifts learning this before we even think about letting you touch the coffee machine.”

His eyes scanned the screen for all of five seconds, “That’s all?” You looked over at him, “That’s all?” He rolled his eyes, “It’s software.” You waited. He didn’t elaborate. Finally he scoffed, as though the answer should have been obvious, “I own a multi-million-dollar tech company. I think I can figure out a coffee shop POS system.”

There it was. That familiar confidence that always sounded just a little too much like arrogance. You couldn’t help but smile and for the first time, he looked slightly suspicious. Before he could ask what you meant, the bell over the front door chimed. Your head turned automatically. Then you saw who had walked in. A laugh nearly escaped you.

Every café had that one customer that tested everyone’s patience. The one whose drink ticket printed long enough to wrap around the cup twice. The one who ordered so often that the regular baristas knew the recipe would be difficult, but nobody else knew what to expect. Yours was Ms.Kim. She walked through the door in oversized sunglasses and designer heels, phone pressed to one ear while she waved absently toward the counter. She visited nearly every weekday, always at the same time, always with a drink that somehow became more complicated than the last.

You quietly stepped away from the register, “Your first customer is here.” Ms.Kim reached the counter and smiled pleasantly at Yoongi. “Oh.”, she said, “You’re new…and so handsome.” Even from a safe distance you could see the blush creep up his neck. Yoongi offered the practiced smile of a businessman who had spent years negotiating contracts and charming investors, “Good morning. What can I get started for you?”

“I’ll have a venti half-caf oat milk latte.”, she began. His fingers hovered confidently over the touchscreen. Then she continued, “…with three shots, extra hot, but not scalding. Two pumps of vanilla, one pump of sugar-free vanilla, three pumps of caramel, half a pump of hazelnut but be careful because last time they put 3/4 of a pump, cinnamon steamed into the milk, light foam, caramel drizzle around the cup and on top, whipped cream only around the edges, and two packets of raw sugar.”

His fingers stopped moving. The confidence disappeared so quickly you almost laughed. He stared at the register. Then at Ms. Kim. Then back at the register again. His expression remained impressively neutral, but after two years of arguing with him, you’d become surprisingly good at reading the tiny changes in his face.

The slight narrowing of his eyes.

The nearly invisible tightening of his jaw.

The fraction of a second where he simply…froze.

He had absolutely no idea where any of those buttons were. You bit the inside of your cheek. He’d walked into this convinced running a café would be easy because it involved a computer screen. Now that computer screen looked like it was in a completely different language.

You didn’t rescue him. Instead, you watched him try. His hand drifted uncertainly across the display as he searched for syrup options. A soft warning beep sounded. Wrong button. He frowned and tried again. Another beep. This time he’d accidentally selected iced instead of hot. He corrected it, only to lose the extra espresso shots he’d already entered. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to solve the problem himself.

The longer it took the less confident he looked. His shoulders, which had been perfectly straight moments ago, began to tense. His brows pulled together in concentration and every now and then he glanced at the screen with the same expression people wore while assembling furniture without reading the instructions.

It was strangely…endearing. You hated using that word to describe him. He wasn’t endearing. He was simply discovering that the job he’d dismissed in less than a minute required far more attention than he’d expected. Eventually, after nearly a full minute of determined silence, he let out a quiet breath. Without looking at you, he asked, “How do you find the syrups?” You blinked. That might have been the closest thing to asking for help you’d ever heard from him.

You stepped beside him, pointing toward one of the submenu tabs, “They’re hidden under modifiers. Most new people miss it.” His eyes followed your finger. Together, you worked through the rest of the order, adding each customization one by one. When the receipt finally printed, it dangled almost to the countertop. Yoongi stared at the impossibly long sticker before looking toward the espresso station where Jimin had already begun making the drink.“That’s…one coffee?”, he asked and you nodded. He watched Jimin pump syrup after syrup into the cup with the practiced speed that only came from repetition. For the first time since putting on that apron, Yoongi wasn’t looking at the café as though it were beneath him. He was watching it with genuine curiosity.

You caught the thoughtful expression before he noticed you looking and you quickly busied yourself wiping down the counter. Maybe six weeks wouldn’t be enough to change someone. But after only twenty minutes behind the register, Yoongi had already learned his first lesson. Nothing about this job was as simple as it looked.

Quickly you came to one very specific conclusion. Min Yoongi was an excellent student but he was also unbelievably irritating. He picked things up far faster than any trainee you’d ever worked with. After watching you ring in drinks a handful of times, he’d memorized the entire register. By Wednesday he was taking most orders without your help. By Thursday he had learned enough about the machines to make basic drinks under your supervision.

You should have been impressed. Instead, it only gave him more opportunities to argue with you. He questioned everything.

Why did customers insist on ordering drinks that tasted like melted candy?

Why did everyone refuse to read the menu before reaching the register?

Why did the drive for “customer satisfaction” mean apologizing when someone else’s mistake held up the line?

He challenged nearly every answer you gave him and you challenged nearly every assumption he made. Somewhere between correcting his milk steaming technique and explaining why baristas wrote encouraging notes on regulars’ cups, your conversations had settled into a constant rhythm of bickering.

Friday however, was different. You’d known from the moment your alarm went off that the day wasn’t going to be kind. Your head felt heavy. Your body ached with the kind of exhaustion sleep couldn’t fix and the dull headache sitting behind your eyes hadn’t gone away no matter how many painkillers you took or how much coffee you’d sipped before work.

To make matters worse, you’d spent nearly three hours at the emergency veterinarian the night before after your cat, Sushi, had suddenly started limping. Thankfully, the little troublemaker was going to be fine, but the bill had swallowed nearly everything you’d managed to put into your savings over the past several months. Every time you thought about the number printed at the bottom of that receipt, your stomach twisted. You’d pay it again in a heartbeat but it still hurt.

By the time you tied your apron that morning, you already felt wrung out. Even Jimin noticed. “You okay?”, he asked quietly while restocking the napkin dispenser. You forced a smile, “Yeah just tired.” He looked like he wanted to ask more, but the morning rush had already begun. For once, even Yoongi didn’t have much to criticize. He worked beside you in relative silence until the line finally thinned enough for everyone to catch their breath. He glanced toward the stack of cups you’d accidentally knocked over for the second time that morning.

“You’re unusually clumsy today Y/N.”, he said without much actual bite to it. Normally, you would’ve had an answer ready. Something sarcastic. Something that would make him roll his eyes. Instead, you simply bent down, gathered the cups, and kept working, “Sorry.” The word slipped out automatically. Yoongi frowned. You never apologized to him. He watched you for another moment before returning to the register, though you could feel his eyes lingering every so often throughout the next several minutes. He didn’t say anything else.

The café grew busy again just before lunch. Most customers were patient despite the line stretching toward the door. Drinks were flying out as quickly as Yoongi and Jimin could make them and for a little while you managed to lose yourself in the familiar rhythm of taking orders.

Then a man in an expensive business suit stepped up to your register. You greeted him with the same polite smile you gave everyone, “What can I get started for you today?” He rattled off his order without looking up from his phone. You entered it carefully before repeating it back to make sure you’d heard correctly. His head snapped up, “That’s not what I said.” You took a breath, “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought…” But he cut you off, “I said whole milk.” As you typed away on the screen you corrected him, “You actually said oat milk, but I can absolutely change…” The man laughed at you, “I know what I said.” The customers waiting behind him shifted uncomfortably. You kept your voice calm, “No problem sir. I’ll fix it.” He sighed dramatically as if you’d just ruined his entire morning. “This is why nobody gets decent service anymore.”, he grumbled. You swallowed, “I’m sorry about the misunderstanding.”

“No wonder you’re working a shitty cafe job. You’ll never be anything more than a struggling minimum wage barista.”

The words landed harder than they should have. Maybe because you were already exhausted. Maybe because you were worrying about rent. Maybe because you’d spent half the night sitting on the floor beside Sushi’s bed, terrified something was seriously wrong. Whatever the reason, you suddenly felt your throat tighten. You blinked quickly, willing your eyes not to sting.

“I’m fixing it.”, you said softly, “They haven’t even made the drink yet so it’s not problem.” The man shook his head, “Unbelievable. If you were my employee you’d be fired already.” Something inside you cracked. You realized that if you stayed behind that register for one more second you were going to cry in front of a lobby full of people.

“I…excuse me.”, you said and you stepped away before anyone could stop you and hurried through the swinging door into the back room. The moment it closed behind you, you leaned against the wall and covered your face with your hands. The tears came in full force then. You hated crying at work. You hated that one rude customer had managed to undo every bit of composure you’d been clinging to all morning.

A few moments later the back door creaked open. You expected Jin to scold you for walking away mid order or Yoongi to say something to annoy you. Instead, Jimin poked his head inside. His eyes were wide, “Y/N…you okay?” You laughed weakly as you wiped beneath your eyes, “Yeah I will be.” He stepped fully into the room still looking mildly stunned, “You missed…something…interesting.” He scratched the back of his neck, “The guy who made you cry started complaining again after you left. And Yoongi…” Jimin let out a short, disbelieving laugh, “…Yoongi absolutely tore into him.” You looked up, “What?!” Jimin leaned against the shelves, replaying it in his head, “He walked right up to the register and asked the guy if humiliating someone who’d been nothing but polite and hard working made him feel important.” Your eyebrows lifted, “He actually said that?”Jimin nodded, “The customer tried pulling the whole ‘Do you know who I am?’ routine.” A smile tugged faintly at the corner of his mouth. You couldn’t help the tiny laugh that escaped you. Jimin continued, “Yoongi looked him dead in the eye and said, “I don’t particularly care who you are. I care how you treat my co-workers.’” Your smile softened. My co-worker.

Jimin added, “He told the man that if he couldn’t speak respectfully to the staff, he was welcome to buy his coffee somewhere else.” Your eyes widened, “He…kicked him out?” Jimin nodded, “He absolutely did. Then the guy demanded to speak to the owner.” Your curiosity got the better of you, “What did Yoongi do?” Jimin grinned, “Yoongi looked in right in the eye and said…you already are.’” Jimin smiled softly, “Everyone in line clapped while the guy did the walk of shame out the door. I don’t think that customer will be coming back.” The room fell quiet again.

You stared down at your hands, still trying to picture it. Min Yoongi, the same man who rarely smiled, who lived to correct everyone around him, who had spent the better part of a week arguing with you over the smallest things….had defended you without hesitation. For reasons you couldn’t quite explain, that unsettled you far more than another argument ever could.

The days slipped by almost without you noticing. Yoongi learned the names of customers before they introduced themselves. He remembered that Mrs. Park always wanted her blueberry muffin warmed for exactly fifteen seconds because twenty made it too soft. He knew Mr. Lee liked one ice cube dropped into his coffee so he could drink it immediately on his walk to work. He even started setting aside the last chocolate chip cookie every Thursday morning for the little boy who came in with his grandmother after preschool. He’d never admit he’d memorized any of it but you noticed.

You noticed a lot of things. Like how he silently restocked cups whenever he saw they were running low without having to be told. How he automatically grabbed another gallon of milk whenever Jimin reached for the last one. How he’d begun wiping down tables between customers without anyone asking. The work no longer seemed beneath him. It was simply work. Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped acting like a CEO pretending to be a barista. Now he was just another member of the team.

It caught you off guard how naturally he’d settled into it. Even Jin seemed impressed. “I wasn’t sure he’d last two days.”, he admitted one afternoon while counting the register. “I only gave him two hours.”, you replied. Across the café, Yoongi looked up from changing the trash, “I heard that.” Jimin sighed loudly from the sink, “You two argue like an old married couple.” The café fell silent. You froze with a towel still in your hand. Yoongi nearly dropped the tray he’d been carrying. Jimin looked between the two of you before slowly smiling, “…Interesting.”

“There is nothing interesting about that sentence.”, you said a little too quickly. “Not at all.”, Yoongi agreed at almost the exact same moment. Jimin’s grin only widened.

Thursday afternoon brought one of the slowest shifts you’d worked in weeks. Rain slammed harshly against the café windows while only a handful of customers occupied the tables. You were wiping down the pastry case when the front doors opened. A man around your age stepped inside, shaking rainwater from his jacket before walking toward the counter with an easy smile. He was handsome in an effortless sort of way, wearing a university sweatshirt and carrying a laptop bag over one shoulder.

When he reached the register, he smiled at you, “I’ll take a vanilla latte with oat milk.” You rang it in with your usual polite smile, “Anything to eat today?” He glanced toward the display before looking back at you, “No…but I was wondering something…I’ve been coming here for a couple weeks.” You nodded, recognizing him immediately. You knew his name was Hobi thanks to having to write his name on the cup. He usually came in during the afternoon lull probably once his classes were down for the day. He continued, “…I was hoping I could finally ask if you wanted to go out to dinner with me.” Before you could answer, you heard the unmistakable hiss of steam stop behind you.

“Umm ye…”, you started but were cut off by Yoongi, “You forgot to charge for oat milk.” The interruption came from directly beside you. Yoongi stood there pointing at the POS. You looked down and quickly fixed it before handing the total to the customer.

When you looked back up, Hobi smiled again, “So…dinner or maybe lunch?” Before you could answer this time, Yoongi slid the finished latte onto the counter, “Vanilla latte..with oat milk.” Then instead of walking away he stood next to you, arms crossed, with an unimpressed look on his face. Hobi looked between the two of you before taking his cup, “Thanks.” He hesitated for a moment as though debating whether to ask again. Then he simply smiled politely and walked toward the door. The bell chimed softly as he disappeared into the rain.

You stared after him for a second before turning toward Yoongi, “That was…unusually fast.” He picked up a towel and began wiping the counter with far more concentration than necessary and ignoring your statement. You narrowed your eyes, “You’re impossible.” He walked away before anything else could be said. Across the café, Jimin had witnessed the entire exchange. He waited until Yoongi disappeared into the stockroom before wandering over beside you.

A slow grin spread across his face. You frowned. Jimin leaned closer, “I don’t think he liked that guy very much. The interruptions almost seemed…intentional.” You looked toward the stockroom door before laughing. Jimin’s grin only grew. You shook your head, dismissing the idea entirely. Yoongi didn’t get jealous especially not with you. He barely tolerated most people on a good day. Still…As you glanced toward the back room, the thought of it…for some reason made you smile.

By the fourth week of Yoongi’s training, you’d settled into a routine that felt surprisingly normal. It was strange to think there had once been a time when the two of you couldn’t stand sharing the same space. Now, even on the busiest mornings, you rarely had to think about who was doing what. Orders flowed naturally. One of you took customers while the other worked to make the drinks and somewhere along the way you’d developed an unspoken rhythm that made the café run smoother than it ever had before.

Which was precisely why Thursday evening felt like a disaster before you’d even unlocked the front doors.

Min Technologies was hosting its annual product showcase upstairs which was a flashy event that drew investors, journalists, business partners, and enough executives to fill nearly every floor of the building. The lobby had been transformed with banners and digital displays, and catering staff hurried through the elevators carrying trays of food while security guards directed guests toward the conference center.

Normally, the café was closed by 6:00pm but on this day it always stayed open until at least 11:00 to accommodate all of the extra guests.

Tonight, however, everything that could go wrong already had. Jimin had called Jin that morning with a fever high enough that he had been admitted to the hospital. The other barista was visiting family out of state and the only other one had decided to quit the night before and had blocked everyone’s phone number. And of course Yoongi was busy tending to the event. Jin had spent half the afternoon calling anyone who had ever worked a shift behind the counter. No one was available. Which left only you.

Jin looked genuinely apologetic as he hung up his apron, “Y/N I can stay for another hour.” You shook your head, “You’ve already been here since four this morning. You have two kids waiting at home and tonight is your son’s big baseball game. You need to go.” He hesitated, “I hate this.” He looked toward the growing crowd gathering outside the elevators, “I’ll keep trying to find someone. If I can’t get anyone I’ll come back as soon as the game is over.” You smiled, even though neither of you believed anyone was suddenly going to become available.

For the first twenty minutes, things weren’t too bad. Busy but manageable. The line stretched toward the door, but you managed to stay ahead of it. Orders came in steadily enough that you could ring someone up while finishing drinks with your free hand.

Then the event upstairs ended its last big presentation. The elevators opened and suddenly it felt as though the entire building decided they wanted a late night coffee at exactly the same moment. People poured into the lobby in waves. Conversations echoed off the high ceilings. The line reached out the front doors within minutes. Mobile orders began printing so quickly that the receipt machine barely paused between tickets.

You stared at the growing pile. There wasn’t even time to panic. You simply moved. Take an order. Steam milk. Ring another customer. Blend a frappé. Heat a sandwich. Package a cinnamon bun. Call a name. Apologize for the wait. Take a deep breath. Start it all over again.

You barely looked up from the register. The café filled with overlapping voices until you could barely hear yourself think. A carton of oat milk ran empty. You sprinted to the refrigerator. Someone asked for the ingredient list for the ham and cheese croissant. Another customer wanted six drinks split across three separate receipts.The mobile order printer shrieked again indicating it was out of paper for the third time.

You glanced toward the steadily growing row of cups waiting to be made and felt your stomach sink. There was simply no way. No matter how fast you moved, you were falling further behind. A customer checked her watch with obvious irritation. Another sighed loudly enough for half the café to hear. You took a slow breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. One drink at a time. That was all you could do.

Then you heard measured footsteps crossing the lobby. They stopped on the opposite side of the counter. You glanced up, expecting another impatient customer. Instead you saw Yoongi. He was still dressed for the event upstairs. A perfectly tailored charcoal suit. White dress shirt. Dark tie. Rolex on his wrist. His conference badge still hung around his neck, and his hair had been styled far more carefully than usual. He looked completely out of place standing in the middle of your chaotic little café.

For a brief second, relief flickered through you. Then you remembered who you were looking at. Your shoulders sagged. You were already exhausted. You really weren’t in the mood for one of his sarcastic comments about your inability to keep up. He looked around the café without speaking. His eyes moved from the line stretching out the door to the mountain of unmade drink stickers to the overflowing sink and then to the like of spilled sugar all over the floor and…to you.

You knew exactly what he was seeing. Your hair had long since escaped its ponytail. There was a collection of syrup on your apron. Your cheeks were flushed, and you were fairly certain you had sweated through your shirt. You looked like a disaster. You braced yourself. “I know.”, you said before he could speak, “I’m behind.” He didn’t answer. Instead, he loosened his tie. You frowned. Then he slipped off his suit jacket and carefully folded it over the back of one of the office chairs. Your confusion deepened. Without a word, he walked over and reached for the hook beside the sink and pulled down one of the spare aprons.

For a second, you simply stared as he tied it around his waist with practiced movements. “Y/N you can’t do this alone.”, he said. He rolled up the sleeves of his expensive dress shirt until they rested just below his elbows, “What do you need first?” You blinked, “What?” He pointed, “The register or drinks?” For a moment, your brain completely refused to process what was happening. Before you could respond, he stepped past you and picked up the stack of waiting drink stickers. His eyes scanned them once, “Two caramel macchiatos, an iced chai, three peach strawberry ice teas…”

He reached for a pitcher as naturally as if he’d never left, “I’ll catch up on drinks.” You stood frozen for another heartbeat. Then he looked over his shoulder, “Well?…Orders aren’t going to ring up themselves.” You snapped back to reality. The two of you fell into motion almost instantly. You returned to the register while Yoongi threw drinks together like nothing. Within minutes, the pace of the café changed. Not because the crowd had gotten any smaller but because you weren’t facing it alone anymore.

Yoongi hadn’t come downstairs because he was required to. He’d come because he’d seen you struggling and without saying a single unnecessary word he’d simply decided you shouldn’t have to do it alone.

The last customer wandered out of the café a little after eleven. The lobby that had been deafening only an hour earlier had fallen strangely quiet. Event staff wheeled empty display stands toward the freight elevator while the cleaning crew began making their rounds through the building. Somewhere upstairs, the last of the executives were saying their goodbyes.

The café, however, looked as though a tornado had swept through it. Utensils filled the sink. Used towels were piled on one counter. The pastry case sat nearly empty, except for a lonely blueberry muffin and two oatmeal cookies no one had wanted. You let out a tired sigh. The rush was over. Now came the part nobody ever thought about until the end.

Cleaning.

You filled the sink with hot water before dropping another stack of dishes into the suds. Every muscle in your body protested. Your shoulders ached. Your feet throbbed. Even lifting the sanitizer bucket felt heavier than it should have. You mentally calculated how long it would take.Two hours at a minimum. Maybe three or even four.

You’d barely finished scrubbing the first dish when you heard Yoongi’s voice drift in from the front of the café, “Y/N.” You kept washing, “What?” There was a pause, “…Don’t ‘what’ me. Just come here.’”You shook your head, smiling to yourself despite your exhaustion. Another few seconds passed. You turned just in time to see him appear in the doorway to the back room, sleeves still rolled to his forearms, apron dusted with coco and espresso grounds.

He looked at the sink overflowing with dishes before meeting your eyes, “They’ll still be dirty in fifteen minutes. They’re not going anywhere.” You nodded, “Exactly. I need to get them done.”Instead of answering, he reached over, took the sponge out of your hand, and set it on the edge of the sink, “Just…come here. I promise it’s worth it.”

There was something different in his voice. Curiosity got the better of you. You followed him out to the dining area expecting him to point out something you’d forgotten to clean. Instead, you stopped short. A paper bag sat in the middle of one of the café tables. Beside it were two bottles of water and several plastic containers. Your stomach chose that exact moment to betray you with a loud growl.

Yoongi looked down at the containers with a smirk, “I ordered us some dinner.” He slid one of the containers toward you, “The sushi place down the street was still open.” You stared at it for a long moment. Silence settled between you. Finally he pulled out one of the chairs, “Sit.” It wasn’t really an order but more like an invitation disguised as one. Your body decided before your pride did. You sank into the chair with a relieved groan, “I was more tired than I realized.”

He sat across from you and opened one of the containers. For a few minutes, neither of you said much. The only sounds were plastic lids snapping open and the faint hum of refrigerators in the background. It felt odd. You’d never imagined yourself eating dinner with Min Yoongi after work. Especially not while both of you still wore coffee-soaked aprons.

He picked up a piece of salmon nigiri, “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got a little of everything.” You smiled faintly, “Sushi is a safe choice.” You reached for a California roll, “I actually have a cat named Sushi.” His chopsticks froze halfway to his mouth, “…Your cat is named Sushi.”

You laughed, “Mhm.” He stared at you then he laughed, “That’s adorable.” You laughed along with him, “Yeah I found him behind a sushi restaurant. He was so tiny.” His expression softened and you continued, “The owner of the restaurant had been feeding him scraps for a few days, but they couldn’t keep him. I was only supposed to foster him. Then he slept on my chest the first night.” Yoongi smiled, “I suppose that was the end of fostering.” You laughed and nodded, “Pretty much.”

You found yourself telling him everything.How Sushi insisted on drinking from the bathroom faucet instead of his water bowl. How he’d once stolen an entire slice of turkey off your sandwich. How he greeted you at the door every evening with a tiny squeaky meow because he’d never learned how to meow properly. Yoongi listened. He asked questions. He laughed at all the right moments. He even admitted he’d never owned a pet because he’d spent most of his adult life working but if he ever did get one he’d get a black cat and name him Sugar.

The conversation drifted naturally after that. Cats stories became childhood stories. Childhood stories became favorite foods. Favorite foods somehow turned into travel, music, and books. The hours slipped by unnoticed. At some point you’d stopped sitting across from one another. You weren’t even sure when it had happened. One moment you were reaching for another container. The next, the two of you were sitting side by side, shoulders almost touching.

The café lights had been dimmed. Outside, rain had begun falling softly against the windows. You turned toward him, still smiling from something he’d said. He was already looking at you. Neither of you spoke. The laughter faded into a comfortable silence.

His eyes searched yours for a long moment. Your heart began beating just a little faster. Slowly…Almost hesitantly…He leaned closer. You didn’t move away. You could feel your breath catch. He was close enough now that you noticed the faint scent of coffee still lingering on his shirt beneath the citrusy cologne he’d worn to the company event.

Your eyes drifted to his lips. Just a little closer…then the front door burst open.

“There you two are!”

You both jumped apart so quickly the chairs loudly scraped against the floor. Jin stepped inside carrying his car keys, stopping the instant he noticed the distance that had suddenly appeared between the two of you. His gaze moved from you to Yoongi to the half-finished containers of sushi. One eyebrow slowly lifted, “Am I interrupting something?”

Your face immediately grew warm.

“No!”

Yoongi answered at the exact same time.

“No.”

Jin’s lips twitched, “I see.” Neither of you looked at each other. Jin looked between you once more before hiding a knowing smile, “Well…I came to help close and clean up.” He glanced at the untouched stack of dishes still waiting in the sink, “I would’ve got here sooner but there was an incident at the baseball game and I just got home from the ER…Though it seems I’ve arrived just in time.”

You quickly stood, desperate for something to do besides think about how close Yoongi had been only seconds earlier. As you hurried toward the back room, you missed the brief glance Jin sent Yoongi. It wasn’t teasing. It was understanding. And judging by the way Yoongi quietly rubbed the back of his neck before reaching for the dish towel he knew exactly what had almost happened too.

The almost kiss lingered far longer than either of you ever acknowledged. Neither of you mentioned that night after the company event. Not the dinner. Not how close the two of you had been. Not the way Jin had walked in at the worst possible moment.

Life simply continued but something between you and Yoongi had shifted. You caught him looking at you more often than before though he always found something else to focus on the second you noticed. Every now and then your hands brushed while reaching for the same milk pitcher or stack of cups, and where those moments once would’ve been followed by a sarcastic remark, now they were met with an awkward silence before one of you quietly stepped away. You’d told yourself not to read into it. It had almost worked. Until you caught yourself wondering if he thought about that almost kiss as often as you did.

Unfortunately Yoongi’s six weeks were coming to an end. The realization hit you unexpectedly one Tuesday morning when Jin mentioned it in passing while checking the schedule, “Friday’s his last shift.” You looked up from dating pastry labels. Jin smiled to himself but didn’t comment.

Instead, he continued writing on the schedule while your stomach twisted with an emotion you weren’t ready to name. You’d spent weeks counting down until the day you wouldn’t have to deal with working with Min Yoongi anymore. Now…The idea of him leaving felt strangely disappointing.

The biggest surprise wasn’t how much he’d learned. It was how naturally he’d become part of the café. Customers asked for him by name now. The regulars teased him whenever he looked too serious. Ms. Kim still insisted he was “far too handsome to be hiding behind a coffee machine,” which never failed to make him blush just enough for you to notice.

He remembered everyone’s orders without thinking. He knew exactly when to refill the pastry case, when to start another pot of coffee, and when you needed someone to quietly step in and take over the register because the line had become too long. There was no hesitation anymore. The two of you moved around each other as though you’d worked side by side for years.

Thursday afternoon was unusually slow. Rain drummed softly against the windows, leaving the café almost empty except for a few students tucked into the corner booths with laptops. You were wiping down the counter while Yoongi disappeared into the storage room to restock syrup bottles.

The quiet lasted all of thirty seconds. Then came the sound of cabinets opening. A muttered sigh. Another cabinet. More rustling. Finally, his voice drifted into the café, “Why is the chocolate syrup always impossible to open?” You smiled to yourself because even though you got along much better you still liked to know he struggled a little from time to time.

A few more seconds passed. You could practically picture him wrestling with the lid. “You need help?”, you called. There was another grunt. Followed by complete silence. Then a loud pop echoed through the stockroom. It was immediately followed by another sound. One you didn’t hear very often. Yoongi groaning in frustration followed by a string of curse words. Curious, you rounded the corner.

The sight that greeted you stopped you in your tracks. Chocolate syrup was everywhere. It streaked across the front of his black T-shirt and soaked into the apron tied around his waist. Tiny speckles dotted his bangs and there was even a smear across his cheek. The bottle still sat in his hand, tilted at an awkward angle, as though it had exploded the moment the lid gave way. For a heartbeat, you simply stared.

Then the laughter came. It burst out of you so suddenly that you had to grab the doorframe to steady yourself. You tried to stop but every time you looked at him, another wave of laughter escaped.

When you finally managed to catch your breath, tears had gathered in the corners of your eyes. Your gaze drifted back to the streak of chocolate across his face. The laughter started all over again. For a long moment, Yoongi simply watched you. There wasn’t even the slightest hint of irritation on his face. Instead, the corners of his mouth slowly lifted into a smile. Not the small, reluctant smirk he wore whenever he won an argument. A genuine smile. One that reached his eyes. It was the expression of someone quietly plotting revenge. The realization hit you a second too late.

Your laughter faded, “…Don’t.” He didn’t answer. He just looked down at the open bottle still in his hand before looking back at you. Your eyes widened, “Yoongi...” He took a single step forward. Instinctively, you took one back, “Don’t even think about it.” The smile only grew. A tiny flick of his wrist sent a thin ribbon of chocolate syrup sailing through the air. It landed neatly across the front of your apron. You looked down at the brown streak. Then back at him. The café fell completely silent. Neither of you moved. Finally, you reached for the nearest can of whipped cream. Yoongi’s eyes immediately narrowed, “Oh no.” You smiled, “Oh yes.”

He laughed and took off running before you’d even managed to press the nozzle. By the time you chased him around the cafe both of you were laughing too hard to make any real attempt at revenge. You nearly caught him once before he ducked behind the counter. He retaliated with another tiny drizzle of chocolate that landed on your thigh. You answered with a cloud of whipped cream that splattered harmlessly against the floor.

The entire café echoed with laughter neither of you could seem to stop. That was exactly how Jimin found you. He walked through the front door carrying a case of coffee beans and stopped dead in the entrance. His gaze slowly traveled from the whipped cream can in your hand to the chocolate-covered apron Yoongi was still wearing to the syrup streaks now decorating the counter. Slowly he shook his head, “I don’t even want to know.” You looked at each other. Then, without warning, both of you dissolved into laughter all over again. Jimin sighed dramatically as he set the box on the counter and walked back outside.

You and Yoongi burst into laughter. For the first time since he’d walked into the café wearing that borrowed apron, neither of you could imagine what the place would feel like without the other standing behind the counter.

By Friday afternoon, the realization had finally settled over the café. It was Yoongi’s last shift. The thought lingered in the back of your mind from the moment you clocked in making the morning feel strangely bittersweet. Customers stopped by to wish him luck upstairs, though many admitted they were disappointed he wouldn’t be making their coffee anymore. Yoongi would simply roll his eyes each time but you caught the small smile he tried to hide. For someone who had spent his first week insisting he was above working in a coffee shop, he’d become surprisingly popular.

By closing time, Jin disappeared into the office before returning with a small chocolate cake balanced carefully in his hands. The words Congratulations, Yoongi! were written across the top in slightly crooked white icing. “It’s not much.”, Jin admitted, setting it on one of the café tables, “but six weeks is six weeks and longer than some have lasted.” Jimin immediately began applauding far more enthusiastically than the occasion probably warranted.Yoongi looked at the cake before letting out a quiet laugh.

For the next half hour, the four of you shared cake and stories from the past six weeks. Jin brought up the day Yoongi accidentally made three iced lattes instead of hot ones during the morning rush and then argued about why he couldn’t just microwave them instead of remaking them. Jimin reminded everyone about the caramel bottle Yoongi had somehow launched across the prep counter and into the middle of the lobby. You contributed the chocolate syrup incident. Yoongi insisted you’d exaggerated every detail.

For a little while, nobody thought about the fact that this was the last time the four of you would close the café together. Eventually, Jin glanced at the clock, “I should finish inventory and lock up.” Jimin stretched as he stood up, “I’ll help.” Within minutes the dining area had emptied, leaving only you and Yoongi finishing the last of the cleanup.

You gathered the remaining plates while he carried the leftover cake box toward the back. Neither of you noticed you’d walked toward the cooler from opposite directions until the heavy door swung open. You stepped inside at the exact moment he stepped out. The narrow space wasn’t built for two people. You instinctively moved to one side. So did he. You both laughed quietly before trying again. Again, you ended up blocking each other’s path.

“After you.”, he said. You smiled, “You first. Neither of you moved. The cooler suddenly felt much smaller than it had a moment ago. The hum of the refrigeration units filled the silence. You looked up. He was already looking at you. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Your heart began beating a little faster. “So…”, you said softly, “I guess this is it.” His smile faded just enough to reveal something more vulnerable beneath it, “I guess it is.”

The words settled between you. You hadn’t expected this to feel so final. Monday morning the café would open. Customers would line up. Life would continue. Only he would be back upstairs and not next to you. “I never thought I’d say this.”, you admitted with a small laugh, “but I’m actually going to miss arguing with you.” A quiet smile touched his lips, “I’ll still be here every morning for my usual coffee…I’m sure I can fit in a few jabs here and there.”

Your smile lingered. He took one slow step closer, “But…I don’t think I’ll come downstairs just for the coffee anymore.” Your breath caught. The space between you disappeared almost without either of you noticing. He hesitated, giving you every chance to step away. Instead you closed the remaining distance.

His lips met yours gently at first, almost questioning. When you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened naturally. Weeks of lingering glances, quiet smiles, shared laughter, and almost moments melted into that one kiss. Your hand found the front of his shirt almost instinctively. His hands rested lightly against your waist. Neither of you seemed eager to be the first to pull away. When you finally did, your foreheads remained close together. He smiled, “So…I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

He laughed softly before leaning in again. The second kiss was less hesitant. His hand slipped gently to the small of your back, drawing you a little closer as your fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt. For one dangerous moment, it became very easy to forget where you were. The cooler. The café. Jin and Jimin out front. Reality returned all at once. You reluctantly rested a hand against his chest, “Wait.” He immediately stopped and you continued, “We’re going to get caught.”

He glanced toward the cooler door before letting out a quiet laugh. You smiled, “And I like my job.” He gave you another quick kiss, “And I’d rather you keep it so I can see you every day.” He was quiet for a moment, studying you with that thoughtful expression you’d grown so fond of. Then a small smile appeared, “Let’s go to my office.” You pretended to consider it for all of two seconds, “Okay.”

A few minutes later and after some quick mumbled excuses to Jin and Jimin and a ride up to the 78th floor, the elevator doors opened onto the executive floor. You’d seen this level once before when you dropped off some coffee during a big conference meeting but that was it. Walking through it beside Yoongi felt completely different. The offices were quiet now, the day’s event long since over. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along the hallway, overlooking a city beginning to glow beneath the evening sky. He led you to the very end of the corridor.

Large solid cherry wood doors swung open into an office unlike anything you’d imagined. It was enormous. Warm wood lined the walls. Bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling. A grand piano sat near one corner. The wall behind his desk was nothing but floor to ceiling glass windows, revealing a breathtaking view of the city lights stretching toward the horizon. You turned slowly, taking it all in, “…This is incredible.” Yoongi looked around the room, “Yeah…well when you pretty much live in your office you try to make it as comfy as possible.”

A faint smile crossed his face. You wandered toward the windows, resting a hand lightly against the glass as thousands of lights shimmered below, “It’s beautiful.”

You turned back toward him. He was still standing by the door, watching you instead of the skyline. Without breaking eye contact, he reached behind him. The soft click of the lock echoed through the quiet office.

Your heartbeat skipped. The room suddenly felt a little smaller, despite being the largest office you’d ever seen. “Y/N," he murmured, his voice incredibly low, thick with a dangerous combination of restraint and lingering desire, “Do I have your permission to do exactly as I please right now?"

"Yes.”, you whispered without a second thought, the word a breathless vow in the quiet room. A soft, approving hum vibrated from his chest. He walked over and reached towards his desk where a spare silk tie lay draped carelessly over the corner of his laptop. He picked it up, letting the expensive fabric slide through his fingers as he stepped into your space.

"Take your shirt off and turn around.”, he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly command. You obeyed, your heart hammering against your ribs as you dropped your shirt and bra onto the floor beside you. A moment later, he gathered your wrists behind your back. The cool, smooth silk of the tie wrapped firmly around your wrists, binding them together. He pulled the knot snug not tight enough to hurt, but secure enough to make it instantly clear that your hands were no longer yours to use. The sudden restriction sent a shiver straight down your spine. Before you could fully process the feeling of being bound, Yoongi reached onto a nearby shelf where another spare tie lay rolled. Unfurling the smooth fabric, he brought it to your face. “Close your eyes Y/N.”, he commanded softly.

You obeyed and a second later, the silk was wrapped snugly over your eyes, secured at the back of your head. Darkness descended instantly. Without your sight, the remaining senses heightened to an almost agonizing degree. The cool air of the office on your skin, the scent of his citrus cologne mixed with coffee, and the heavy sound of his breathing all filled your mind.

The feeling of being completely bound and blinded, standing before him in his own office, made a sweet, heavy ache bloom between your thighs. A soft, helpless whimper escaped your lips, a tiny sound of submission that felt incredibly loud in the quiet room. Yoongi paused, his breath catching just inches from your face. A low, dark chuckle vibrated in his chest. "God…”, he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, “You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you make a sound like that. It sounds exactly like I imagined."

Even blindfolded and bound, a spark of playful defiance flared in your chest. "Exactly like you imagined?", you teased softly, tilting your face toward the warmth of his touch, “Have you been spending a lot of time imagining my sounds, Min Yoongi?"

The silence stretched for a heartbeat, thick and heavy with tension. When he spoke again, his voice dropped an octave, rough and completely unraveled. "More than you know.”, he admitted, his hand sliding up to cup your jaw, “I've sat right here at this desk, late at night, pleasuring myself until I was completely blind just thinking about you in this office. Thinking about having you right where you are now." The sheer honesty of his confession sent a violent rush of heat straight to your core, making your knees instantly weak.

Yoongi’s hands slid up your bound arms, tracing the line of your shoulders before his fingers tangled into your hair, tilting your head back. He leaned down and kissed you, a deep, possessive, hungry kiss that tasted faintly of the chocolate cake from earlier. You gasped into his mouth, completely unraveled by the sheer dominance of his touch.

He broke the kiss, his hands guiding you back a few steps until your hips met the edge of his massive desk. He lifted you effortlessly, seating you on the polished wood. Yoongi didn't give you time to think. His hands slid down to the top of your jeans, undoing the button before hooking his fingers into the waistband. He slid them down your legs and tossed them away, completely exposing your core.

Instead of pulling you closer, Yoongi sank to his knees on the floor between your open legs. Your breath hitched as his hands gripped your outer thighs, spreading them wide. You tried to shift, but with your arms bound behind your back and your vision gone, you were completely at his mercy, forced to anticipate his touch in the dark.

When his tongue made contact with your core, your head snapped back, a sharp groan escaping your lips and echoing off the high ceilings. He was relentless, starting with long, deep strokes that smoothed over your damp heat, tasting the slickness that had already gathered there.

He discovered your rhythm instantly because you couldn't use your hands or see his movements, every sensation was magnified ten fold. His thumb found your center, applying just enough pressure to keep you pinned to his mouth, while his tongue flicked over you over and over, precise and demanding.

"Yoongi, please.”, you whined, your shoulders tensing as the friction built a frantic, coiled tension in your lower belly. He didn't slow down. He drank you in as you began to tremble, his tongue moving faster, driving you ruthlessly toward the edge. Your body arched off the desk, your breath catching in your throat as a sudden, sharp orgasm rippled through you. Yoongi stayed right there through every pulsing wave, capturing your release until your breathing slowed to ragged pants.

The heavy silence of the room returned, broken only by the sound of your synchronized, ragged breathing. Slowly, Yoongi withdrew, a low exhale leaving his lips as the sudden absence of the heat of his mouth left you shivering. But he wasn't done.

His hands returned to your waist, not to hold you, but to guide you down. With your knees trembling and your wrists still securely bound behind your back, you sank forward, guided entirely by his firm touch until the plush carpet met your knees.

You hovered there in the darkness of the blindfold, completely exposed and breathless. You heard the rustle of his movements, the soft shifting of fabric, the clink of the metal on his belt, before his fingers gently caught your chin, tilting your face upward. Slowly and gently, his hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling into your hair with a tender but unyielding grip. He guided you forward, the heat of his proximity filling your senses until the bare, rounded softness of his top pressed against your lips.

"Open.”, he commanded softly. You parted your lips, welcoming him. Yoongi let out a loud ragged groan as your warmth enveloped him. He began to move, using your mouth to pleasure himself with slow, deliberate strokes. Without your hands to hold onto him or your eyes to track his movements, every slide of his skin against yours felt magnified. The taste of him, the heavy rhythm of his hips, and the sound of his breath and even a little whimper catching in his throat filled your entire universe.

As the friction began to build an unbearable, teasing heat back in your own lower belly, you desperately needed something, anything, to press against and relieve it. Blindly, your hips shifted even closer to the floor. Your knees parted slightly as you felt the texture of soft, cotton fabric beneath you. It was the the pile of discarded clothes, bunched up and carelessly laying on the ground.

Driven by pure instinct, you leaned forward, arching your lower body and desperately grinding your sensitive, aching core against the crumpled fabric, seeking any relief from the persistent ache between your thighs.

Above you, Yoongi suddenly froze. His breath hitched violently, a sharp, ragged sound tearing from his lungs. Through the blindfold, you couldn't see the expression on his face, but you felt the sudden, intense tremor that racked his entire frame. The sight of you, bound, blindfolded, entirely submissive to his touch while mindlessly, desperately seeking friction right in front of him on his office rug shattered whatever fragile restraint he had left.

A low, guttural growl vibrated deep in his chest. His grip on your hair tightened as his pace became frantic and unraveled for a split second. He was right on the precipice, the overwhelming heat of your mouth and the sheer visual of your desperation tearing his control to shreds.

Just as the sensation built to an explosive breaking point, Yoongi suddenly gripped your hair and pulled back, tearing himself away from your lips just in time. He fell back a step and sat down in his leather executive chair, his chest heaving violently as he fought for breath, leaving you breathless, aching, and suspended in the dark.

Before you could fully recover, you felt his strong hands lift you from the floor. Still blindfolded you gasped as he guided you up so that you were straddling him. You could feel his bare, hard length pressing right against your aching entrance.

"Yoongi...", you whispered, adjusting to the sudden shift in gravity with your hands still bound tightly behind your back. "You know what to do.”, Yoongi commanded in your ear, his voice rough and uneven. His hands came to rest on your hips, guiding you downward, “Slowly."

Without your hands for balance, you had to rely entirely on the strength of your legs and the steady anchor of his grip on your hips. Guided by the darkness, you lowered yourself down onto him. Yoongi let out a low, ragged hiss through his teeth, his fingers digging into your waist as you took his length all at once. The sheer heat and fullness of him filled the lingering ache between your thighs. You paused for a fraction of a second adjusting to the sensation before you began to move your hips, sliding up and down his length in the dark.

"Fuck Y/N.,”, Yoongi muttered, his head falling back against the leather of the chair as you set the pace. His chest rose and fell sharply against yours. The rhythm was intoxicating. Every time you came down, he met your movements with a subtle, upward thrust of his hips, driving deeper inside you. The pleasure began to rebuild, sharper and hotter than before, magnified by the sensory deprivation of the blindfold.

But Yoongi’s patience was short-lived. He grabbed your waist, stopping your movement mid-stride. He lifted you off his lap, his hands firmly guiding your trembling body until your front met the smooth, cool surface of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The sudden, freezing contrast of the glass against your flushed skin made you gasp, the chill biting into your chest and thighs. Outside, the blurred, distant lights of the city stretched out into the night, but you couldn't see them, you could only feel the massive, imposing expanse of the window supporting your weight as Yoongi pressed you flat against it.

"Yoongi.”, you breathed, your voice trembling as the sheer vulnerability of the position settled in. Behind you, the room was silent except for the sound of his heavy, ragged breathing. He didn't answer with words. Instead, his broad chest flushed against your back, trapping you securely between his radiating body heat and the cool window. His hands slid down your spine to your hips, his fingers digging in with a bruising, possessive grip that left no room for retreat. He pulled your hips back slightly, arching your spine and aligning your body perfectly with his.

When the blunt tip of his length pressed against your aching, sensitive entrance, a shiver ran straight down your spine. "Don’t worry…only I can see you like this from up here.”, Yoongi murmured against the shell of your ear, his voice a desperate, gravelly sound that sent a thrill through your veins.

Then he pushed forward. He took you from behind in one deep, unyielding thrust that bottomed out inside you. A loud, breathless cry escaped your lips, echoing sharply off the glass. The sensation was overwhelming, the friction, the sudden overflowing fullness, and the cold glass stealing the breath from your lungs all collided at once. Yoongi didn't give you a moment to adjust. He established a relentless, punishing rhythm, his hips crashing against yours with a raw intensity that had been building since he first tied your wrists. Every heavy thrust pushed you harder against the window, the glass groaning faintly under the pressure of your shifting bodies.

Without your hands to anchor you, your body rumbled with every impact. You were entirely dependent on his grip on your waist to keep you upright. The sensory deprivation magnified everything to a breaking point, the slick, wet friction between your thighs, the heat of his skin against your back, and the dominant, rhythmic thud of his body driving into yours.

"Ah! Yoongi, please, it's too much.”, you sobbed out, your head tossing blindly against the cool glass as the tension coiled tight and fierce in your lower belly. "It's not enough.”, he growled in response. His pace quickened becoming faster, harder, and entirely unmerciful. He used his left hand to lift up your left thigh widening the space he had to move and allowing him to reach even deeper inside you. Then his thumb found your sensitive core, he pressed down on your clit as his right had came around and squeeze your breast. At this point he was practically holding you up with his own strength pounding into you as hard and as fast as he could against the glass. He angled his thrusts deeper, hitting the exact spot that sent electric sparks straight to your core.

The friction was blinding. You curled your toes, your thighs shaking violently as the waves of a second, even more intense climax began to crash over you. You were completely at his mercy, suspended in the dark, vibrating with a pleasure so sharp it felt like a ache.

"Yoongi…I'm going to…”

"Go.”, he ordered, his voice breaking as his own pace became frantic, pushed over the edge by the tight, pulsing heat wrapping around him, “Let me feel it. Let me feel you come undone around me. I need it. I…want it.”

With a final, devastatingly deep thrust, your body shattered. A high, fractured undone sound tore from your throat as your orgasm ripped through you, your internal muscles clenching fiercely around his length. The sheer force of your release triggered his own. Yoongi let out a low, guttural ruin of a groan against your neck, driving into you one last time as he spent himself deep inside you, his chest heaving violently against your back as the world faded into nothing but the heat of his touch.

The cold glass of the high-rise window slowly seeped into your skin, grounding you as the adrenaline began to fade. Behind you, Yoongi still buried deep inside you, remained still for a long moment, his forehead resting against your shoulder blade as his breathing gradually mirrored your own ragged pace.

When he finally moved, it was with an unexpected gentleness. He shifted away to give you room, but his hands stayed on your waist, steadying your trembling legs until he was certain you wouldn't collapse. A second later, you felt the restriction around your eyes fall away. The sudden bright blur of the city lights and the dimmed office lamps made you blink rapidly, the dark room slowly coming back into focus. Yoongi reached around you, his fingers deftly untying the silk knot at your wrists. As your hands were freed, you immediately brought them forward, rubbing your skin and turning around to face him. He looked completely unraveled with his hair a beautifully messy contrast to the perfectly styled look from earlier and a soft, incredibly tender expression on his face that you had never seen before.

"You okay?", he asked, his voice still low and a little gravelly. “Yeah.”, you smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself against the solid warmth of his chest, “More than okay actually." He let out a soft laugh, his arms locking around your waist to lift you slightly off your feet as he sat back down in his chair and held you close against him in his lap.

Later, after you had both gotten dressed and successfully snuck past a very knowing security guard in the parking garage, you walked out into the cool night air. The rain had cleared, leaving the city streets glistening under the neon signs.

Yoongi reached down, his fingers sliding between yours and squeezing your hand tightly as you walked toward his car. “So…”, you said, glancing up at him with a playful smirk, "what happens on Monday when you're back in your suit and I'm behind the counter?" Yoongi didn't look away from the path ahead, but a genuine, effortless smile spread across his face, lighting up his eyes. "On Monday, at exactly 8:10, I'm coming down to get a medium americano. And if the barista doesn't have it perfectly made in a sufficient amount of time…I might just have to make them come upstairs to my office and explain themselves."

You laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder as you walked together. The six weeks were over and the café routine would go back to normal but as you looked at your tangled hands, you knew your mornings would never be the same again.

Your vision blurred again, “Idiot…” The word came out broken because suddenly you were noticing everything. The blanket folded neatly at the foot of your bed. The missing handle to your closet door he must’ve fixed last minute. The lightbulb in your bedroom replaced. Every little thing he’d quietly taken care of before leaving. Like he’d been saying goodbye without you realizing it.

Your chest hurt. How long had he known? How long had he been planning this? Two weeks? A month? Since the wedding? Since that morning in the kitchen? The memory hit you like a punch. You’d thought he was accepting blame. Now you wondered if he’d been making a decision in that moment.

Your hands started shaking harder. The letter crinkled slightly in your grip. Finally, with trembling fingers, you broke the seal. Inside was a single folded page. The handwriting was unmistakably his. It was messy, uneven, like his thoughts were going faster than his hands could keep up. You swallowed hard, then began to read.

Y/N,

I don’t know how to do this without making it worse. If you’re reading this, I’ve already left. I know you’re angry at me. You should be. You’ve always been right about me, more than I wanted you to be.

I left because I don’t know how to love you without ruining you. That’s the truth I’ve been avoiding. Not because I don’t love you but because I do. Too much for my own good. In a way that makes me reckless. In a way that makes me selfish without meaning to be. In a way that always ends with you crying and me pretending I didn’t see it.

I’ve spent so many years telling myself I left because I loved you. But sitting there listening to you cry, I started wondering if maybe that’s just a lie I’ve been telling myself so I can sleep at night. Because if I really loved you the way I claimed to… why do I keep being the reason you hurt?

You deserve stability. You deserve quiet love. You deserve mornings that don’t come with questions. And I am not that. I wish I was. Because if I could be anyone different, I’d be the version of me that didn’t leave you the first time. Or the one writing this letter instead of standing in front of you trying not to fall apart.

I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to stay and do this properly. I’m sorry I keep choosing distance over honesty. I’m sorry I made you feel like you were waiting for someone who never arrives. You were never waiting for nothing. You were waiting for me and I just keep failing you.

I don’t know what I’ll be to you after this. A memory. A mistake. A lesson. A name you stop saying out loud. Whatever it is, I’ll accept it. I’m thankful I just got lucky enough to love you for a while.

If you ever think of me, I hope it doesn’t hurt forever. I hope it fades. I hope one day you laugh when someone mentions my name. Not because I didn’t matter but because you finally stopped hurting when you think of me.

I’ve always chosen you. Just never in the ways that mattered. And that’s why I’m leaving. Because for once in my life I need to stop asking myself what I want. I know what I want. I’ve known since I was sixteen.

I’m sorry I wasn’t better. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough. I’m sorry I loved you like this. The problem is that wanting something and deserving it are not the same thing.

-Yoongi

You read the letter three times. Then a fourth. Then a fifth. By the end, your vision was so blurred from crying you could barely make out the words anymore.

The apartment felt empty. Wrong. Every room echoed. Every hallway reminded you of him. The stupid thing was that you finally understood. After years of anger, years of resentment, years of believing he hadn’t cared enough to stay…you finally understood. And now he was gone. Again.

Three days later, you found yourself sitting across from Yoongi’s mother. The little restaurant hadn’t changed. Neither had she. She still smiled the same way, still reached across the table to squeeze your hand the second she saw you. “Oh, sweetheart.”, she said already knowing. Your throat tightened immediately. Mothers always knew.

The food arrived, but neither of you touched it. Eventually she sighed, a sad smile crossing her face, “You know…I always thought you two would figure this whole thing between you out.” You laughed weakly, “Yeah…Apparently not.”

“No.”, she looked out the window, “Apparently not.” Silence settled between you. Then she surprised you, “You know…after he left the first time, he used to call me every Sunday.” You looked up. She smiled softly, “And the first thing he’d ask wasn’t how I was doing or what was his father up to…It was always you.” Your heart stopped, “What?”

“‘How’s Y/N?”, she laughed quietly, “Is she still working too hard? Is she eating well? Did she move apartments? Is she dating anyone?’”

Each question hit like a punch. You stared at her, unable to speak. She continued, “He’d call for twenty minutes and fifteen of them were about you. He never stopped asking.” The tears arrived before you could stop them. His mother reached across the table, taking your hand, “He was gone for years, sweetheart.”, her voice softened, “But he never left you behind even though he tried.”

You were crying openly now, not caring who saw, not caring about anything. Because suddenly all those years looked different. All those years you thought he had forgotten, meanwhile he had been carrying you with him everywhere.

His mother smiled sadly, “When you guys were teenagers he tried so hard to pretend he didn’t have a crush on you. Then I found a notebook of songs.” Your eyebrows shot up. She laughed, “ Oh yes…Every single one was about the same girl with the prettiest eyes and the smile so warm it could melt an iceberg.” For the first time in days, you laughed. A real laugh. His mother smiled like she knew that story would bring it out of you.

Eventually the conversation quieted and the question you’d been avoiding finally surfaced. You stared down at your untouched food, then whispered, “Do you know where he went?” Her smile disappeared immediately. Your stomach dropped because that hesitation told you everything.

“Sweetheart…”, she started. You leaned forward, “Please.” She looked torn like she was debating whether she should tell you, whether she was betraying her son or helping him. Finally, she sighed, “He accepted a position with a record label.” Your pulse jumped, “A record label?” She nodded, “He said he was done with the corporate world and finally decided to just go for it. To follow his dreams.”

Your heart was hammering now, “Where?” Another pause. Then she told you. The room went completely silent. Halfway across the world. Thousands of miles away. An entirely different country, a completely different life. Exactly the kind of place someone would go if they never intended to come back….or be easily followed.

His mother watched your expression carefully, then smiled. A knowing smile, the kind mothers have when they’ve figured something out before everyone else, “Y/N. If you’re going to go to him…don’t wait as long as he did.”

Three hours later you were sitting in your apartment surrounded by chaos. Passport on the table, laptop open, and flight and hotel websites covering your screen, with Mina sitting beside you in complete disbelief.

You clicked confirm. The ticket loaded and your stomach flipped with fear, excitement, terror, and hope, all at once. Mina stared, then shook her head, “I really never had a chance.” Your phone buzzed with the confirmation text. You were still staring at it when Mina suddenly spoke quietly, “I think I knew all along.”

You looked up. She was curled into the corner of the couch, holding a mug she’d barely touched.“Knew what?”, you asked. Mina laughed softly, the sound sad, “About you two.” Your stomach twisted, “Mina…” She shrugged, “I didn’t know everything but I knew enough.” You closed your laptop slowly. Mina stared down into her coffee and continued, “When he first moved in, I honestly thought I had a chance of making him officially mine.” The confession hit you like a punch, and guilt immediately flooded your chest, “Mina…”

She waved you off, “No. Let me finish. I kept telling myself I was imagining things. But then I’d catch him looking at you and every single time you walked into a room he’d smile even though he tried not to.” Mina laughed softly, “Didn’t matter what he was doing. He’d notice you.” Your chest hurt. You swallowed hard, “I’m sorry.” Mina looked up, genuine confusion crossing her face, “For what?”

“For not telling you.”, your voice cracked slightly, “For allowing this to happen. For letting him lead you on and not stepping in. For making you feel stupid.” Immediately she shook her head, “You didn’t.”

“Mina…”, you tried but she cut you off. “You didn’t. I don’t think either of you even understood what was happening. And honestly?”, she sighed sadly, “I think I was just jealous of you and felt like I wanted to win even though I knew it was pointless.” The words stung not because they were cruel, but because they weren’t. They were honest. She continued, “I knew he cared about me in his own way but there was always this part of him that belonged somewhere else and I knew that. I still tried to force it even though I knew I’d probably end up hurt and maybe…I kind of liked that.”

Silence settled between you. Mina gave a watery laugh, “You know the worst part? I don’t even think he realized he was doing it.” That made you laugh through your tears, because that sounded exactly like Yoongi. Hopelessly clueless Yoongi.

A few moments later, Mina nudged your leg with her foot, “So…that guy has apparently been in love with you since dinosaurs walked the earth.”You groaned. Mina continued mercilessly, “He moved across the world because he thought you deserved better.”

“That’s not exactly romantic.”, you grumbled, “And he did it twice.”

“It is in a deeply concerning emotionally unavailable kind of way.”, she laughed. You shook your head. She smiled, then her expression softened, “If you love him…then go.” The apartment fell quiet again. Mina looked toward the hallway then back at you, “And for the love of God, work your issues out this time so there doesn’t have to be any more collateral damage.” You covered your face, “Please stop.”

“I’m just saying.”, she grinned, “If you come back single again I’m charging both of you for the emotional and physical damage this has caused me.” And for the first time since Yoongi left, the future didn’t feel completely hopeless. Maybe terrifying, maybe impossible, but not hopeless.

The night before your flight you had one more thing to take care of. The one thing you were dreading the most. You found yourself standing outside Jungkook’s apartment with your hands shoved into your pockets. You almost left twice not because you didn’t know what you needed to say, but because you did. That was the problem. You knocked and the door opened before you could chicken out. Jungkook took one look at your face and sighed. Your heart immediately broke. He stepped aside, “Come in.”

You followed him into the apartment where the familiar space made everything worse. Movie nights, takeout containers, lazy Sundays, inside jokes. It used to all be comfort. Jungkook had always been comfort and now you were about to hurt him. The realization made you feel sick. He sat on the couch while you remained standing, neither of you speaking for several seconds. Finally, Jungkook rubbed his hands together, “…So.”

Your eyes filled immediately and he noticed. His expression softened, “Damn. “A laugh escaped you through the tears, “Damn?” He sighed again, “I was hoping I was wrong.” You stared at the floor, “I’m so sorry.” Jungkook nodded slowly, “Yeah.” The honesty almost made you cry harder. No anger, no accusations, just hurt which felt worse than if he would’ve screamed at you and called you names.

You sat down next to him, “Jungkook…” “No.”, his voice wasn’t harsh, just tired, “I know.” You blinked, “What?” A sad smile appeared, “I’ve known pretty much since that day he confronted us by the door.” The room went silent as your stomach dropped. Jungkook looked away briefly, “You think I didn’t see the way you looked at him?” Tears slipped down your cheeks. The confession shattered something inside you because suddenly all those months replayed differently. Every time he’d checked if you were okay, every time he’d quietly stepped back, every time he’d looked at Yoongi. He had known the entire time. Jungkook laughed once, “No guy wants to hear his girlfriend say another man’s name in her sleep.” Your eyes widened, “Oh my God.” He rubbed his face, “Yeah…not my favorite moment.” Mortification flooded through you, “I am so sorry.” He nodded, “I know.” Your chest felt tight as Jungkook stared at the coffee table, then quietly asked, “Do you love him?” The question hung between you, heavy and terrifying. You could lie. Maybe you should. Maybe it would make it hurt less. But Jungkook deserved better than that, so you nodded once. Just the smallest movement.

Jungkook closed his eyes just for a second. When he opened them again, they looked suspiciously glassy. “Okay.”, the word came out rough, like he’d already known the answer, like hearing it still hurt anyway. Jungkook looked down. You watched his throat move, watched him struggle, then finally he laughed a sad, broken little laugh. You started crying immediately, “I’m sorry. You deserve better.” That finally made him look up at you immediately. “No Y/N.”, his voice was firm. You froze. Jungkook shook his head, “Don’t do that. Don’t make me the victim.” The words hit hard because he was right. He took a shaky breath, “You didn’t choose him over me. You chose him years before you ever met me.” Fresh tears slid down your face.

Jungkook leaned back against the couch, exhaustion written all over him, “I think part of me always knew this was how it ended.” The apartment felt impossibly small, then suddenly he laughed, “You know what’s really annoying?” You sniffled, “What?” He chuckled, “I actually hate him.” A startled laugh escaped you. Jungkook pointed toward you, “Don’t laugh. Seriously…this guy disappears for years, comes back, emotionally devastates everyone in a five-mile radius of him, leaves again, and yet somehow you’re getting on a plane for him. Like does he have a magic dick or something? I just don’t get it.”

Despite everything, you laughed a wet, broken laugh. Jungkook actually laughed a long with you too. For a moment neither of you spoke, then his expression softened, “You’re leaving tomorrow aren’t you?” You nodded. He swallowed, then stood, so you stood too. And before you knew it he pulled you into a hug. The kind that felt like goodbye, the kind that lasted a little too long, the kind where both people knew there was no fixing it.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes were red, “So…” You wiped your face, “So…” Jungkook pointed toward the door. “Since you just ripped my heart out I guess it’s not to harsh for me to ask you to please leave…politely of course.” A laugh burst out through your tears and as you stepped into the hallway, Jungkook called after you one last time, “Y/N.” You turned and he smiled, “If he makes you cry again, I will fly over there and I will kill him myself.” You laughed, “Promise?” He smiled, “Always.” Then you nodded and walked away.

The flight had been awful and the jet lag was even worse. Finding Yoongi, however, was apparently impossible. By the end of the second day, you were ready to scream. You’d gone to his apartment and found nothing. You stood outside Apartment 613 long enough for a concerned elderly neighbor to ask if you were okay. You’d gone to the record label and got nothing there, either. The receptionist had smiled politely and informed you that Yoongi wasn’t in the building but that she would pass a long the message. When you came back three hours later, there was still nothing. Of course he was smart enough to change his number and conveniently his mom wasn’t answering her phone.

You’d spent an embarrassing amount of money on ride services, walked until your feet hurt, and survived entirely on coffee and spite. Somehow, you still hadn’t found him, which felt fitting. Apparently, chasing Min Yoongi across the globe was exactly as frustrating as emotionally chasing him through your life. By the time evening on the third day arrived, you were exhausted physically and emotionally. You stood on a crowded sidewalk staring at your phone. No new messages. No miracles. No Yoongi. A lump formed in your throat. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe you’d crossed an ocean for a man who genuinely didn’t want to be found.

The thought hurt more than you wanted to admit. You shoved your phone into your pocket. “Fine.”, you muttered as your stomach growled. You decided to finally have a decent meal and try to come up with a new plan. The city glowed around you as you wandered aimlessly down unfamiliar streets, neon signs flickering overhead as people laughed and music drifted from open doorways. And then you saw it. A tiny noodle shop tucked between two larger buildings.

You stopped walking, your heart immediately squeezing because it looked almost identical to the place you and Yoongi used to visit in college. It was just like that little hole-in-the-wall restaurant near campus, the one with mismatched chairs where you spent hours pretending to study. The one where Yoongi claimed the noodles were life-changing and where he’d stolen dumplings off your plate every single time even after claiming he didn’t like them.

Your chest tightened. God, everything reminded you of him. You stood there for a moment, then sighed. “One bowl of noodles.”, you said. Your stomach deserved food and your heart deserved a break.

You pushed open the door, a little bell chiming overhead as the warm smell of broth immediately wrapped around you. For the first time all day, you relaxed slightly. The restaurant was cozy, small, crowded, but comfortable. Your eyes drifted across the room, taking in a family in the corner, a couple sharing dumplings, and two students arguing over something in a textbook.

Then, you froze. Your entire body froze. Because right in front of you in the restaurant sat Yoongi, eating noodles.

Your brain completely stopped working. For one second, you wondered if jet lag had finally killed you because there was absolutely no way this was real life. After days of searching, after crossing an ocean, after all of that, he was just…calmly eating noodles.

At the exact same moment, Yoongi looked up. His eyes landed on you. The chopsticks froze halfway to his mouth, a noodle dangling from between his lips. The entire restaurant disappeared. Neither of you moved and neither of you breathed. For a solid five seconds, Yoongi simply stared. Then the noodle slipped from his mouth and fell back into the bowl. You blinked. He blinked. A woman at the next table glanced between both of you with growing concern, but still neither of you spoke.

Finally, you folded your arms, “I flew halfway across the world.” Yoongi continued staring. “I spent days looking for you.”, you continued. Nothing. You narrowed your eyes, “You are literally impossible to find.” Still nothing. His brain had clearly left the building. You pointed at him, “Say something.” Yoongi opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. Nothing came out. The sight would have been satisfying if it wasn’t so infuriating. Finally, he managed, “…Y/N?” You stared, “Wow..Good job.”

His eyes widened slightly like he still wasn’t convinced you were real. “Oh my God.”, the words left him in a whisper. You watched him stand so quickly his chair nearly toppled backward. Several customers turned to look, but Yoongi didn’t notice. He looked completely and utterly shell-shocked like he’d opened his front door and found a sparkly unicorn waiting outside.

“You’re actually here.”, he whispered. You laughed once, a little hysterically at this point. The familiar laugh finally seemed to break through his shock, and his eyes immediately filled with something dangerous, emotional, and heavy enough to make your heartbeat stumble. Because suddenly, he looked exactly like he had at the wedding when you’d chosen Jungkook, like he was terrified you might disappear if he blinked.

Yoongi didn’t say anything for a full thirty seconds after recognizing you. Then, very quietly, like he still wasn’t convinced you were real, he said your name again, “Y/N…” You folded your arms, “Yes. Still me. Unfortunately for your peace of mind.”

That got a reaction, barely. His mouth twitched like he might smile, but it didn’t make it all the way. Instead, he glanced around the noodle shop like he expected you to vanish if he looked away too long. “You’re actually here.”, he said again, softer this time. You sighed, “We’ve established that.” He finally moved, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair too quickly and knocking his chopsticks sideways in the process, “I…come with me.” It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t exactly a demand either. It was something tense in between. You hesitated just long enough to realize you didn’t actually have a plan beyond this moment, then you nodded, “Fine.”

His apartment was exactly how you’d expected it to be. Not in a bad way, but in a classic him way. It was quiet, minimal, and entirely too organized for someone who clearly didn’t have his life together emotionally. You stood in the middle of the room while he paced slightly behind you, looking like he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

Silence stretched between you. It wasn’t comfortable or soft. It was heavy and full of everything neither of you were saying. You finally exhaled, cutting through the tension, “I read your letter.” Yoongi froze. “And?”, he asked carefully. “And I flew across the world.”, you said, your voice tightening, “because apparently I’m insane.”

His jaw clenched, “You didn’t have to do that.” You let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, “You don’t get to write something like that, disappear and then act surprised when I show up because I’m fed up with this game.” His eyes flickered, “I was trying to do what was right.”

“That’s your favorite thing to do, isn’t it?”, you shot back, “Deciding what’s right for me without ever asking me?” The blow landed and you saw it hit him. But instead of backing down, something in him hardened, “Y/N, you think this is easy for me?”

“I think you make it easy for yourself.”, you said immediately, “Without caring what it does to anyone else.” The room went dead still as Yoongi stared at you. Then he scoffed softly, “Of course. Of course you’d say that.” Your chest burned, “Say what?” He scoffed, “That I’m the villain in your story.”

“I didn’t say you were the villain.”, you snapped, “I said you keep treating my life like something you get to manage from a distance.” His voice rose slightly, his composure cracking, “I stayed away because every time I get close, I ruin things.”

“That’s not your decision to make!”,you shouted. Yoongi’s expression sharpened, “And what? You want me to stay and do it again?”

“Yes!”, you shot back immediately, then froze. The word hung heavily in the air between you. Yoongi went quiet and for a second, neither of you moved. Then he shook his head slightly, “You just don’t get it.”

“Oh my God.”, you laughed bitterly. “There it is again. You explaining my feelings to me.” His eyes darkened, “I’m not explaining your feelings.”

“Yes, you are!”, You stepped forward again, your voice shaking now, “You did it in the kitchen. You did it in that letter. You did it every time you decided I’d be better off without you!” Yoongi’s voice cracked slightly when he answered, shouting back, “Because you would be! You just refuse to accept that!”

That shut you up for half a second, but then the anger came back worse. “So…”, you said slowly, “you just get to decide that? You get to come into my life, wreck it, disappear, come back, disappear again…what is this to you, Yoongi? Some kind of game you’re trying to win with your own rules?” His breathing was uneven now, “It’s not a game.”

“It sure feels like one.”, you spat back. Silence filled the space between you again. And then he said it low, cold, and cutting, “Maybe you should’ve stayed away like I told you. There’s a reason I did that Y/N…but you’re too selfish to accept it.” Your expression broke before you could stop it.

Yoongi looked like he realized what he'd said a second too late, but you were already shaking your head, grabbing your bag from the floor, “No…no, I get it now. I flew across the world thinking I was coming to fix something that should’ve been fixed years ago, but you don’t want to be fixed…even with me in it.”

“Y/N…”, he tried but you stopped him. Your voice cracked, “Don’t do that thing where you say my name like you care after you just broke my heart.” Yoongi stepped forward, “I didn’t mean it like that.” You let out a humorless laugh, “You always say that.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Your hand tightened on your bag strap as you looked at him one last time, really looked, like you were memorizing him all over again. “I can’t do this any more Yoongi.”, you said quietly. That made him stop completely and without another word, you turned and left.

The next morning, the city felt different. You stood outside Yoongi’s apartment building for a long time before you moved, watching people pass as life continued around you. You didn’t care. Your hands were surprisingly steady when you wrote the letter, which shocked you, because nothing else about you had been steady for days. You taped it to his door, stared at it one final time, and walked away.

Yoongi,

I don’t think I can keep doing this. I don’t think you know what you’re doing to me and I don’t think I know what I’m doing to you anymore either. We keep finding each other like this and every time it hurts more than the last.

I came here because I thought I needed answers, but I think what I actually needed was a decision. So I’m making one. You don’t get to be halfway in my life. Not anymore. Not ever again. Not after everything. Not after I flew across the world thinking love was enough to fix whatever this is between us. It’s not. Not like this.

So this is it for me. If you ever want me in your life again, it has to be completely. Not in pieces, not in distance, not in silence, and certainly not in "I’m leaving because I love you." All of you, or none of you. Because I can’t keep bleeding in between, and I won’t.

I love you. I always have. But I’m done being the only one who acts like it.

-Y/N

You didn’t hear from Yoongi again, not a text, not a call, not a letter. At first, you checked more than you wanted to admit, where every notification made your chest jump and every unknown number made your breath catch. But nothing ever turned into him. Weeks became months, then just…life. Slowly you learned how to exist without waiting. It didn’t feel like healing. You went back to work, you laughed again sometimes, you stopped reading old messages, and you stopped keeping your phone face-up at night.

And one day, you realized something terrifying. It didn’t hurt as sharply anymore. Mina helped with that and so did Jungkook. Especially Jungkook.

Somewhere along the way, without drama or declarations, it happened. And Mina stopped pretending she wasn’t terrified of how much she cared for him. They told you one evening over takeout like it was normal. When Mina carefully announced that they were dating, you could only stare while Jungkook scratched the back of his neck, muttering that it just kind of happened.

You blinked slowly, noting that of course it did, which immediately earned a pointed warning from Mina not to start after what you put both of them through. You laughed a little, defending yourself, but Jungkook cut in to declare that you were coming out with them tonight.

You protested instantly, but they tag-teamed you, shutting down your desire to stay home by arguing that it had been months and you weren't allowed to isolate forever. When you muttered that you were absolutely allowed, Mina grabbed your jacket, forcing you to stand up automatically. Squinting at them, you asked why you felt like you were being ambushed, but Jungkook just avoided your eyes, calling that a strong word. You looked between them slowly and suspiciously, demanding to know what they did. Their silence was too fast and too synchronized, which was answer enough.

The car ride was long and neither of them would tell you where you were going which alone made your stomach twist. When you pointed out for the third time that they were acting weird, Mina just hummed and Jungkook calmly agreed, offering no reassurance. You stared out the window as buildings blurred past, a familiar unease tightening in your chest. It was an old instinct and you hated that part of you still recognized the exact feeling that came right before everything changed.

The car finally slowed and stopped in front of a concert hall. Jungkook opened your door, and despite your confusion, Mina grabbed your hand to pull you inside, with Jungkook quietly promising that you would soon find out exactly who was performing.

The hall was dim, filled with too many people and a heavy sense of quiet anticipation that made your pulse start to pick up. You whispered that this was stupid and threatened to leave, but Jungkook calmly blocked your exit while Mina sweetly promised you would thank them later as she pulled you down to your seats. Suddenly, the lights dimmed completely, the crowd shifted, and a ripple of sound moved through the room. The stage lights came on, and your breath stopped.

Because there he was. Yoongi was sitting at a piano with no introduction and no announcement. Just him, looking like he had always belonged there.

Your entire body went rigid. You whispered a sharp refusal and tried to stand, but Mina grabbed your wrist and ordered you to sit, while Jungkook moved his chair behind you to block the aisle. You glared at them, furious, but Mina didn't look away as she insisted you were staying. Your chest pounded. On stage, Yoongi hadn’t moved yet. He was just sitting there looking out into the crowd. And then his eyes found you. Everything in you froze. It wasn’t shock this time, nor was it confusion. It was recognition, like he had known exactly where you’d be sitting before you even walked in.

The room fell completely silent before he finally lowered his hands to the keys and played. The first note hit like a memory you didn’t realize you still had. It was soft, careful, and broken in a way that didn’t hurt at first, but slowly started to. You sank back into your seat because your body forgot how to do anything else. The music built gently, not loud or dramatic, but something quieter and more devastating, like someone telling the truth for the first time without speaking.

You felt it before you understood it. This wasn’t just a song, it was a confession. The melody rose and fell like breathing through grief like learning how to survive something you didn’t survive fully.

And then, he started singing. His voice was lower than you remembered, softer too, and worn at the edges, like it had been carrying something heavy for a long time as he sang, "I loved you too late…and I left you too soon…" Your breath caught. Mina’s grip tightened on your hand and Jungkook didn’t move. On stage, Yoongi kept playing, his eyes never leaving the keys, as if looking at you directly would break him. The lyrics weren’t just about love. They were about absence, about choosing distance, and about convincing yourself that leaving someone is the same as saving them. They were about waking up too late to realize you were wrong.

Your vision blurred. You hated that. Hated that it still reached you, hated that your chest still responded before your mind could catch up. The chorus hit softer, almost like a plea: "If I could rewrite every silence I chose…I would stay…I would stay…I would stay…" His voice cracked slightly on the last repetition. Just barely, but you heard it. Everyone heard it. And the entire hall stayed perfectly still.

The song didn’t end like a resolution. It didn’t fix anything. It just…continued. Like life, like grief, like loving someone you don’t know how to reach anymore. When the final note faded, Yoongi didn’t stand, didn’t bow, and didn’t speak. He just sat there with his hands still on the keys, breathing hard, like he had agiven everything he had to something that might never come back to him. And in the silence that followed, you realized something terrifying.

This wasn’t an apology. It was an answer.

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“Exactly.”, he grumbled. You smiled, scratching behind one of his ears. The low purr that escaped him was completely involuntary. Then he froze because suddenly he noticed the other voices. Your friends filed into the house carrying overnight bags, blankets, and enough junk food to feed an army. Yoongi slowly lifted his head. His golden eyes widened, then narrowed, then widened again, “…Why are they here?” One of your friends waved cheerfully, “Sleepover!” Another held up a giant bag of shrimp chips, “I brought your favorite just for you!”

The horrified look on Yoongi’s face was priceless. You could practically see the moment his plans shattered. Plans that had probably consisted entirely of monopolizing your attention and curling up against your side for the entirety of the night and the following day too. “Oh.”, he said flatly. His ears drooped, his tail stopped swishing, and the room went silent.

“Oh no.”, one friend whispered, “Look at his face. He’s heartbroken.” “I’ve never seen a cat look so betrayed.”, another one of your friends added. Yoongi glared, “I am not betrayed…just mildly annoyed.” His tail gave an offended flick. Without another word he turned around and marched toward the bedroom. The door slamming a moment later nearly made everyone burst into laughter.

For the next hour, Yoongi remained hidden. You and the girls had taken over the living room while you all chatted, but every now and then you’d hear movement from the bedroom. The door opening. A sigh. Another sigh. A louder sigh. One particularly theatrical sigh. Eventually you left your friends and headed down the hallway. The bedroom door was cracked open. Inside, Yoongi was sprawled face-down across the bed. “You okay?”, you asked. He grumbled something into the blanket that you couldn’t quite catch but you imagined it was something sarcastic and dramatic. You bit back a smile, “Still upset?” He turned his head so you could hear him, “You abandoned me.”

“I was gone for a few hours.”, you replied. He turned his head back into the comforter, “You replaced me.” That one got a laugh out of you, “I did not. They’re not replacing you.” You sat beside him. His ears twitched and his tail immediately found its way around your wrist despite his continued attempt to appear upset. You reached over and squeezed his hand, “Come hang out with us.” He shook his head, “No.”

“They like you.”

“I don’t care.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You absolutely do.”

“…Maybe a little.”, he finally admitted. You laughed and Yoongi finally rolled over and looked at you. His pout was impressive, legendary even. You leaned forward and kissed his forehead, then one ear, then his nose. The pout weakened considerably more each time. “Come sit with us.”, you said resting your head on his chest. He sighed, “Fine.”

A little while later you headed into the kitchen to prepare more snacks. When everything was finally arranged onto trays, you carried them toward the living room, then stopped dead in the doorway. Because the scene before you was ridiculous…and heartwarming.

Yoongi sat on the floor right in front of the center of the couch, completely surrounded. One of your friends was brushing his hair, another was carefully painting his nails a sparky blue, a third was braiding a tiny section of hair near the end of his tail, and the fourth was rubbing behind his ears. Yoongi looked utterly trapped.

“Help me.”, he deadpanned. Nobody believed him especially because his eyes were half-closed and he was purring loudly. “Yeah you seem miserable.”, you laughed. “I am.”, the purring grew louder. One of your friends scratched under his chin, and Yoongi nearly melted against the couch. “This is terrible.”, he muttered, “Absolutely awful.”

“You can leave whenever you want.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to stay.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you still here?”

He opened one eye, “Shhhhhh.”

The entire room burst into laughter. His ears flattened, “I’m glad my struggles bring you guys so much joy.” The friend brushing his hair switched to gentle strokes behind his ears. Yoongi’s eyes immediately closed again and a loud purr rumbled through the room. Nobody said anything. They simply smiled knowingly.

By the end of the night, his nails were painted, his hair was softer than ever, his skin was moisturized, and of course he had become everyone’s favorite member of the sleepover. When the snacks were gone and everyone settled under blankets, someone put on the cheesiest romance movie imaginable. The kind Yoongi always claimed to hate.

You ended up curled against his side beneath a blanket, his arm wrapped securely around your waist and his tail tangled lazily around your leg. Halfway through the movie, you glanced up. Yoongi was completely invested, staring at the screen with a serious expression. When the main couple finally kissed in the rain, one of your friends gasped dramatically and another squealed. Yoongi rolled his eyes, yet somehow kept watching.

You smiled, “Thought you hated romance movies.” He nodded, “I do.” He looked down at you his expression softening instantly. The irritation was disappearing, the jealousy gone, the pout vanished. All that remained was the look he only ever gave you, “But I like this one.”

“Why is that?”, you asked. His ears twitched and his arm tightened around your waist, “Because you’re here.” Your heart melted. A chorus of groans erupted from your friends.

“THAT WAS SO CUTE.”

“Oh my god.”

“He’s so adorable.”

“HE’S WORSE THAN THE MOVIE!”

Yoongi immediately buried his face in your shoulder, mortified. You laughed and wrapped your arms around him while his tail curled happily around both of you. And despite all of his complaints about girls’ night and sleepovers, and being pampered…supposedly against his will, the steady purring of contentment against your neck that lasted until everyone finally fell asleep confirmed everything you already knew.

The nursery you had painted in soft creams and warm sage. The one that once held tiny clothes folded with excitement became something else. One afternoon, you and Yoongi stood in the doorway together, silent for a long time.

“You think it would be weird.”, he said carefully, voice low, “if we changed it?” You had looked at the empty crib, the little mobile of stars still hanging like a memory that refused to leave. “No.”, you had answered. After a pause, you added, “I think we need to.” So you did. The crib went away first. Then the boxes of baby clothes you’d never opened past the first layer. You donated them in stages, like you couldn’t quite let go all at once. Yoongi carried most of the boxes himself, jaw tight, saying very little except, “We don’t have to rush.” You didn’t and when it was done, when the room was finally empty of expectation, you both stood in it again. This time, it didn’t feel like loss. It felt like breath.

The library came slowly after that. Shelves built together on weekends. Paint samples argued over in hardware store aisles. He wanted to go darker while you still wanted the room to be light. A soft reading couch Yoongi insisted on testing first for “stability purposes” which somehow turned into him falling asleep in it twice during the trial phase. You added a soft fluffy rug and a small coffee station in the corner. You filled the space with books you loved and books you promised you’d finally get around to reading. It became your quiet place. A place that didn’t ask anything of you.

Months softened into that rhythm. Coffee in the mornings. Shared silence in the evenings. Yoongi’s hand finding yours without thinking like muscle memory. Love didn’t shrink it just changed shape, settling into something steadier, less desperate, more lived-in.

And then, one ordinary week, your body changed in ways you almost didn’t notice at first. Fatigue you blamed on work. Nausea you dismissed as stress and a forgetfulness to consume anything other than caffeine and a candy bar. A strange stillness in your chest that didn’t feel like sadness this time, but something else entirely.

You told yourself not to read into it. You had learned that lesson too many times. But you remembered the box of tests that sat underneath the sink anyway. You hadn’t planned it as a big moment. In fact, you had planned the opposite. You wanted it to be private. Safe. Something that could exist even if it wasn’t real. You didn’t tell him at first.

But when the two lines appeared, faint at first, then undeniable, you just stood there in your bathroom, staring like it might disappear if you blinked too hard.

Your hands started shaking. Yoongi was in the library when you finally found him. Sitting on that same couch he was always “testing,” one ankle crossed over his knee, a book resting open in his hands. Glasses low on his nose. Hair slightly messy in the way that meant he’d been there longer than he realized.

“Hey.”, you said softly. He looked up immediately like your voice was something he always tuned himself to. “Hey.”, he answered, gently, “You okay?” You stepped into the room, closing the door behind you. “I need you to look at something.”, you said. His expression shifted just slightly.

You stepped closer and suddenly your throat felt too tight for words, so you just pulled the test from your pocket and held it out. Everything stopped. Yoongi didn’t sit up fully at first. He just stared at it. Then he blinked.

Once. Twice. “No.”, he said automatically. Quietly, almost like denying it could keep it from hurting you. You gave a small, shaky breath, “Yes.” He sat up so fast he nearly knocked the couch back against the wall. Wait…what?”, his voice cracked right in the middle of it which would’ve been funny if your heart wasn’t trying to climb out of your chest.

“I took it three times.”, you rushed out, “Because I thought I was hallucinating or like stress or something.”

“Stop talking.”, he said quickly. Not in a harsh way but just pure shock. You giggled. He stood. Then immediately sat back down again like his legs forgot how to work. Then stood again.“This is…this is real?”, he asked, softer now. You nodded and that was it. That was the moment something in him just…cracked open.

Just enough that he looked like he didn’t know war to do with all of it. “Come here.”, he said. You didn’t even get halfway before he pulled you in. Hard. His arms wrapped around you so tightly you made a small noise of protest.

“Yoongi…can’t breathe…”

“Sorry.”, he mumbled immediately, loosening just a fraction. Then, quieter into your shoulder, “Actually…no I’m not.”

That got a laugh out of you. A real one. He pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were wet. Which…okay. That made you more emotional because now it was a whole thing if even he was going to cry.

“You’re crying.”, you whispered. “I’m not crying.”, he said instantly. A big fat tear fell down his cheek. “That one doesn’t count.”, he added, “My eyes are just sweating.”

You laughed again, fully this time and he looked like that somehow made him more emotional. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Just held on to each other. A little shaky. A little still disbelieving. Then, very quietly, he said, “We already turned the nursery into a library.” You nodded into his shoulder, “Yeah…I know.”

“What do we do with all these books? I mean…I already read three whole chapters out of the thousands in here.”, he asked. That broke you completely and you snorted, “It’s not like we were ever going to read most of them anyway. Let’s be honest.” He hummed, “Yeah…but I liked being able to at least pretend.”

You were both laughing now messy, relieved, slightly hysterical laughter that didn’t really match the situation but somehow fit it perfectly anyway. When it finally settled, Yoongi rested his forehead against yours. “Are you scared?”, he asked quietly. You thought about it. “Yes.”, you admitted. His grip tightened again, but softer this time. “Me too.”, he said which somehow made you feel better. Then, after a pause, he added, “But…less than I thought I would be.” You smiled. He nodded once, “Because you’re here.”

Eventually, he exhaled slowly. Then, very quietly, he added, “We’re going to be okay, right?” You reached up, wiped his face and smiled through the last of the tears. “Yeah.”, you said. “We’ll always be okay if we have each other.”

And for the first time in a long time, the library didn’t feel like something built out of sadness anymore. It felt like something that was about to grow into something warm and full of love.

You heard movement around eight. Cabinets opening. Coffee brewing. Mina humming softly in the kitchen. Panic jolted through you instantly. You sat up too fast, blanket tangling around your legs just as your bedroom door opened. Yoongi stepped out. Your breath caught automatically. His hair was messy from sleep. Your hoodie hung low on his frame because apparently at some point during the night he had stolen that too.

Mina looked up from the kitchen island. Then froze. Her eyes bounced from Yoongi to you curled on the couch back to Yoongi. Your stomach dropped to your feet. Yoongi looked completely unfazed somehow. “Morning.”, he said hoarsely, walking straight past both of you toward the coffee pot.

That was all he said. You stared at him in disbelief. Mina blinked rapidly, “Ummmmm?” You opened your mouth but nothing came out because what exactly were you supposed to say? “Sorry, your maybe kind of boyfriend drunkenly confessed he’s loved me since high school and fell asleep in my bed while I cried myself to sleep on the couch?” Yoongi poured coffee calmly like this was a normal Tuesday. You wanted to strangle him. To your horror, Mina laughed, “Wow you two must’ve had a rough night.” Yoongi finally glanced at you then. Just briefly and for one stupid hopeful second, you expected something. A look. An acknowledgment. Anything. Instead he looked away immediately. Like last night had never happened. Like he had never said those things. Like you hadn’t spent half the night unraveling because of him. Pain bloomed sharp and immediate in your chest.

You stared at him. Mina continued to laugh. You felt bad for her. She was way too trusting and good-hearted especially for a guy like Yoongi. The vulnerability from last night curdled into humiliation so fast it made you dizzy. You stood abruptly, “I have to go to work.” Mina glanced up, “ It’s Saturday.” You nodded, “Cool. Still leaving.”Yoongi didn’t even look at you. That was the final blow.

The entire day felt wrong after that. Yoongi barely spoke to you once you got home from your “tying up loose ends at the office.”

It was like he was rebuilding the walls between you brick by brick and every single one hurt. You almost wished he’d go back to fighting with you. At least then you knew he felt something. But this? This cold politeness? This avoidance? It made last night feel imagined. By evening your head hurt from overthinking.

So you texted Jungkook: Hey. You busy tonight?

His response came almost immediately: For you? Never.

You stared at the message for a second too long. Then: Can I come over?

Three dots appeared instantly: Yeah. Of course.

You were grabbing your overnight bag when Yoongi finally acknowledged your existence again. “Where are you going?”, his voice came from the kitchen doorway. You didn’t look up, “Out.” He scoffed, “With Jungkook?” You zipped the bag harder than necessary, “Why do you care?”

No answer. You slung the bag over your shoulder. Yoongi’s gaze dropped to it immediately. Recognition flashed across his face.m. Good. Let him stress about it.

You finally looked at him. He was leaning against the doorway in gray sweats and a black shirt again, expression unreadable. But there’s tension in his shoulders now. You smiled without warmth, “Don’t wait up.” The words landed exactly how you intended. Yoongi’s jaw tightened, “Y/N you don’t have to do this.” Your heartbeat stuttered angrily, “Do what?”

“This.”, he motioned at you and the bag. You laughed softly, “Interesting choice of words considering you spent all day pretending I didn’t exist.” His eyes flickered slightly, “I wasn’t pretending.”

“Oh really? Because after last night, I figured maybe you’d have something to say.” The second the words left your mouth, his expression changed. Guarded instantly.

Your stomach sank. He remembered. Every word. Every confession. And he was still acting like this. Humiliation burned hot under your skin. Yoongi looked away first, “You shouldn’t take drunk rambling seriously.” The sentence sliced clean through you. You went completely still. That hurt even worse than if he’d denied it outright. You nodded once slowly, “I see.” He ran a hand through his hair, “That’s not what I meant.” You crossed your arms to hide the shaking in your hands, “Then what did you mean?”

Silence followed. Your eyes stung unexpectedly. You grabbed your keys before he can see it, “Make sure to put on an extra good performance with Mina tonight. She deserves the attention.” His head snapped toward you immediately, “Don’t.”

“Why?”, you asked bitterly, “You said not to take it seriously, right?” You brushed past him before he could answer. But just as you reached the front door his hand caught your wrist. Your breath caught despite yourself. Yoongi’s voice was quieter now, “…Don’t stay there just because of me.” You pulled your hand free carefully, “Don’t think so highly of yourself.”

Weeks passed. The apartment settled into something deceptively calm after the fight. No more jealousy games. No more sharp comments. No more late-night arguments in the kitchen. You and Yoongi simply… stopped trying all together. Which should have felt like relief. Instead it felt like slowly suffocating.

You left before he woke up most mornings. He came home after you were already in bed. When your paths crossed, conversations stayed painfully polite. Even Mina noticed eventually. “You guys are being extra weird lately.”, she said one evening from the couch. You kept scrolling through your phone, “We’ve always been weird.” She shook her head, “No, before you were at least like living together. Now you’re like divorced parents sharing custody.” Yoongi snorted softly from the kitchen. The sound caught you off guard because it used to be your favorite thing in the world making him laugh. You hated that your heart still reacted to him automatically.

Then one afternoon Jin’s wedding invitation arrived and suddenly you were seventeen again. Because Jin wasn’t just a high school friend. He was one of your people. The group was always: Jin. Namjoon. Hoseok. You. Yoongi.

Five idiots practically attached at the hip for years. Which meant one horrifying thing: everyone there was going to know or at least suspect something was wrong.

You considered not going. Then Jin personally called you and said, “If you miss my wedding, I’ll haunt you and not the opening cabinets and making curtains move kind of haunt. I’ll haunt you to the point they make a low budget movie about it one day.”

So now you were standing in front of a mirror a couple months later trying not to throw up from anxiety while Jungkook fixed his tie behind you.“You okay?”, he asked gently. You laughed, “Define okay.” Jungkook smiled softly and stepped closer, hands settling on your waist, “You know we can leave anytime if it gets weird, right?” Your chest tightened unexpectedly. Because Jungkook had always been careful with you. Patient. Kind. Even after realizing there was clearly something unresolved between you and Yoongi and that he was risking becoming an innocent casualty. Part of you knew he deserved better than this. The other part selfishly clung to him anyway.

“You look beautiful by the way.”, he said quietly. You smiled despite yourself, “ You clean up pretty nice too.”

The wedding venue was gorgeous. Warm lights. Soft music. Flowers everywhere. And for the first ten minutes of the reception, everything was fine. Then Hoseok hugged you too tightly and said, “I genuinely thought you and Yoongi would beat any of us to the altar.” You nearly choked on air. Namjoon, the traitor that he was, laughed loudly, “Right? You two were disgustingly inevitable back then.”

“Oh my God.”, you muttered. Jungkook’s hand settled lightly against your back. Yoongi noticed immediately. Jin appeared beside you grinning, “Remember when Yoongi punched that guy sophomore year because he flirted with you a little too hard?”

“I did not punch him.”, Yoongi said flatly across from you. “You absolutely did.”, Namjoon laughed. Yoongi scoffed, “He just…accidentally walked into my fist.” Your stomach flipped unexpectedly. Mina blinked, “Wait. What?”

“Nothing.”, you said too quickly. Unfortunately, everyone started talking at once.

“Yoongi used to follow her around like a guard dog.”

“You guys literally acted married since we were like twelve.”

“My mom still asks if you ended up together.”

“Okay!”, you interrupted loudly, “Wow. Love this. Super fun.” Yoongi looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. Which honestly helped you feel a little better. Until Jin sighed dreamily and said, “Man…we really thought you two were it for each other.” Your chest tightened painfully because for a second you remembered thinking that too. You began to walk away abruptly, “I need a drink.”

By your fourth champagne flute, your body started protesting. But emotionally? You needed the numbness. You wanted more.

You danced with Jungkook because it was easier than thinking. Because he spun you around and made you laugh and kissed your temple when you nearly tripped. Because every time you glanced toward Yoongi, he was already looking at you and you knew you couldn’t survive that sober.

The room grew warmer as the night stretched on. Music pounding. Lights blurring. Your heartbeat uneven. “You okay?”, Jungkook asked again, hands steadying your waist as you swayed. You nodded too fast, “Mmmhmmm.” Your vision swam slightly. You realized vaguely that you hadn’t had actual water in hours and were surviving on a few bites of your salmon from dinner.

The dance floor suddenly tilted underneath you. “Hey Y/N.”, Jungkook said immediately, concern sharpening, “Sit down for a second.”

“I’m fine…”, you tried to respond but then the world went black. Voices pulled you back first. Muffled. Panicked. Cold water splashed your face. You gasped sharply, eyes flying open. The ceiling spun above you. Your head was pounding. “There she is!”, Mina said frantically. You blinked blearily. You were lying on a bench near the reception hall entrance. Mina kneeled beside you holding napkins.

And ten feet away Yoongi and Jungkook were actively arguing. “No, because where the hell were you?”, Yoongi snapped. Jungkook looked furious, ”I’ve been with her the whole time.”

“Then why did she pass out?!”

“At least I was there to catch her!”

“You shouldn’t have let her drink that much!”, Yoongi shouted taking a step closer.

“Oh, fuck off.”, Jungkook spat back. The two of them looked like they were about to get physical.

Your pounding headache worsened instantly. You pushed yourself upright slowly. Immediately both men stopped arguing and rushed toward you at the exact same time. The synchronized movement would almost have been funny if you hadn’t felt like death.

“You okay?”

“How do you feel?”

They glared at each other instantly after speaking.

“I’m alive.”, you mumbled. Yoongi crouched in front of you immediately, eyes scanning your face with open worry. Raw worry. The kind he had tried hiding for weeks, “You scared the shit out of me.”

Your chest tightened unexpectedly and if you had more energy you would’ve snapped back something spiteful. Jungkook handed you water carefully, “Drink this slowly.”

“Thank you.”, you nodded and took a sip of the cool water. Yoongi’s hand lightly steadied your knee while you drank. The contact burned. And judging by the look on Jungkook’s face you weren’t the only one to feel like that. “I’ll take you home.”, he said holding out a hand for you. “No.”, Yoongi said immediately.

The word landed like a gunshot. Silence rippled through the small group. Jungkook blinked once. Then laughed, “No?” Yoongi stood, “I’ll take her home.” Your stomach dropped, “Guys…”

“No.”, Jungkook’s eyes never left Yoongi, “I actually want to hear this.” Yoongi’s jaw tightened and his expression darkened. For a moment he didn’t answer. Then quietly he said, “I know what’s best for her.” Jungkook stared at him. Disbelief slowly turning into anger, “Oh, that’s rich.”

“Jungkook.”, you tried but he cut you off. “No Seriously.”, he laughed again, but there was nothing amused about it, “You spend months acting like you don’t want her in your life and suddenly you’re concerned?” Yoongi’s scoffed, “I never said that.” The room had gone completely silent now. Even the music from the reception felt distant. Jungkook took a step forward, “You don’t get to pick and choose when she matters to you.” Your breath caught. You saw it hit Yoongi too. Saw the guilt flicker across his face. Saw him look away for half a second.

Jungkook wasn’t finished, “You don’t get to push her away when you’re scared and then come running back the second someone else is there instead.”

“That’s not what happened.”, Yoongi grumbled. Jungkook took a step closer to him, “Really?” The two of them were nearly chest to chest now. Mina looked horrified. Namjoon looked like he was trying to decide when to step in. Hoseok looked seconds away from running. Yoongi’s voice dropped lower, “You don’t know anything about us.” Jungkook smiled coldly, “No. But I know she cries because of you…a lot more than you deserve.”

That one hit even harder. Yoongi went completely still. The expression on his face made your chest ache because for the first time all night he looked hurt. Not angry. Not jealous. Just hurt. And suddenly you couldn’t stand any of it anymore, “Stop.” Both of them looked at you. You pushed yourself to your feet. The room tilted slightly. Jungkook steadied you. Yoongi instinctively reached for you too. The movement happened at exactly the same time. You laughed once. A tired, broken little sound, “I’m not a prize for either of you to win.” Neither man spoke.

The guilt on Jungkook’s face appeared instantly. Yoongi looked like he’d been punched. You swallowed hard. Then turned toward Jungkook, “Can you take me home?” Shock flashed across nearly every face around you. Including Jungkook’s. Including Yoongi’s. Especially Yoongi’s. For a second he just stared like he genuinely believed you were going to choose him. Like some part of him had expected it. Jungkook carefully took your hand, “Yeah of course. Let’s go.”

The room remained silent as you started walking. You made it almost to the exit before hearing Yoongi behind you, “Y/N.” You froze. The entire reception seemed to freeze with you. You turned slowly. Yoongi stood exactly where you’d left him. Looking wrecked. Looking desperate. Looking like there were a thousand things he wanted to say. But for once he was too late and you turned and kept walking towards the exit.

The next morning felt like you were being punished. Your head throbbed. Your mouth tasted awful. And every time you closed your eyes you saw Yoongi standing at there watching you leave with Jungkook. You groaned and buried your face deeper into your pillow. The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet. Mina had already left for work. You dragged yourself out of bed and shuffled toward the kitchen. The smell hit you first. Blueberries. Butter. Maple syrup. You froze. Because there was only one person in the world who knew you loved blueberry pancakes like that.

Yoongi stood at the stove. Hair messy. Shoulders tense. A plate already waiting on the counter. For a second neither of you spoke. Then he set the spatula down, “You need to eat.” Something inside you snapped. You laughed, “Seriously?” Yoongi frowned, “You passed out last night. You need food to recuperate.”

“Oh my God.”, you laughed. You stared at the pancakes. At the blueberries arranged exactly how you liked them so there each bite had the perfect amount. At the glass of water beside the plate. At the aspirin. Every tiny thing he remembered. Every tiny thing he still knew. And suddenly you were furious, “You don’t get to do this Yoongi.” His expression tightened, “Do what?”

“This.”, you pointed at the counter, “The pancakes. The worrying. The acting like you care.” His jaw flexed, “I do care.” The words only made it worse. You laughed again, “You wouldn’t have left. I spent years wondering what I did wrong.” Yoongi looked away, “You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why wasn’t I enough for you?”, the question slipped out before you could stop it. Both of you froze. Your eyes immediately filled with tears. You hand ‘t meant to say that. You hadn’t meant to let him see you cry. But it was too late because suddenly all the hurt was pouring out.

“I hated you.”, your voice shook and trees slipped down your cheek, “I hated you every birthday. Every graduation. Every time something good happened and I still looked for you but you weren’t there.” Yoongi didn’t move. You continued, “Once I found out you were still alive I kept thinking maybe you’d call. Maybe you’d come back. Maybe I mattered enough. You broke my heart.”

The words landed between you. For a long moment neither of you spoke. Then Yoongi quietly sat down across from you and listened. You told him everything. About the loneliness. The abandonment. The years spent wondering. The resentment. The jealousy. The hurt. All of it. Every ugly piece. You shouted. You called him names. And the entire time Yoongi just sat there taking it. Not defending himself. Not arguing. Not interrupting. Just listening.

Eventually your voice gave out. The apartment fell silent. You were exhausted. Yoongi stared at the table for a long time. Then he nodded once like he’d finally accepted a sentence he’d been expecting for years, “Okay.” You blinked, “What?”He stood. The chair scraped softly against the floor, “I deserve all of that.”

Something about those words felt wrong. Your stomach dropped, “Yoongi…” But he was already walking away. He paused at the hallway. Still facing away from you. His voice sounded tired, “Y/N…I’m sorry I wasn’t who you needed me to be.”Then he disappeared into his room. The door clicked shut and that hurt more than if he’d yelled.

The next two weeks that followed were filled with tension and exhaustion. It was a Monday when you got home from work beyond worn out. Rain soaked through your jacket. Your feet hurt and all you wanted was greasy takeout and sleep. You pushed open the apartment door. Immediately something felt wrong. You took a few steps in and called out, “Mina?”

No answer. You stepped farther inside. Then stopped. Mina sat curled on the couch. Crying. Your heart dropped. She looked up finally. Eyes red. Face pale. For a second she couldn’t even speak. Then she held up an envelope. Your stomach twisted.

Because you recognized the handwriting instantly.

Yoongi.

“No.”, the word escaped before you could stop it. Mina started crying harder, “He…he left.” The world tilted, “What?” She held up the letter, “Yoongi…he left.” Your pulse thundered in your ears. He continued, “He packed everything while we were at work.” Mina handed you the letter with shaking hands, “He didn’t tell me. Why would he just leave like this?” You couldn’t breathe, “What do you mean he left?” Mina wiped her face, “He quit his job. Said he got a job offer in another country. He said he needed a fresh start.” She began crying harder all over again.

No.

No.

No.

This wasn’t happening. Not again. You turned before Mina could see your face.

Then you walked down the hallway. One step. Then another. Then another. You peaked inside Mina’s room and all that was left were her things. His pile of clothes were gone. No basketball. No guitar. Nothing. Like he’d never existed there at all. Your vision blurred. Slowly you turned toward your room and froze.

A folded letter sat neatly in the center of your bed with your name written across the front. In Yoongi’s handwriting.

The handwriting you’d recognize anywhere.

Your hands started shaking before you even picked it up because before reading a single word you already knew it was goodbye.

A bigger part of you feared that it was going to be forever this time.

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You closed the apartment door softly behind you hoping everyone was still asleep. Then you heard it, “You’re finally home.”

Your eyes closed briefly. Of course. Yoongi sat alone at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee in his hands. Gray sweatpants. Black t-shirt that was two sizes too big. Messy hair. No glasses yet. He looked unfairly attractive for someone currently ruining your Saturday morning just by existing.

His gaze dropped immediately to the oversized hoodie swallowing your body. His expression hardened almost immediately because he knew who it belonged to thanks to the motorcycle brand plastered on the front.

You walked past him toward your room. “That his?”, he said. You stopped. You looked down at the hoodie innocently, “What? This old thing?” Yoongi stared at you. You could practically see him grinding his teeth, “Did you stay over there all night?”

You shrugged casually even though your pulse had started kicking harder, “Why do you want to know?”

“Answer the question.”, he replied back irritation clear. You turned slowly, “Are you my father?…You don’t get to ask me questions like that.” His jaw flexed, “You barely know him.” Your anger flared, “And? I’m an adult and can make choices for myself.

“And guys don’t invite girls over at midnight just to talk.”, he spat back. You almost laughed at the hypocrisy, “Oh…like you have any room to talk.” You leaned against the counter, deliberately calm, “Nothing happened, not that it’s any of your business.” Something in his face loosened instantly before he caught himself but it was too late. You saw it and suddenly this became fun. Cruel maybe but fun.

“Disappointed?”, you asked sweetly. He shook his head, “I didn’t say that.” You smirked, “You didn’t have to. Your eyes are still more expressive than you want them to be.” Yoongi stood abruptly, his coffee abandoned on the counter. The movement startled you a little. He walked closer. Not touching. Just close enough to make your breathing uneven, “You think this is funny?”

“No.”, you said quietly, “I think you lost the right to care where and who I spend my nights with…but you’re not willing to admit that.”

That landed exactly where you wanted it to. His expression twisted. Good. You’ve spent years hurting because of him. He could survive five uncomfortable minutes because of you.

Yoongi looked down at the sleeves hanging past your hands, “You’re wearing his clothes to make me mad?” You laughed, “Believe it or not, my world no longer revolves around you.”

“Could’ve fooled me last night. Isn’t that why you ran out of here and right into his bed?”, the accusation slipped out before he could stop it. Your eyebrows shot up, “You knew that I’d interrupt your weird porn star performance. What did you expect?” His face changed instantly, “I didn’t know you’d hear that.” You laughed louder this time, “Oh please. You made sure I did.”

Silence. Yoongi looked away first, which told you everything. Your chest ached unexpectedly because that hurt worse. Not him sleeping with Mina, but the idea that he wanted to hurt you. You swallowed hard, “That was low.” His voice came rough, “Watching you leave with him wasn’t exactly fun either.”

You stared at each other and there it was again, that awful magnetic pull. The anger between you had become something else now. Hotter. Meaner. More dangerous. A war and maybe the worst part was, you were both enjoying it a little more than oh should.

Yoongi stepped closer again until your back touched the counter edge. Your pulse stuttered.“You really stayed there all night…with him?”, he asked. You lifted your chin stubbornly, “Yep.” His eyes darkened slightly, “Were you trying to make me jealous?” The question hung between you. You should have said no but instead you asked, “Is it working?” For one suspended second, neither of you moved. Then Yoongi laughed quietly. Not amused. Not happy. The sound was rough around the edges. “Careful Y/N.”, he murmured. Your heartbeat kicked harder, “With what?” His gaze dragged slowly over Jungkook’s hoodie one more time before returning to your face, “With whatever…this is. You wouldn’t want to hurt Jungkook.” The AUDACITY of this man to throw that back in your face

The apartment suddenly felt dangerously small. And then, a bedroom door opened down the hall. Both of you jumped apart so fast it was almost embarrassing. Mina walked out rubbing her eyes. She stopped immediately. She looked at you. She looked at Yoongi. She looked at the tension practically vibrating in the air. Then slowly she said, “…Did I miss something?” You grabbed a banana off the counter and walked towards the hallway, “Nope.” Yoongi drained the rest of his coffee in one swallow, “Absolutely not.”

By the fifth week of living together, the apartment had become a battlefield disguised as domestic life. You and Yoongi argued over everything now. The thermostat. Dirty dishes. Music volume. Who forgot to buy coffee filters. But the arguments never felt like they were actually about those things. There was too much underneath them. Too much history. Too much tension. Too much wanting mixed with anger. And somehow Mina still hadn’t figured it out which honestly deserved scientific study at this point.

“You two are sooo much better lately.”, she said cheerfully one Saturday night while putting on lip gloss by the front door before you went on a “double date”. You nearly choked. Yoongi, sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone, just muttered, “Yeah…Totally.” You snorted. Mina pointed at both of you, “See? You’re joking together now.”

“We’re not joking.”, you and Yoongi said simultaneously. Jungkook burst out laughing from beside you because he had become permanently attached to your side these days. Coffee runs before work. Late-night phone calls. Random errands together. Inside jokes. Nothing official yet, but close enough to drive Yoongi insane.

Which…fine. Maybe a tiny part of you enjoyed that. Just a little…or a lot.

The bowling alley was loud, neon-lit, and packed. Mina disappeared toward the bar almost immediately after you arrived, dragging Yoongi with her. You and Jungkook ended up claiming the lane to begin bowling.

“You’re weirdly competitive.”, Jungkook accused as you lined up your shot a few rounds in. You responded with an eye roll, “I just…take it seriously.”

“You were mean mugging an eight-year-old for celebrating too loudly and disrupting your throw.”, Jungkook laughed again. He laughed so easily and freely and you loved it. You were focused as you stepped forward to throw the ball when suddenly hands grabbed your hips from behind. You shrieked. The bowling ball flew completely sideways into the gutter. Jungkook cackled behind you, “Got you!”

“You asshole!”, you gasped, spinning around to smack his arm while laughing. His hands were still loosely on your waist. “You should’ve seen your face!”, he giggled. Both of you were still laughing when you noticed it. Across the lane, Yoongi was now sitting stiffly in one of the plastic seats, his eyes locked directly on Jungkook’s hands on your hips. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw looked tight enough to crack.

Jungkook finally let go of you, still grinning, “Your turn again. You can still get a spare but it’s gonna take some major skill.” You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. Then Yoongi suddenly grabbed Mina by the wrist and pulled her directly onto his lap. Your smile faltered immediately. Mina squealed, “Yoongi behave!”

“What? You just look extra cute today.,” he said casually, though his eyes never left yours. His hand settled possessively on her thigh. Heat flashed through your chest. Fine. Two could play this game. You turned back to Jungkook with forced brightness, “Teach me how to throw it properly since you’re such an expert.” Jungkook stepped behind you instantly, reaching around carefully to adjust your grip. His body was close. Yoongi’s expression darkened another shade. Petty satisfaction bloomed warm in your stomach. This was toxic. Very deeply unhealthy and yet, you couldn’t stop it.

Mina, blissfully unaware of the emotional warfare happening across the bowling lane, waved at you excitedly from Yoongi’s lap, “Take a picture together!” You almost laughed at the absurdity. Jungkook grinned beside you, “C’mere beautiful.” His arm slipped around your waist for the photo. The camera flashed and from the corner of your eye, you caught Yoongi staring at you like he wanted to set the entire building on fire.

An hour later, you were all sat at a corner table as Jungkook returned from the snack counter balancing fries, nachos, and drinks. “I come bearing gifts.”, he announced proudly. “Marry me.”, you said immediately without thinking an shoved a fry into your mouth. Yoongi’s head snapped up so fast it was almost comical. Jungkook handed you a beer with a grin, “For the bowling champion.”

You took it automatically. Then, “She doesn’t like beer.” The words cut cleanly through the noise. Everyone paused. Yoongi leaned back in his chair, his expression neutral. “You hate the taste.”, he continued, “You always said it tastes like bread someone left outside to rot.” Silence settled awkwardly around the table. Because it was true. Exactly true. Your stomach twisted unexpectedly at the reminder of all the tiny things he still remembered. Jungkook looked between the two of you, “Oh…Sorry, I can grab you something else.”

“No.”, you said quickly. Your eyes locked onto Yoongi’s, “It’s fine.” Then deliberately, you lifted the beer and took a sip. It tasted exactly as awful as you remembered. Jungkook laughed when your face immediately scrunched up against your will, “Okay, wow, you really do hate it.”, he smiled. Mina giggled too. But Yoongi didn’t laugh. He was still watching you. Quiet and intense. He knew exactly why you drank it anyway and he hated it. You held his gaze while taking another sip. Pure spite. His eyes narrowed slightly. Message received. The war only intensified after that.

The apartment was quiet when your bedroom door creaked open on a Thursday night a couple weeks later. You didn’t look up immediately. You were sitting cross-legged on your bed in oversized pajamas, your laptop open and some new drama playing but forgotten. You were still annoyed from something Yoongi had said earlier.

“Go away.”, you muttered automatically when you saw him. No response. Just the sound of the door shutting softly. You sighed, “Yoongi I’m serious, I don’t have the energy to fight with you toni…”

He took a step and then stumbled. Your head snapped up instantly. Yoongi caught himself against your dresser with a quiet curse and immediately you smelled it. The strong familiar scent of liquor. Your irritation vanished into concern so fast it made you angry at yourself. Yoongi squinted at you from across the room, “Why’re there two of you?” You climbed off the bed, “How much did you drink?”

“I’m still conscious so…not enough.”, he chuckled in a way that almost hurt your heart and that answer alone told you something was wrong. Yoongi wasn’t usually a messy drunk. If anything, he got quieter when he drank too much. It was only when he was really hurting about something did he let it get to this point. And tonight he looked unraveled. Cheeks flushed. Hair falling into his glassy eyes. An oversized black hoodie half slipping off one shoulder. Your chest tightened even though you didn’t want it to.

“You need water.”, you said gently. He shook his head, “No…I need you to stop dating tattoo boy.” You blinked, “…Tattoo boy?”

“Jungkook.”, he said the name like he was chewing glass. Despite yourself, a laugh slipped out. Yoongi pointed at you accusingly, “Don’t laugh.” You in fact continued to laugh, “You called him tattoo boy.” Yoongi whined, “He has too many tattoos.” You corrected him, “You have tattoos.” He scoffed, “Mine are tasteful.” You snorted, “You have a cat playing basketball with a tangerine on your bicep and you let Jimin tattoo a crooked smiley face on your butt cheek after a drunken night in college. I wouldn’t exactly call those tasteful.”

Yoongi swayed slightly where he stood, “He thinks he’s soooooo cool with his stupid tattoos and stupid motorcycle and extra stupid muscles. I mean he flexed while bowling.” You laughed out loud, “He had to pick up a bowling ball.” Yoongi pointed at you accusingly, “Exactly. Why did that require a flex? It’s bowling. Old people and kids do it.”

Another laugh escaped you before you could stop it. And suddenly Yoongi’s expression softened. The kind of look you hadn’t seen in years. “There it is.”, he murmured. Your smile faltered slightly, “What?” He looked like he might cry, “That laugh. I missed being the one to make you do it.” Your stomach twisted painfully. You looked away first, “Okay. You need to go to bed before Mina sees you like this.” At Mina’s name, something strange flickered across his face. Almost guilt. Almost irritation. You moved toward him carefully, “Come on.”

Yoongi let you guide him out of your room surprisingly easily at first, until you reached the hallway. Then suddenly his hand caught your wrist, his warm fingers wrapping gently around you, “I don’t wanna sleep in there.” You glanced toward Mina’s closed bedroom door, “Too bad. You created this life for yourself.” He stood firm, “Y/N I wanna stay with you.” Your heart stumbled, “No.”

“Please.”, the word came out quiet. Soft. So unlike him that it nearly undid you. You exhaled shakily, “Yoongi…”

“I miss being able to be close to you.”, he whispered this time as a tear fell down his cheek. There it was again, that unbearable honesty drunk people spilled accidentally. You should have pushed him away. You should have absolutely pushed him away and shut him out. Instead, five minutes later, he was in your bed and you hated yourself a little for it.

To be fair, he was fully clothed, facing the opposite direction, and halfway unconscious already. You had only agreed because you couldn’t risk Mina seeing him like this and asking questions neither of you were ready to answer. That was all. That was what you kept telling yourself anyway. Your room was dark except for the dim streetlights glowing through your curtains. Yoongi lay beside you on top of the blankets, his breathing slow and uneven and this felt too familiar. Too intimate. Too much like before. Your throat tightened unexpectedly as memories began creeping in without permission.

High school. Seventeen and just about to graduate. The middle of the night. Rain hitting your bedroom window when you heard pebbles tapping against the glass. You had opened it to find Yoongi down below, drunk and heartbroken after a bad fight with his father.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”, he had slurred, “You’re the only person always there for me.” You had snuck him inside, terrified your parents would wake up. He curled beside you in bed wearing one of your hoodies while you whispered nonsense until he fell asleep. And sometime around 3 a.m., staring at his face in the dark, you realized you loved him. Not just a crush. Not just friendship. Love. Real, terrifying, irreversible love.

The memory hit so hard your eyes stung suddenly. Beside you, present-day Yoongi shifted closer in his sleep. Your chest ached. Because this version felt like a ghost of that one, close enough to touch, but too far away to keep.

You blinked hard against the tears gathering in your eyes. You’d had enough and this was a mistake. You turned slightly toward him, ready to wake him up and tell him to go to his own room. Then quietly you heard him mumble something that sounded like, “So unfair.” Your breath caught. Yoongi’s eyes were still closed but he was talking anyway. “What is?”, you whispered before you could stop yourself even though you knew better.

His voice came rough with sleep, “That night.” Your heartbeat stopped. “The night you snuck me into your room after that fight I had with my dad.”, he continued. Every muscle in your body locked. Yoongi swallowed hard against the pillow, “That’s when I knew.” Your eyes burned instantly, “Knew what?” Silence lasted so long you thought maybe he had drifted off again. Then, “That I loved you Y/N.”

The room tilted. You genuinely felt sick for a second. Because all these years, all this time, you thought you were alone in that memory when in reality he had experienced the same thing at the same exact moment. You stared at him in the dark, tears finally slipping free despite your effort to stop them.

Yoongi kept talking softly, his words slurred with exhaustion, “You were wearing those stupid bunny pajamas and you smelled like that vanilla body lotion you always used. It always made me want a cupcake.” A broken laugh escaped you through your tears. He continued, “You kept touching my hair cause you thought it calmed me down…” It had. It always had. Yoongi’s breathing evened out slowly after that as he fell asleep like it felt good to finally get that off his chest. He was completely unaware he had just cracked your entire heart open.

You stared at the ceiling for another minutes.Then two. Then five. Then finally you slid out of bed because staying beside him hurt too much. You grabbed a blanket from the closet and quietly left the room, pausing only once at the doorway. Yoongi was curled slightly toward your side of the bed even in sleep like muscle memory still remembered you.

Your chest ached violently. Tomorrow morning was going to be a disaster. You already knew it. Especially when you had to explain to Mina why her boyfriend was asleep in your bed while you were curled miserably on the couch trying not to cry.

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You glared at him. He looked exhausted but still good. Dark hoodie. Ripped jeans. Dark hair longer than the last time you saw him. He still wore too many rings on his fingers. But he had faint shadows beneath his eyes and looked thinner than you remembered.

He used to text you every stupid thought he had even at 2 a.m. Now he couldn’t even look at you properly. Mina laughed nervously, “Okay…weird energy going on here.”

“You think?”, you muttered. Yoongi exhaled slowly, “I can stay somewhere else.” Something sharp twisted in your stomach at how easily he said it. Like leaving again would be simple. Like it would solve everything. Like you didn’t still remember standing outside his apartment in the rain after he vanished from your life because you were terrified something horrible had happened to him. Like you didn’t spend months grieving someone who was still alive.

Mina looked between the two of you, “Hold on…did something happen between you two? Yoongi’s jaw tightened. You set the groceries down harder than necessary, “Ask your boyfriend.” The title sounded poisonous coming out of your mouth. His eyes flashed at that. Good. You hoped it would hurt him. Mina’s voice softened carefully, “Did you guys date?” “No.”, you said immediately. Yoongi said nothing and that felt worse.

You successfully avoided him for the next few hours. Then you walked into the kitchen at midnight wearing old sleep shorts and one of your oversized college hoodies only to find him standing barefoot at the stove making ramen. The sight hit you so hard it nearly stole your breath. Because this…this used to be your normal.

Late nights. Shared meals. Comfortable silence. Him handing you the first bite without even asking. Home.

Yoongi glanced over his shoulder. His gaze caught on your bare legs for half a second before he looked away. “You still hate mushrooms?”, he asked quietly. You crossed your arms, “You still disappear when things get difficult?”

The kitchen went still. Rain tapped softly against the apartment windows. Yoongi turned the stove off, “I deserved that.” You laughed once. Bitter, “That’s all you have to say?”

“No.”, he shook his head. You scoffed, “Then explain it.” He dragged a hand through his hair, visibly tired, “Not tonight Y/N.”

You remembered sleeping on his shoulder during train rides, him carrying your drunk self home once without complaining, the way everyone always assumed you were together, the night he almost kissed you on your apartment fire escape as you watched the New Year’s Eve fireworks explode over the city. The night everything changed.

You leaned against the counter, heart pounding too hard, “You know what the worst part was?” Yoongi stayed silent. “I thought you died.”, you said trying to steady your voice, “Or got seriously hurt. Or that…you hated me.” That finally broke him. His eyes closed briefly and for the first time since he walked back into your life, he looked genuinely wrecked.

“I know.”, he said softly. Your throat tightened against your will, “I called your parents. I called your brother. I even called your ex. No one would tell me where you were or what happened. You don’t get to come back now and act normal.” He shook his head, “I’m not trying to.”

“Then what are you trying to do?”, you asked. His gaze lifted to yours slowly, “I didn’t know if you’d still look at me the same after what happened. I couldn’t stand the thought of it.” Your chest ached because despite everything, Despite the anger and humiliation and heartbreak…You still did. That was the problem. You hated that part most.

Mina broke the tension by stumbling into the kitchen half asleep looking for water. You stepped away from Yoongi so fast it was almost embarrassing. His mouth twitched when he noticed. “Why are you guys awake?”, Mina yawned. You and Yoongi remained silent. She squinted at both of you, “Okay…whatever weird ex fuckbuddy energy this is, can you save it for daylight?”

You nearly choked. Yoongi coughed into his fist to hide a laugh. And for one awful second, it felt normal again. Like the old days when you and him used to share secret looks across crowded rooms because nobody else understood your humor. Then Mina shuffled back to bed and reality settled over the apartment again. You pointed at the ramen pot you hadn’t seen in years, “You stole my favorite pot.”

“You used to steal my hoodies.”, he responded. You laughed, “I gave those back.” He disagreed, “No, you absolutely didn’t. Not all of them.” You opened your mouth to argue, then stopped because you still had one. Folded in the back of your closet. The black Chicago Bulls one with paint stains on the sleeve from the time he helped you paint the kitchen in your first apartment.

Yoongi watched realization cross your face. Slowly, one eyebrow lifted. Heat crept up your neck, “Don’t.”

“You still have it?”, he smirked. You rolled your eyes, “Shut up.” His laugh was quiet. It slipped under your ribs too easily. You hated that your body still remembered him. The cadence of his voice. The way his shoulders shook slightly when he laughed for real. The way he always looked at you like you were the only thing worth listening to. That was all before he disappeared.

Your expression hardened again. The shift was instant enough that his smile faded. “You still haven’t answered me.”, you crossed your arms again. Yoongi looked down at the stove. Silence stretched. Rain kept tapping against the windows. Finally, he said quietly, “My dad got sick.”

You blinked. That was not what you expected at all. He continued, “He collapsed at work. Cardiac arrest. Spent a few weeks in the intensive care. Nearly died twice. My mom got so stressed out she ended up in the hospital too. Debt piled up. They almost lost their apartment. Everything happened at once and it was all on me to fix. I was stressed. I got really depressed. I was drinking more than I should’ve. I wasn’t eating or sleeping.”

Some of the anger inside you faltered. But only some, “That doesn’t explain ghosting me.” His jaw tightened, “Y/N I was drowning.” That angered you, “So you decided to drown alone?”

“I decided…”, He stopped himself hard enough that you noticed. He lowered his voice, “I didn’t think I could be what you needed anymore. You were getting close to graduating. You had a new job lined up and you were talking to that guy. I knew you’d drop everything for me and I didn’t want to become a burden to you…so I left and went to stay with a friend for a while until I could get my shit back in order.”

Your stomach twisted, “That wasn't your decision to make.” He took a deep breath, “Yeah…I know that now.” The honesty caught you off guard. Yoongi was always terrible at talking about himself especially when it came to his feelings. He used to disappear for days whenever life got a little tough, then show back up pretending nothing happened but never like this, never to this extent.

You stared at him, “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”His eyes finally met yours because he still knew when you were asking the real question underneath.

Why didn’t you trust me?

Why wasn’t I worth staying for?

Yoongi’s voice came out rough, “Because I was embarrassed that I wasn’t mentally strong enough and…I’m always worried about going down that path again…I never wanted you to see me like that…Because I was in love with you.”

The apartment went completely silent. Every muscle in your body locked. He looked horrified immediately after saying it aloud, like the confession escaped by accident. All those almost moments suddenly rearranged themselves into something unbearable.

The fire escape.

The lingering touches.

The jealousy neither of you acknowledged.

The way he looked at every guy you dated like he was trying not to murder them.

Your heart pounded so hard you felt sick. Yoongi laughed once under his breath, miserable, “There…happy now?”

“No.”, you whispered, “You disappeared anyway. You left me alone. Do you know how many nights I cried myself to sleep because of you? How many events were ruined because all I could think about was you and how I wanted you there with me?”

That landed with him. You saw it. The guilt. The regret. The self-loathing he’s probably carried for years. But it didn’t magically fix you. Because loving someone and abandoning them can’t exist in the same sentence.

Yoongi rubbed his hand over his mouth, “Y/N I thought if I stayed close to you, eventually I’d ruin you too.”

“You ruined me by leaving.”, you said. The words came out sharper than intended. He flinched and you hated that too. Because even now, part of you wanted to take it back. You turned away before he could see your eyes getting glossy, “Go to sleep, Yoongi. You get headaches when you stay up too late.”

“Y/N…I missed you every day.”, he said so quietly you almost didn’t hear it.

Your body physically ached. You gripped the edge of the counter harder. You didn’t look at him because if you looked at him right now, you might forgive him too soon. And he hadn’t earned that yet. Instead you walked away and shut your door a little harder than necessary.

After that night, living with Yoongi became a game of strategic avoidance. A stupid, exhausting, painful game.

You learned his routines within a week despite trying not to. He left for work early. Came home late. Fell asleep on the couch sometimes with his glasses crooked on his face.

And worst of all was that he acted normal. Not fully normal. Not warm. Not cold. Just carefully there like he was trying not to push you too hard. Which irritated you more because every now and then you still caught him looking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention and there was still something heartbreakingly familiar in it.

Then Mina kissed him goodbye in front of you one morning and you remembered exactly why you should hate him. So you settled into a rhythm. Short answers. Minimal eye contact. Passive aggressive sticky notes on the fridge instead of talking it out like adults.

At one point Mina laughed so hard she snorted and said, “You two are literally like an old married couple.” Neither of you responded. Which said enough.

*

The thing with Jungkook started because he was easy in a good way. Easy to talk to. Easy to laugh with. Easy on the eyes. Easy in the way Yoongi never was.

You both worked at the same law firm. You were a paralegal and he worked in marketing. You flirted shamelessly and he had asked you out three times before you finally said yes. Mostly because you were tired of feeling stuck. Partially because a small and admittedly ugly part of you wondered what Yoongi would do if and when he found out.

Your answer came on Friday night. You were standing in front of the bathroom mirror fixing your earrings when the door knocked once. “Occupied.”, you called. You opened the door a few moments later. Yoongi stopped when he saw you and for a second he just stared. You suddenly became hyperaware of everything, the little black dress hugging your body, the expensive and only for special occasions perfume on your neck, the heels you almost never wore.

Yoongi looked unfairly good himself in a dark long sleeve shirt and loose sweatpants, hair damp from a shower earlier. His eyes dragged over you once before he stopped himself. Something tight flashed across his face. You crossed your arms, “What?”

“Nothing.”, he shook his head. “Then why are you standing there like you saw a ghost?”, you angrily asked him. His jaw ticked, “You just…look nice.” The compliment landed with dangerous softness. You hated that your stomach flipped anyway, “…Thanks.”

Silence followed. Then he asked, “Where are you going?” You shrugged like it didn’t mean anything, “A date.” Then you saw it. The shift. His expression smoothed too quickly to be natural, “With who?” You leaned against the sink casually, “Jungkook.”

“The guy from work?”, he questioned almost comically. You raised an eyebrow, “You know about Jungkook?” Yoongi tried to act casual, “Mina talks.” You almost smiled, “Well, he’s picking me up in ten.” Yoongi nodded once slowly. Then another pause, “…Do you know him well?” You blinked, “Excuse me?” He shrugged, “I’m just asking because guys can be weirdos.” A laugh escaped you before you can stop it, “You do not get to act protective right now.” His eyes narrowed slightly, “I’m not acting like anything.”

“You vanished for years and now suddenly you care who picks me up?”, you laughed harder this time. “That’s not…”, he tried but you cut him off, “And you’re dating my roommate so you have no right to worry about me any more.” The words hit clean. Sharp. Yoongi went quiet instantly. Because neither of you had actually talked about it. Not really or in a way you should have. You swallowed past the sudden tightness in your throat, “So let’s not start this.”

For a moment he just looked at you then quietly, “I’m not dating Mina.” Your heart stuttered, “What?…She called you her boyfriend.” Yoongi rubbed a hand over his face like he was exhausted suddenly, “Mina and I hook up sometimes. It’s…she keeps calling it more than that but it’s never been made official and I’m not sure what I want so I’ve just been going with it for now.” You stared at him.

Something ugly and hopeful sparked in your chest before you crushed it immediately, “Well…that still makes this none of your business…and…maybe you should figure that out before you hurt her too.” Yoongi nodded like he already knew he was walking down a dangerous path with that.

A knock sounded at the front door. Jungkook. Yoongi’s whole body visibly stiffened. Petty satisfaction curled warm in your stomach. You brushed past him before he could say anything else.

Jungkook stood outside holding flowers. Yoongi was the only other guy to ever buy you flowers. “Wow Y/N.”, he said the second he saw you, “You look…wow.” You laughed softly, “You already said wow.”

“I know. I panicked. Words are really hard right now.”, he embarrassedly chuckled. Then Yoongi appeared behind you and the entire mood changed. Jungkook straightened slightly. Yoongi leaned against the doorway with crossed arms, expression unreadable, “So…you’re Jungkook.” Jungkook blinked, “Uh…yeah.” You could practically feel the testosterone swirling in the air. Yoongi’s gaze drifted to the flowers. Then back to Jungkook. “She likes daisies not carnations.”, he smirked. Your jaw dropped, “Yoongi.”

“What?”, he said innocently. Jungkook looked deeply confused now, “Are you her brother or something?” You snorted. Yoongi said flatly, “No.” You grabbed your purse before the situation got any more strained, “Ignore him. He’s just being an asshole.” Jungkook laughed awkwardly, “I’ll try.”

As he led you down the hall, you glanced back once which was a huge mistake. Yoongi was still standing there watching you leave and the look on his face made your stomach drop. He looked absolutely furious.

The date went well. Jungkook was sweet and attentive and kept making you laugh until your cheeks hurt. You almost forgot about Yoongi entirely. Until Jungkook took you home around midnight and said quietly, “So…I think that guy hates me. He looked like he wanted to punch me.” You groaned into your hands, “I’m so sorry. Please don’t pay any attention to him.”

And then as you opened the front door you heard it.

The sound hit you harder the second you stepped inside the apartment. A laugh that was Mina’s. Then Yoongi’s voice low enough you couldn’t make out the words. Then another laugh.

Then unmistakably…moaning. Your entire body went still. Once again the apartment suddenly felt too hot. Too small. Jungkook awkwardly cleared his throat behind you. “Oh…well….”, he chuckled, “They’re having a fun night I guess.” Humiliation burned up your neck instantly. Because they were being loud. Like suspiciously loud. The headboard was hitting the wall loudly, over and over. Mina gasping loud. Yoongi begging her to be louder in between his own unnecessarily loud grunts and groans. Like they wanted someone to hear.

Your chest tightened so painfully it hurt to breathe. You felt your eyes burning. Jungkook shifted, “Y/N…do you…do you want to come back to my place instead?”

And maybe if this had happened yesterday or the day before, you would’ve said no. But tonight? Tonight, anger tasted better than heartbreak. You looked toward their closed bedroom door. Then back at Jungkook.

And something reckless bloomed inside you. “Yeah.”, you said loudly, “I’ll stay at your place tonight.”

From behind the bedroom wall…

silence. Complete. Instant.

Like someone stopped moving the second the words left your mouth.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes clouded with a raw, predatory intensity you’d never seen before. Gone was the polished billionaire. The man who had once offered you an arrangement. And in his place was a man who wanted to consume all of you. He reached for the hem of your shirt, his knuckles brushing your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through your nerves, “Are you sure? Because if I start, Y/N, I’m not going to be able to be gentle with how much I want you."

"Don't be gentle.”, you whispered, reaching for the buttons of his shirt with shaking hands. He didn't need to be told twice. He stripped his shirt off in one fluid motion, the candlelight dancing over the lean muscle of his back and chest. When he pulled your top over your head, his eyes traveled over you with a reverence that made you feel more seen than any other man ever had.

He leaned back in, his kisses becoming more possessive, more demanding. His hands were everywhere mapping your curves, pressing you into the table, pulling you so close there wasn't a breath of air between you. He moved with a focused, heavy grace, trailing his lips down your stomach, making you arch against him with a sharp intake of breath.

When he finally moved to carry you upstairs, he didn't break eye contact once. The hallway was a blur of shadows, but his room was filled with the lingering scent of his cologne and the soft light of the moon. He laid you back against the silk sheets, the same ones you’d shared during the storm but everything was different now. There was no polite space, no hesitation. As he moved over you, the weight of him felt like an anchor, finally pinning you to the reality you had been afraid to claim.

Every touch was an answer to the doubts everyone else had planted. This wasn't a game. It wasn't an arrangement. It was the friction of two people finally admitting they were terrified of how much they mattered to each other. In the quiet of the French countryside, with the ruins of a cake downstairs and flowers blooming in the dark of the windowsill, Yoongi showed you exactly what he meant when he said he wouldn't put this much of himself into someone he didn't love. He was slow where you needed it and frantic where you didn't, his name a constant, broken prayer on your lips until the sun began to threaten the horizon and the city of Paris felt a lifetime away.

Morning came slowly after that. Warm sunlight spilled through the curtains in pale gold streaks, washing softly across the rumpled sheets and tangled blankets. For a few seconds, you stayed half-asleep, warm and comfortable enough that you didn’t want to move. Then awareness settled in. The ache in your thighs. The bruises on your hips and the marks on your chest. The warmth still lingering against your skin. The memory of Yoongi’s hands on your waist. Your face heated instantly.

You shifted slightly beneath the blankets, reaching lazily toward the other side of the bed only to find it empty. Your eyes blinked open. For one brief, horrible second, panic flickered through you. Had you imagined all of it? Had things become weird afterward? Did he regret it? Then the smell of butter and coffee drifted faintly through the room and from downstairs, you heard cabinet doors softly closing followed by the quiet clink of dishes.

Relief hit you so fast you almost laughed at yourself. You pushed upright slowly, wincing a little at the soreness in your muscles before glancing around the room. Your clothes from last night were scattered somewhere between the bedroom and hallway in a way that made your face warm all over again.

A soft gray silk dress shirt lay folded neatly beside the bed. Yoongi’s. You smiled and slipped it on inhaling the leftover scent of him. The staircase creaked softly beneath your feet as you made your way downstairs, sleeves hanging over your hands, the sweater swallowing you whole. The mansion smelled warm now. Fresh coffee. Pastries. Rain lingering faintly through the cracked kitchen window. Yoongi stood at the counter with his naked back turned to you, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, dark hair damp from a shower and slightly messy like he’d only run his fingers through it once before giving up.

And the flowers. Your flowers sat in the middle of the kitchen table in a clean glass vase. Not shoved aside somewhere. Not forgotten. Carefully arranged. Your chest tightened quietly.

Like he felt you there, Yoongi glanced over his shoulder and immediately stilled. The look on his face hit you all over again. Soft. Affectionate. Absolutely ruined for you. “You’re finally awake.”, he said quietly. You nodded once, suddenly very aware you were wearing his shirt and absolutely nothing else underneath. His eyes flicked downward briefly.m. Then back up again.

“…Morning.”, you managed. A small smile tugged at his mouth. You wandered closer slowly. On the counter sat a white pastry box from the little bakery up the road. Beside it were two plates and fresh coffee already waiting.

“You went out this morning?”, you asked softly. “Mhm and then I came back and showered and started cleaning up a little.”, he hummed, “Couldn’t sleep.”

Your brows lifted slightly. A quiet smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth then, “Relax Y/N. That’s a good thing.” Heat rushed straight to your face, “You’re awfully smug today.”

“You’re wearing my shirt, only my shirt, in my kitchen after telling me you love me and giving me the most incredible night of sex I’ve ever had.”, he replied calmly, “Let me have this.” You groaned softly, hiding your face briefly in your sleeve while Yoongi laughed quietly under his breath.

He opened the pastry box then, revealing delicate raspberry eclairs decorated with gold flakes. Your eyes widened instantly, “Oh my god.”

“I saw you staring at them when we walked by the other day.”, he said softly. “You remembered that?”, you asked. Yoongi gave you a look over the rim of his coffee cup, “I remember everything about you. It’s actually becoming a real problem.”

Your stomach flipped violently. He slid a plate toward you before leaning casually against the counter beside you. Not across from you. Beside you. Close enough that your shoulder brushed his. Close enough that his hand absentmindedly settled against your lower back like it belonged there now.

You picked up one of the pastries carefully before taking a bite and immediately made a sound embarrassing enough that Yoongi actually laughed, “That good?” You pointed the pastry toward him, “Don’t talk to me right now.” He grinned openly this time, “That good then.” You nodded, “Almost better than the sex.” He laughed at that, “Well guess I’ll have to step up my game then. I can’t be outdone by some raspberry eclairs.”

With the silence that followed the air shifted again immediately. His eyes dropped briefly to your mouth. Then slowly back to your eyes. “You look good here.”, he murmured quietly. Your heartbeat stumbled. “Because I’m wearing your shirt?”, you teased weakly. “No.”, he said softly. His hand slid a little more firmly against your waist. You stopped breathing for a second. You knew what he meant even without further clarification.

The flight home was quieter than the one there but in the best way. Yoongi lazily traced circles against your leg absentmindedly. You rested against his shoulder, half-awake as clouds drifted outside the plane window. For a while neither of you spoke. Then suddenly he said, “I want to ask you something.” You tilted your head slightly to look at him. Yoongi looked nervous. His fingers paused briefly against your thigh before continuing slower this time. Yoongi exhaled softly through his nose before glancing down at your joined hands.

“I know technically we already crossed every line possible this week.”, he started dryly, earning a quiet laugh from you, “But I want to do this properly. You deserve that.” Your chest tightened instantly. “No arrangement this time.”, he said quietly. “No expectations. No hiding. No playing games. Nothing like that.” His gaze lifted to yours finally, softer now. “I just want you Y/N. I want to be exclusive.” Your heart melted completely. You stared at him for exactly two seconds before breaking into a grin.

“Well...”, you sighed dramatically, “I don’t know…I don’t really want to loose my sugar daddy benefits.” Yoongi looked genuinely offended, “Do you really think you would lose benefits? Things can only go up from here.” You laughed so hard the flight attendant glanced over briefly. “Oh really?”, you asked. He nodded seriously, “You’ll get the girlfriend privilege now. It comes with A LOT of extra benefits.”

You smiled helplessly because deep down you knew there had never really been another answer. You leaned over, kissing him softly once before whispering against his lips, “Yes.” The relief that crossed his face afterward was almost devastating like some part of him had still been scared you’d say no.

“You actually managed to tie down THE Min Yoongi.”, Jimin said across your kitchen counter four days later, “Do you understand how incredible that is? You tamed the untamable.” You nearly choked on your drink. Across the apartment, Yoongi rolled his eyes from where he stood unpacking takeout containers. You laughed helplessly while Yoongi muttered something under his breath in annoyance. Jimin leaned closer toward you conspiratorially. “He’s so smiley now.”, he whispered like it was concerning, “I’m not sure if I like it.” Yoongi threw a napkin at him, “I’m never coming over when you’re here again.”

“You say that every time and yet here you are.”, Jimin smiled. The entire evening felt warm in a way your life suddenly always seemed to around Yoongi now. Like somehow you’d slipped quietly into each other’s routines without noticing.

And apparently everyone else noticed too. Within two weeks, people at work had figured it out. Mostly because Yoongi didn’t even try hiding how gone he was for you.

He brought you breakfast every time you worked a morning shift. Canceled meetings to take you to lunch. Remembered tiny details about things you mentioned once in passing.

And he talked about you constantly.

“Y/N likes that restaurant.”

“Y/N hates this brand of wine.”

“Y/N said that musician was overrated.”

One day while you sat in his office waiting for him to wrap up a meeting, one of his assistants looked at you with exhausted amusement and whispered, “You realize he’s obsessed with you, right?” You did and somehow it still made your stomach flip every time.

It was a Friday when the restaurant glowed warm against the cool evening outside, all golden lighting and soft jazz drifting through the air. Candlelight flickered between you and Yoongi as he reached across the table, stealing one of the roasted potatoes from your plate before you could stop him. “Did you just take food off my plate?”, you narrowed your eyes. He looked completely unbothered as he chewed, “Mmmhmm.”

“You’re gonna pay for that later.”, you smirked. “You’ve eaten half my dinner every night for the last week.”, he said pointing his fork at you. “That’s sharing because you love me.”, you corrected immediately, “This was theft.” A quiet laugh left him, shoulders relaxing deeper into the booth. He looked different lately. Ever since that last night in the countryside when everything between you had finally stopped feeling uncertain.

Now he touched you constantly without thinking about it. A hand on your knee beneath the table. His thumb brushing your wrist while you sat and watched tv. That soft look in his eyes every time he caught you smiling at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

“You’re staring at me again.”, he murmured suddenly. You blinked out of your trance, “Don’t think so highly of your self. I was just…plotting my revenge for the potato theft.”

“You’re something else.”, he laughed. “Yeah but you love it.”, you shot back. His grin widened just slightly before he lifted his wineglass, “More than you’ll ever know.”

And then a voice cut through the moment, “Well…this is unexpected.” Your smile faded immediately. Mia stood beside the table dressed in a white silk dress and pearls, one hand loosely wrapped around a wineglass. Her eyes moved between the two of you before settling on Yoongi with a knowing little smirk.

Yoongi’s entire posture stiffened. “What do you want?”, he said flatly. She ignored the tone completely, leaning slightly closer toward him instead. Speaking loud enough for you to hear every word. “I’m honestly surprised to see you two here together.”, she sighed dramatically, “Especially since I heard about you and that waitress from your business dinner the other night. Something about the backseat of your car and you bragging about her underwear ending up in your pocket.”

Silence followed. Your entire body froze so hard your muscles ached. Mia’s eyes slid toward yours briefly, waiting for the reaction. Waiting for the hurt. The doubt. Then she smiled to herself like she’d already won. “Well…”, she hummed lightly, straightening again, “You two enjoy the rest of your dinner.” And then she walked away.

Yoongi turned toward you immediately. You could practically see the anxiety and fear hit him in real time. “Y/N…”, he started. “So anyway...”, you picked up your fork calmly and stuffed a potato in your mouth, “You still haven’t answered my question from this morning.”

He blinked, “…What?” You took another bite, “If I were to…adopt a cat…for you…a black one…that we were looking at a few weeks ago…that I may or may not have already put a hold on with the credit card you gave me…what would you name him?”

For a second he just stared at you completely dumbfounded, “You’re not upset?” You looked at him like the answer was obvious, “No?”

“Y/N she just implied…”, he tried to start but you cut him off. “I know what she implied.”, you shrugged lightly, “And I know she’s lying to try and break us apart.” The words hit him hard enough that he actually stopped breathing. You set your fork down then, giving him a softer look, “Yoongi…you…I know you wouldn’t hurt me like that. I trust you.”

His expression changed instantly. Not relief exactly. Something deeper than that. Something almost overwhelmed. “You really believe that?”, he asked quietly. You reached across the table, threading your fingers through his easily, “I do.” Yoongi stared at you for a long moment like he still couldn’t fully process being trusted so completely. Then his thumb brushed slowly across your knuckles.

“I love you.”, he said softly. Your heart squeezed painfully. Not because it surprised you but because it didn’t. You smiled a little, “I know and I love you too.” A helpless laugh escaped him then, warm and disbelieving all at once. Like he still couldn’t believe this was real.

Dinner became even softer after that. He kept looking at you across the table like he’d never seen anything better in his life.

Which was why, twenty minutes later, you nearly choked laughing when you spotted Mia still sitting at a table across the restaurant watching the two of you. “Oh absolutely not.”, you muttered. Yoongi immediately looked suspicious, “What do you have planned?” You stood up, “You’ll see.” He sighed, “Y/N…” His eyes widened when you grabbed your wineglass and started walking toward her.

“Baby.”, he called after you in a weak attempt to stop you but you were already gone.

Mia looked up just as you stopped beside her table. Her expression shifted immediately into smug satisfaction again. “You know Y/N.”, she started smoothly, “This whole time I’ve just been trying to help yoooOOOUU!”

You dumped the entire glass of red wine directly into her lap and all over her white dress. The shriek she let out nearly stopped the entire restaurant. “Oh my god!!!!”, she cried. You smiled sweetly. “Stay far away from us.”, you said calmly, “Maybe find another billionaire to gold dig on because your meddling isn’t working here any more and it’s honestly pretty pathetic.”

Her face turned scarlet. “You bitch!”, she shouted wiping at the wine stain. “Well…yeah probably.”, you cut her off lightly, “But mostly just someone who actually deserves him and cares enough to step in when someone’s trying to ruin him.”

Then you turned and walked away before she could say anything else. The entire restaurant had gone silent. Yoongi was doubled over laughing by the time you made it back to the table. “You are actually insane.”, he breathed between laughs. He stood and had one hand immediately sliding around your waist as he pulled you against him.

“And I think…”, he said, still grinning, “you might actually be the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.” You smirked, “Oh I already know I am.” He kissed your lips, “That confidence is really doing something to me right now.” You laughed just before he kissed you again completely unconcerned with the fact that half the restaurant was still staring.

The two of you started walking towards the exit when Yoongi stopped next to Mia’s table. He reached into his wallet and tossed a handful of money in front of her, “That should be more than enough to cover the dress. It’s clearly a knock-off anyway.” You hid your laugh with a small cough and quickly followed after Yoongi so you wouldn’t be tempted to add fuel to the fire.

“The more I think about it…you’re kind of terrifying when you want to be.”, he said as you walked towards the car. “Good.”, you laughed leaning into him, “Remember that the next time you ever think about pissing me off.”

“Hey now...”, he said opening the car door for you, “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Twenty minutes later you stood together outside a tiny late-night ice cream shop on the other side of the city. You looked over at his cone in genuine disbelief, “Seriously…all of those flavors and you went with vanilla?” Yoongi looked offended, “It’s classic.” He narrowed his eyes while you happily took another bite of your own ridiculously overloaded strawberry cheesecake ice cream covered in caramel drizzle and cookie pieces.

“That…”, he pointed at your cone, “Is going to put you in a sugar coma by the end of the night.” You gasped dramatically, “You’re actually judging me after choosing the most basic flavor? We better get you home soon because it’s almost past your bedtime grandpa.” He barked out a laugh loud enough that a couple walking past glanced over.

You grinned before leaning over and stealing a bite of his anyway. Yoongi sighed heavily, “You literally called it boring two seconds ago.” You laughed, “And yet here I am.”

“Yeah and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”, Yoongi squeezed your hand once before glancing over again, “We should probably figure out the cat situation too.” Your entire expression brightened instantly, “I knew you were excited and you weren’t gonna say no.”

“I am not excited.”, he shook his head. You laughed at his denial, “I saw that you already bookmarked luxury cat beds online.”

“That was research for Sir Fuzzy Paws. I think he needs an upgrade.”, he corrected. “You compared cat trees for forty five minutes the night I first mentioned the cat.”, you smiled. He scoffed, “I just thought that maybe I’d get one to have at my place incase Sir Fuzzy Paws ever wants to spend the night.” You laughed, “Suuurrreeee…but I guess that does ALMOST explain why you ordered four of them.” He rolled his eyes but then his expression shifted slightly, something more playful pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh…”, he added casually, taking another bite of his ice cream, “I think I’ll name him Tang. You know like sugar.” You laughed softly, glancing over at him, “That’s actually kind of perfect.”

“Mhm.”, he nodded proudly, completely unaware of where your brain had already gone. Your steps slowed just slightly. You looked up at him through your lashes, lips curving slowly as realization settled in. “Well…”, you said innocently, voice softer now, “I guess that means you’ll have your sugar…and I’ll still get to have my daddy too.”

Yoongi nearly choked. You burst into laughter immediately as he stopped walking altogether, staring at you in complete disbelief while his entire face turned red all the way to the tips of his ears. “Y/N.”, he hissed under his breath looking around the sidewalk like someone might’ve heard you, “You can’t just say stuff like that while we’re in public.”

“What?”, you asked sweetly, taking another lick of your ice cream, “You started it.” He was very visibly flustered now. You leaned a little closer as you walked again, “You’re the one who invited me for brunch and then turned me into a spoiled girl with expensive taste and too much confidence.”

“That is not…”, he cut himself off with a groan before following it up with a pout, “You can’t say stuff like this in public where I can’t absolutely ravage you like I want to.”

“Careful.”, you murmured teasingly, “Don’t get me excited about the thought of it…daddy.” He looked genuinely devastated by that one. And somehow even through the shock, even while hiding his face behind one hand and laughing under his breath, his fingers still found yours automatically. Holding on tighter like he always would now.

You laughed and bumped your shoulder against his as the two of you continued down the glowing city sidewalk together, fingers tangled tightly between yours. And for the first time in a long time, everything felt easy.

What started simply as a way to get a little extra sugar had turned into something infinitely sweeter.

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Inside was just as breathtaking. High ceilings, warm wood floors, soft lighting that made everything feel calm instead of overwhelming. Yoongi gave you a small, casual tour of the living room, kitchen, a sunlit dining area that opened into a garden.

Then he led you upstairs. “And this is yours.”, he said, opening a door. You stepped inside. The room was stunning with large windows overlooking the hills of the countryside, soft linens, a cozy armchair tucked into the corner. It was perfect and separate. “Oh…”, you said before you could stop yourself. It was small. Barely noticeable but Yoongi caught it anyway. His expression shifted just slightly. “I thought it might be better…”, he said, “So you’d have your own space and not feel…uncomfortable or anything.” You smiled quickly, “No, yeah. That’s…it’s good. It’s really nice.”

And it was the right choice. Still, as you set your bag down, there was a tiny, quiet part of you that felt…something else. Something you didn’t want to name.

That night was really simple. No grand plans. No itinerary. Just the two of you. You changed into something comfortable, walking downstairs to find Yoongi already in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, a bottle of wine open.

Dinner was easy. Soft conversation. Laughter that came without effort. The kind of quiet that didn’t need to be filled. At one point, you found yourself curled slightly into the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, watching him talk about some random documentary he was watched and it hit you all at once in how…different this felt. No expectations. No pressure. Just him. Just you.

Later, when the wine had warmed your chest and the conversation slowed, you both sat in a comfortable silence. “I’m glad we did this.”, you murmured. Yoongi looked at you over the rim of his glass, “Yeah me too.”

The next morning, Paris awaited and Yoongi had a busy day planned. The city buzzed with life the second you stepped into it. It was everything you imagined. It was beautiful, busy, full of movement and charm. Street musicians, cafés spilling onto sidewalks, the quiet hum of people living their lives.

Yoongi stayed close to you. He took you everywhere. Little streets. Hidden shops. Your eyes widened as he casually led you into a designer store you’d only looked at online.“Yoongi.”, you whispered, grabbing his sleeve slightly, “What are we doing?” He shrugged, “Shopping.” He turned to face you then, expression softening. “It’s not…that.”, he said gently, “It’s not an arrangement. It’s not…I just want to do something for you because I want to. Not because I expect anything.”

“…One thing.”, you said finally, holding up a finger. A small smile tugged at his lips, “We’ll see.”

(It was not one thing.)

By the end of the day, your feet ached, your arms were full, and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. The city had softened around you and became less overwhelming but more magical. And somehow, so had he. The sun had dipped low by the time you found yourselves wrapped in coats, hands wrapped around cups of thick hot chocolate from a small stand.

“This might be the best thing I’ve had all day.”, you said after your first sip. He chuckled, “Come on Y/N. One more stop.” You had an idea where he was taking you.

The Eiffel Tower was even more breathtaking up close. Lit up against the night sky, glowing in a way that didn’t feel real. By the time you reached the top, the city stretched endlessly beneath you with lights flickering like stars, the hum of Paris far below. You stepped closer to the railing, breath catching, “Wow…” Yoongi stood beside you, but when you turned, He wasn’t looking at the view. He was looking at you. Your heart skipped. You didn’t say anything. Neither did he. You just looked at each other. And slowly he stepped closer. Close enough that your breath hitched. Close enough that you could feel it. That pull, that quiet, magnetic something that had been building all day.

Your eyes flickered to his lips. Back to his eyes. And then—

“Excuse me!”

You both startled, stepping back just slightly like you were caught doing something wrong. A couple stood nearby, smiling apologetically, holding out a phone, “Could you take a picture of us?” You blinked. Yoongi exhaled quietly, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah.”, he said, taking the phone.

You turned away for a second, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips and the way your heart was still racing. On the ride back, neither of you mentioned it. But the air between you had changed and as the city lights faded behind you, one thought lingered quietly in your chest.

The next day you were excited to go to the little market you’d driven by in the ride in. It sat just down the road, tucked between rows of trees and small stone buildings. It wasn’t anything like the bustling one from your first date. This one was quieter. The kind of place where people greeted each other by name.

You wandered slowly, taking your time. Fresh bread, handmade goods, baskets of fruit. Then you heard it. A soft bleat. Your head snapped toward the small fenced area at the edge of the market. “Oh my god.”, you said, already walking faster, “Yoongi.”

“No.”, he said immediately, already knowing, “No, absolutely not.” You turned back to him with a grin, “You’re coming with me.”

“No I’m not.”, he said firmly, “I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Petunia was one sheep.”, you argued, “You can’t generalize.”

“I absolutely can.”, he shot back, “That was a targeted attack.” You laughed, grabbing his wrist and tugging him along anyway. He stopped just outside the fence, crossing his arms, “I’ll observe from here.” You stepped inside, crouching slightly to pet the sheep, who was unsurprisingly completely gentle. Yoongi narrowed his eyes at the animal like he didn’t trust it for a second. “I’m watching you.”, he muttered. You laughed so hard you nearly lost your balance.

Somehow as the day went on you ended up on a fishing boat. “I’m going to catch dinner.”, Yoongi declared confidently, adjusting the fishing rod like he’d done this a hundred times. You sat across from him, chin resting in your hand, “You? Mister Dior wearing, luxury car driving, 12 step skin care routine billionaire? The same man who almost got taken out by a sheep?”

“That was different.”, he scoffed. You laughed, “mmmhm.” It took exactly ten minutes for things to fall apart. First, his line got tangled. Then, he nearly lost his balance trying to fix it. At one point, the boat rocked just enough that he grabbed onto the side quickly, muttering something under his breath. You were barely holding it together.

“You said you were going to catch dinner.”, you reminded him sweetly. “I am.”, he insisted. “I’m pretty sure the bait is starting to get bored.”, you pointing at the very still line. He shot you a look, “You’re enjoying this too much.” Two hours later and nothing. Not a single fish. Not even a nibble. Yoongi stared out at the water like he was looking for a way to terminate its contract. You laughed, “Maybe the sheep alerted the fish that you were coming.” He sighed, setting the rod down, “We’re going back. I’m over it.”

On the walk back through the market, you were still smiling. “I can’t believe you almost fell off the boat.”, you said, “I bet those fish have never seen a Gucci shirt up close before.”

“I didn’t almost fall.”, he rolled his eyes before stopping at one of the stalls. “I’m still making dinner.”, he said, pulling out his wallet. You watched as he carefully picked out fresh fish, handing over cash like nothing had happened. “Oh, I see.”, you said slowly, “You did catch dinner. Just…with your wallet instead. That’s kind of liek your thing.” He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head, “You’re never letting any of this go, are you?” “Never.”, you smiled brightly.

Dinner turned out perfect anyway. Yoongi moved around the kitchen with ease, plating everything carefully while you lingered nearby, stealing bites when you thought he wasn’t looking. He saw but didn’t say anything.

The storm rolled in slowly. You didn’t notice it at first. It was just the distant sound of thunder, the faint shift in the air.

Then the lights flickered.

Once. Twice. And then…

Darkness.

You froze, “Yoongi?”

“I’m here.” he said immediately to ease you.

You heard some shuffling. Then a soft click. Another. Warm light bloomed around the room as he lit a few candles, then a few more, until the space was filled with a soft, golden glow.

The rain started soon after, tapping gently against the windows. It felt quiet like the world had pulled back just enough to leave the two of you alone in it. You sat across from each other at first. Then closer as a slight nighttime chill creeped in. “You okay?”, he asked quietly. You nodded, your voice softer now, “Yeah. This is actually kind of nice.” He glanced around at the candles, then back at you., “Yeah it is.”

The silence settled again but this time, it felt different. “Y/N…I’m scared…I don’t want to mess this up.”, he said suddenly surprising both it you. You looked at him. “You’re not.”, you said softly. Then you shifted just slightly closer, “Yoongi…”

He leaned in slowly like he was still giving you time to stop him. You didn’t. Your lips met gently at first. Soft. Careful and then deeper. His hand found your waist, steadying you as you leaned into him, your fingers curling lightly into his shirt.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t overwhelming. It was everything it needed to be. When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested lightly against his. Neither of you spoke right away. You didn’t need to.

As the night went on the storm didn’t let up. If anything, it grew louder and stronger with rain hitting the windows harder now, wind threading through the trees with a low, restless sound that made the whole house seem to shift. Your room, as beautiful as it was, suddenly felt too cold. You sat on the edge of the bed for a while, listening. The distant rumble of thunder. The soft flicker of candlelight casting shifting shadows along the walls.

You told yourself you were fine. You told yourself to just lie down, close your eyes, wait it out. You lasted maybe five minutes. With a quiet exhale, you pushed yourself up, grabbing the edge of the blanket around your shoulders before stepping into the hallway. The floor was cool beneath your feet, the house dim except for the faint glow of candlelight somewhere further down.

You got to his door. You hesitated. Then you knocked softly. There was a brief pause before his voice came, low and familiar, “Come in.” You opened the door just enough to peek inside. He was sitting up in bed, one of the candles on his nightstand casting a warm glow across his face, softening the edges of him. His expression shifted the second he saw you. Surprise first, then something gentler. Concern, maybe, “Hey…Y/N are you okay?” You nodded quickly, stepping in just a little, fingers tightening slightly around the blanket, “Yeah. I just…”, you let out a small, almost embarrassed breath, “The storm’s kind of…loud.”

His gaze softened immediately. You hesitated again, then forced yourself to just say it before you could talk yourself out of it. “Can I…”, you paused, glancing down for a second before looking back at him, “Can I sleep in here? With you?” There was no hesitation on his part. “Of course.”, he said, almost too comically fast, already shifting pulling the covers back without a second thought, “Yeah, of course. Come here.”

Something in your chest eased instantly. You slipped inside. The mattress dipped as you settled on the far side at first, leaving a small, polite space between you. For a second, neither of you spoke. The storm filled the silence again but it didn’t feel as heavy now. “You don’t have to stay all the way over there, you know.”, he murmured after a moment, voice softer now, almost teasing but not quite. You huffed a quiet laugh, shifting just slightly closer, “I’m not that far.”

“Mmmmhm.”, he replied, not sounding convinced. Then, slowly, he reached over hesitant, like he was still asking permission without words and gently tugged the edge of the blanket higher around your shoulders.

You stilled for just a second at the contact. The space between you didn’t last much longer. A small shift. Then another. Until your arm brushed his. Until your shoulder rested lightly against his side. Until it felt natural. His hand hovered for a second before settling carefully at your waist light, warm and steady like he was grounding you rather than pulling you in.

The thunder cracked again, louder this time. Without thinking, you moved closer. He didn’t comment on it. Didn’t tease you. He just adjusted slightly, letting you tuck in against him, his arm settling more securely around you now. “I’ won’t let anything happen to you.”, he murmured, so quiet you almost missed it.

Your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his shirt. The storm kept going. But somewhere between one breath and the next, it faded into the background. And for the first time in a while you fell asleep feeling completely, impossibly comfortable and safe.

Morning came quietly. The storm had softened into a gentle drizzle, the kind that tapped lightly against the windows. Pale light slipped through the curtains, washing the room in soft gray.

You woke slowly. Warmth pressed against you. It was solid and steady. For a second, you didn’t move, your mind still catching up to your body and then you felt it. His arm around your waist. Your leg tangled with his. Your cheek resting just barely against his shoulder. Your breath hitched, not in panic just in awareness. Carefully, you tilted your head up. Yoongi was still asleep. His features softened in a way you didn’t see when he was awake, tension gone, lashes resting low against his cheeks. His hair was slightly messy, falling into his eyes, and his grip on you, loose, but protective tightened just slightly when you shifted. Like even asleep, he didn’t want to let go.

Your chest tightened. Slowly and gently, you eased yourself out of his hold, careful not to wake him. It took a second, his arm resisting just enough to make your heart stutter, but eventually, you slipped free. He didn’t wake. Just shifted slightly into the space you left behind. You lingered for a second. Just looking at him. Then you shook it off softly and slipped out of the room.

You moved through your routine slowly, washing your face, brushing your hair, trying not to think too hard about the way your body still felt warm where he’d been. Trying not to think about how easy it had been. How right it had felt.

You were halfway through getting ready when you heard it. A faint vibration. You paused. It came again. His phone had been left on the bathroom counter. The phone lit up again. You glanced at it. You shouldn’t have. A message preview sat on the screen.

From Mia.

Your stomach tightened slightly at the name alone and then your eyes caught the text.

—

I heard you’re in Paris…with her.

Just tell her the truth this time, Yoongi.

A few weeks in the countryside, a little attention, and she’ll think it’s real.

You said the same things to me. Hopefully she’s smart enough not to fall for it too.

You went still. Completely still. The room didn’t change. Nothing moved. The warmth from earlier, the softness, the quiet comfort unraveled.

Your eyes flickered back to him. Still asleep. Still peaceful. Still looking like someone who had held you like you mattered. Your chest tightened. Because now there was a crack in it. A small one. But enough. Enough to let doubt slip in. Enough to make everything from last night feel uncertain.

You swallowed, stepping back quietly. The phone dimmed. The room fell still again. And just like that something that had felt steady…didn’t anymore. You didn’t say anything. Because if you did, your voice would give you away and you didn’t even know what you were feeling yet. Hurt, yes. But mixed with doubt, embarrassment, anger. So you swallowed it.

By the time Yoongi woke up, you were already downstairs. He noticed something was off immediately. You were standing by the stove, back half-turned, focused a little too hard on the French toast you were tending to in the pan.

“Y/N.,”, his voice came, still rough with sleep. You glanced up briefly, “Morning.” He paused just slightly. “Morning…”, he echoed, slower this time like he was trying to place something that felt off. You didn’t look at him again. Didn’t smile the way you had yesterday. Didn’t tease him about the storm or the way he’d held you like you belonged there next to him.

You just picked up your mug. Took a sip. Tried to act busy, neutral, distant. Yoongi frowned faintly, stepping closer, “Have you been up long?”

“Not really.”, you shook your head. He leaned his hip against the counter, watching you a little more carefully now, “You sleep okay?”

Your grip tightened slightly around the mug “Yeah.”, you said, still not meeting his eyes, “It was fine.” He pushed off the counter slightly. “Did I…”, he stopped himself, exhaling softly before trying again, “Did something happen?” You shook your head immediately, “Nope.”

“Then what is it?”, he pressed, not harsh, but slightly irritated, “You’re acting like…”

“Like what?”, you cut in, finally looking at him. Yoongi stilled. “…Like you’re pulling away from me again.”, he finished quietly.

Your chest tightened because he wasn’t wrong.“I’m not.”, you lied, softer now, but it didn’t sound convincing not even to you. He held your gaze for a second longer, searching. Trying to figure you out. Trying to find where he’d gone wrong but not finding anything.

“…Okay.”, he said finally. But it wasn’t agreement. It was restraint from not wanting to further the anger. He stepped back just slightly, giving you space you hadn’t asked for but were clearly taking and that hurt too.

The rest of the morning felt just as uncomfortable. The easy laughter from the first few days didn’t come as naturally. The little touches were absent. The way you used to lean into him without thinking was gone.

And Yoongi noticed all of it but he didn’t push again. He just watched you a little more closely like he was waiting for you to come back to him.

And you wanted to. That was the part you hated the most. You wanted to step back into it like nothing had changed. Like you hadn’t seen that message. Like it didn’t echo in the back of your mind every time he looked at you too softly.

You said the same things to me.

Your chest tightened again. Because now every word he said…

Every look…

Every touch…

Carried a question you couldn’t shake and no matter how much you tried to ignore it…

Yoongi tried anyway. By the time you stepped out onto the back terrace later that morning, the air still cool from the storm, he was already there. Two cups sat on the small table between the chairs.

Your coffee. Made exactly how you liked it.

You paused. “You didn’t have to…”, you started. “I know.”, he said quietly, sliding one of the cups toward you anyway, “I wanted to.”

You nodded, sitting down across from him, wrapping your hands around the cup like it could anchor you. He watched you over the rim of his own cup, eyes narrowing just slightly. “You’ve been very quiet Y/N.”, he said after a moment.

“I’m just tired.”, you lied. You both knew it but he let it sit there.

Later, you found yourselves back in the small market. It should have felt the same but it didn’t.You walked beside him instead of into him. Your hands brushed once accidentally. You pulled away first. Yoongi noticed. His jaw tightened just slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached out, picking up a small jar from one of the stalls.

Apricot jam.

“Try this.”, he said, holding it out toward you with one of those small wooden spoons. You hesitated. Then leaned in anyway, tasting it. It was sweet. Subtle. You nodded, “It’s good.” He smiled faintly, “Yeah. Thought you’d like it.” Then he added, “I remembered that you always order those apricot cookies from the bakery by your apartment.”

Your throat tightened. For a split second you almost let yourself fall back into it.

But then you saw the words…

You said the same things to me.

You stepped back slightly. “We should keep moving.”, you said, too quick. His smile faded, “… Right. But for the first time he didn’t follow as closely.

It happened again that afternoon. You were back at the house, the rain long gone now, sunlight filtering through the windows like nothing had ever been wrong.

Yoongi was in the kitchen cooking dinner. You leaned in the doorway, arms crossed lightly, watching him move. It should have felt comforting. Instead, it felt like watching something you weren’t sure belonged to you anymore.

He glanced up, catching you there, “You just gonna stand there and look pretty or are you going to help?” There it was. A little tease. A little normal. You forced a small smile, “You seem like you’ve got it handled.”

“Mmmhmm.”, he hummed, turning back to the stove, “I always do.”

“Yeah…you always do.”, you repeated quietly. He glanced back at you, brow furrowing slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”, you said quickly.

And then his phone buzzed. On the counter. Right between you. Your eyes flicked to it before you could stop yourself.

Mia. Again.

This time, Yoongi saw it happen. Saw the exact second your expression changed. Saw the way your shoulders stiffened. The way your gaze dropped immediately after. His attention snapped to the phone. Then back to you and something clicked.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”, he grumbled under his breath. You stepped back, “I’m going…”,

“Y/N.”, he cut in, with a bite this time, “Don’t.” You froze. Slowly, you looked back at him. He was already reaching for the phone, unlocking it quickly, eyes scanning the screen. His jaw tightened.

He set the phone down a little harder than necessary, then looked at you fully. “I saw that she said…”, you started, then stopped yourself. He waited. You shook your head, “It doesn’t matter.”

“It clearly does.”, he snapped, frustration slipping through now, “You’ve been pulling away from me all day because of it.”

“I’m not pulling away.”, you weakly defended yourself. “You won’t even look at me.”, he cut in, voice sharper now, “You can barely be in the same room as me. So yeah, you are.”

“She said…”, you forced out finally, voice quieter now, “that you’ve done this before. That you take someone somewhere like this and…”, your voice faltered slightly despite yourself, “and make it feel real. Like you actually care. It’s…it’s just like a game to you…or a way to make sure they stay as an option.”

The words hung there. Yoongi stared at you. Not defensive. Not angry. Just…stunned. “That’s what you think this is?”, he asked finally, voice lower now. “I don’t know what this is.”, you admitted, and that was the most honest thing you’d said all day, “…That’s the problem.”

“You think I flew you out here. Personally planned an entire trip to your liking.”, he said slowly, stepping closer, “just to…what? Play house for a week?”

“I didn’t say that…”, you tried but he cut you off. “You didn’t have to Y/N. And instead of talking to me.”, he continued, voice tight now, “You just decided she’s right?” Your chest tightened, “I didn’t decide anything, I just…”,

“You pulled away.”, he said, “You shut me out over something she said without even giving me a chance to explain.”

“That’s not fair…”, you tried to say. “No.”, he snapped, a flash hurt maybe anger breaking through now, “What’s not fair is you acting like last night didn’t mean anything because of her. Because of the person I’ve repeatedly told you to stay away from because she’s evil. But you trust her over me.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “You want the truth?”, he said finally, quieter now. You didn’t answer. He stepped closer anyway. Close enough that it felt like last night for just a second. Before everything got complicated.

“I did take her somewhere like this.”, he admitted. Your heart dropped. “But it wasn’t like this.”, he added immediately, “I took her to Italy. I was desperate to try and save our relationship. I thought I could force her to love me instead of my money.”, he laughed to himself, “Funnily enough it completely went to shit when I saw text messages between her and some guy she was cheating on me with. I ended things and flew back home that day. She never forgave me for taking that opportunity away from her so she’s tried to sabotaged any relationship I’ve tried to have since.”

Your breath caught. “And if you think I’d go through all of this…”, he gestured around you, frustration still there but threaded with something more vulnerable now, “Just to fake it? Just to get you in bed? Keep you on the back burner for when I have no other options?” He shook his head, “Y/N that’s not me. I could have women lined up for all of that for less than half the effort I’ve put in. I wouldn’t put this much of myself into a relationship with someone I wasn’t in love with.”

You felt numb. Your breathing stopped. Yoongi stepped back first like he couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud. Just enough to put space between you again.

You opened your mouth, wanting to say something, anything, but he beat you to it. “I…need a minute.”, he said taking another step back. He turned away before you could answer, dragging a hand through his hair as he moved toward staircase. The sound of his steps getting louder as they moved farther away. Then he was gone.

You stood there alone for a long moment. The kitchen still smelled like dinner. His phone still sat on the counter. Everything looked exactly the same. But the warmth that had filled the room since the storm was gone now, replaced with something aching and awkward and sharp around the edges.

Your chest tightened painfully because the worst part wasn’t the argument. It was the look on his face when he realized you believed her even after everything he’d done to try and prove you otherwise.

Later that night Yoongi stood near the railing of the terrace, shoulders tense. You hesitated in the doorway.l Then stepped outside anyway, “Yoongi…”

He didn’t turn around immediately. When he finally did, his expression had smoothed out too much. Like he’d shoved everything down somewhere you couldn’t reach and didn’t intend to bring it back up again.

“You don’t have to apologize.”, he said before you could speak. Your stomach twisted, “I was going to.” He gave a small shrug, eyes drifting away from you again, “It’s fine.” It very obviously wasn’t. You moved a little closer, “I didn’t mean to look at your phone.” He nodded, “I know.”

“And I didn’t want to believe her.”, you added. That made him glance at you again. Only briefly though. “But you did.”, he said quietly. The words hit hard because he wasn’t trying to hurt you with them. He was hurt too. “I got scared.”, you admitted softly. Something flickered across his face then of frustration, sadness, maybe both.

“Of me?”, he asked. “No.”, you said immediately, “Of this.” His jaw tightened slightly as he looked back out toward the hills, “You know what the shitty part is Y/N?” You stayed quiet. “I think I would’ve understood if you yelled at me.”, a humorless laugh left him quietly, “Or got angry. Or threw something at my head, honestly.” Despite everything, your lips twitched faintly. But his didn’t.

“You pulling away like that?”, he continued, voice lower now, “Acting like last night suddenly didn’t matter…like we didn’t feel something…have something between us.” He swallowed once, “That…fucking sucked.”

The honesty of it made your chest ache. You stepped closer again, slowly enough to give him room to move away if he wanted. He didn’t but he didn’t lean toward you either. He finally looked at you fully again, “You thought the worst before you thought of me.” You remained silent because he was right and there wasn’t really a defense for that.

The wind shifted softly between you, cool against your skin. Yoongi looked tired suddenly. “I’ve spent this entire trip…the last couple months really…trying to make you see what we would be. Trying to make sure you never felt pressured.”, he said quietly. “Trying to make you comfortable. Trying to make sure you felt safe with me.”

“You do make me feel safe.”, you cut in quickly. His eyes searched yours for a second, like he wanted to believe that. “But not enough apparently.”, he murmured. Your throat tightened instantly, “Yoongi…”

“No, it’s okay.”, he interrupted gently, and somehow that gentleness hurt worse than anger would’ve, “I get it now.” You shook your head.”, That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it Y/N?”, he asked softly. You froze because there was an answer. But that answer still scared you. The pause went on too long. A faint nod left him, small and almost resigned “Right..”, he said quietly, “We can finally just stop whatever…this is.”

Then he stepped around you and went back into the house. Leaving you standing there alone on the terrace with the sinking realization that for the first time since this trip started he was the one pulling away now.

The last night in Paris arrived too quickly and somehow not quickly enough. The distance between you and Yoongi never turned into a full fight again but it lingered in smaller ways instead. Quiet pauses. Almost touches that never fully happened. Conversations that stayed light even when both of you were clearly thinking about something heavier underneath.

He was still kind. Still attentive. That made it worse. Because now there was caution in him too. Like he was trying not to want too much from you.

That morning, Yoongi mentioned he was going to go into the city for a few hours. To see a business partner. You nodded from where you sat at the kitchen island, “Okay.” His gaze lingered on you for just a second longer than necessary, like maybe he wanted you to say something else. Then he was gone.

You stared down at your coffee for a long moment before suddenly pushing your chair back. No. You weren’t ending this trip like this.

Paris buzzed around you as you moved through the city alone. It felt much bigger by yourself. You wandered from little shop to little shop carrying far more than you probably should have. Fresh oranges. Cream. Butter. And flowers.

You paused outside one tiny florist shop with peonies spilling out onto the sidewalk and found yourself thinking something ridiculous.

I bet nobody has ever bought him flowers.

The thought stuck with you.

Because Yoongi was always the one giving things. Providing things. You wondered if anyone had ever looked at him and thought:

I want to make you feel loved too.

So you bought them. Soft cream-colored roses mixed with pale wildflowers that reminded you of the countryside around the mansion.

You felt a little stupid carrying them afterward but not enough to put them back.

At one point, standing in the middle of a grocery aisle completely overwhelmed, you pulled out your phone.

To Jungkook: Important question.

The reply came almost immediately.

Jungkook: No I will not lie to authorities about your whereabouts if you murdered Yoongi.

Despite yourself, you smiled faintly.

You: What’s Yoongi’s favorite dessert?

Three typing bubbles appeared instantly. Then disappeared. Then reappeared.

Jungkook: …why

You: Jungkook.👿

Jungkook: Okay okay 😭 It’s red velvet cake. He’s a simple man like that.

A couple hours later, the kitchen and you looked like a disaster had come through. There was cocoa powder on the counter, flour all over your shirt, and you were fairly certain you’d forgotten half the sugar and ruined the cake. You almost burned the potatoes roasting in the oven and you overcooked the steaks just a bit.

But eventually it came together. It wasn’t perfect but you did your best. You arranged the flowers in a vase afterward, setting them carefully in the center of the dining table.

You heard the front door open just after sunset. Your stomach flipped instantly. “Im home.”, Yoongi called from the entryway.“In here.”, you answered, trying and failing to sound normal. There were footsteps and when he stepped into the dining room he stopped. For a second, he just stared.

At the table. The flowers. The food. Then finally at you. You suddenly felt unbearably nervous.

“I made dinner and I bought you flowers. I know it’s probably not as good as…”, you started but he cut you off, “You bought me flowers?”

You blinked away the embarrassment. His eyes were still fixed on them like he genuinely couldn’t process it.

“…Yeah.”, you said slowly, “I just thought…”

“No one’s ever bought me flowers before.”, he chuckled softly. Yoongi walked closer slowly, gaze flicking over the arrangement again carefully. “They reminded me of you.”, you admitted before you could stop yourself. And there it was again…That look. That devastatingly soft look he only ever seemed to get around you. The one that made it impossible to breathe normally. “You made all of this?”, he asked quietly. You nodded once, “I wanted too.” The same words he’d said to you before.

Recognition flickered across his face immediately and for the first time in days some of the distance lessened. His gaze drifted toward the cake with the slightly melting frosting at the edge of the table, “Wait…” You groaned softly, “Don’t judge it yet. Jungkook told me your favorite dessert is red velvet cake and he said it was simple but apparently not simple enough for me.”

“You asked Jungkook?”, he laughed. “You’re impossible to judge when it comes to sugary confections.”, you defended immediately. That earned another laugh which you had to admit felt good.

Yoongi looked at you for a long moment after that. Then finally asked, voice gentler now, “Why’d you do all this?” Your chest tightened because there were a hundred answers but only one real one. You stepped closer slowly. “Because I hurt you.”, you said honestly, “And I hated it.” The amusement faded from his expression immediately, replaced with something quieter. He looked more vulnerable.

“Y/N I didn’t need all this.”, he shook his head. “I know.”, you said, “But I needed you to know that I see you for who you are…and I love you.”

That hit him. You could actually see it happen. The way his expression faltered slightly. The way his shoulders loosened like he’d been carrying something heavy all week. Yoongi looked at you for so long after the words left your mouth that your heartbeat started to stutter beneath the silence. And then he laughed softly. Not because it was funny. It sounded a little like relief.

His hand lifted slowly, fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before resting against your cheek. “You love me?”, he asked quietly. You smiled despite yourself, “You seem surprised.”

“I am.”, he admitted honestly, “You’re way too good for someone like me.” That ache in your chest deepened at the vulnerability in his voice. Yoongi wasn’t the kind of person who admitted things easily but he was looking at you like he’d give you the world.

“You make it really hard not to.”, you whispered. His eyes closed briefly at that like the words physically hit him somewhere deep. Then he pulled you into him. You barely had time to breathe before his arms wrapped around you completely, solid and warm and safe. Your face pressed into his chest as he held you tighter than he ever had before. Unwilling to let distance exist between you anymore.

“Y/N I don’t think you understand what you do to me.”, he murmured into your hair. Your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his sweater, “I could probably say the same thing about you.”

A quiet hum left him. Amused and a little affectionate. For a while neither of you moved away from each other. The candles flickered softly around the room. Dinner sat forgotten on the table. The cake was a long forgotten tragedy.

Everything felt still. Until Yoongi leaned back just enough to look at you again and the expression on his face made your stomach flip instantly. His thumb brushed slowly across your cheekbone, “Y/N…”

The way he said your name this time felt different. Like a question. Like he was filled with restraint. Like he was standing at the edge of something and waiting to see if you’d meet him there too.

The way his hands rested on your waist. The way his gaze kept flickering to your lips before forcing itself back to your eyes. His throat bobbed slightly. Like he was holding himself back by sheer force at this point.

“Tell me to stop.”, he murmured softly. You knew he didn’t really want you to. The terrifying part was that you didn’t want to either. Your fingers curled lightly against his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm. For a second neither of you moved. Neither of you looked away. Then slowly you leaned closer.

And Yoongi’s restraint finally started to break.

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You had imagined this moment a hundred different ways. None of them looked like this though. No guards dragging you in. No dark, smoke-filled room. No immediate sense of danger pressing against your throat.

Instead he asked, “Coffee?” The question caught you off guard. You blinked, fingers tightening slightly around your notebook as you looked across the table at him. Min Yoongi, he didn’t look like a man people feared, not at first glance at least. He sat comfortably across from you in a quiet, upscale lounge tucked into the corner of a high-rise building downtown. Soft lighting, low music, the faint clink of glassware in the distance. Nothing about this was normal.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to refocus, “I’m fine, thank you.” A small nod. No pressure, “Suit yourself.” His voice was low, calm in a way that made it hard to read. You’d spent months chasing this.

Bangtan.

A name whispered more than spoken. A network that didn’t officially exist but somehow touched everything in business, politics, and crime. Untouchable. Untraceable. And sitting in front of you was their leader. Agreeing to an interview. It didn’t make sense. Which meant there was a reason. You just hadn’t figured it out yet.

“You said you had questions.”, Yoongi said, leaning back slightly in his chair, eyes settling on you with quiet focus, “You should probably ask them.” You swallowed, flipping open your notebook, pen poised even though your pulse had started to pick up. “Your organization.”, you began carefully, “has been connected to multiple…”

“Alleged connections.”, he corrected softly. You paused, “Alleged connections to several high-profile incidents. Care to comment?” A faint flicker of something crossed his face, “Not particularly.” Your lips pressed together. You expected resistance. You could work with resistance. You shifted tactics. “Then why agree to this interview at all if you’re not going to talk?”, you asked, meeting his gaze directly now, “You’ve avoided press for years. Why meet with me?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Just watched you. “Y/N I’m a big fan of your work.”, he said finally. Your breath caught just slightly. That wasn’t the answer you expected. “And?”, you prompted. “And you’re different.”, the words landed heavier than they should have. You frowned slightly, “Different how?”

“You don’t write for attention or drama.”, he said, “You write like you’re trying to understand something. Like you care about the story from the beginning not just the outcome.” Your pen stilled. That was accurate. Too accurate. A small shift happened in your chest. You leaned forward slightly, “Understanding requires truth. Something your organization isn’t exactly known for providing.” For a second, you thought you had gone too far but instead of irritation Yoongi smiled. Just enough to change the entire atmosphere between you. “Careful.”, he murmured, “That almost sounded like an accusation without proof.”

“Is it wrong?”, you challenged and for a moment, everything else, the lounge, the quiet music, the city beyond the glass windows, faded into the background. “Tell me.”, he said instead of answering, voice quieter now, “if you find the truth… what are you going to do with it?” The question threw you off. “That’s my job.”, you replied, “I publish it for public knowledge.”

“Even if it puts you in danger?”, he questioned. You felt uneasy but you nodded, “Yes.” Something in his expression shifted again, “You’re either very brave…or very reckless.”

He reached forward, slow, deliberate, and slid something across the table toward you. Your breath caught as you looked down. It was a file that was thin and unmarked. Your fingers hovered over it. “What is this?”, you asked cautiously. “Information.”, he shrugged. Your eyes snapped back up to his, “On Bangtan?” Another faint smile, “On some things you haven’t found yet.”

Your heart started to pound. This was it. A lead. Maybe the big one. Every instinct told you to be careful. Every ambition you had told you to take it. “Why give this to me?”, you asked. Because you knew nothing about this was free. Yoongi leaned back again, watching you with that same quiet intensity. “Because I’m curious.”, he said. Your brows furrowed, “About what?”

“You.”, he answered simply. Your stomach tightened. Your fingers closed around the file before you could second-guess it. This was what you came for. This was the story. You’d handle the rest later. You stood slowly, gathering your things, forcing yourself to stay composed even as something in the air felt different now. “Thank you for your time Mr. Min.”, you said. You turned to leave when you heard his voice, “Be careful with that. You don’t want someone dangerous coming after you.”

You paused. Glanced back over your shoulder. Yoongi hadn’t moved. But his eyes were still on you. “Information like that…”, he continued softly, “has a way of pulling people deeper than they intend.” A small chill ran down your spine, “I can handle myself.” For a second something almost dark flickered behind his gaze. Gone as quickly as it appeared. “I know.”, he said and that didn’t feel reassuring at all. You didn’t notice it at the time. The way this wasn’t just an interview. The way you hadn’t just gotten a lead but you had been chosen.

And as you stepped out into the city, heart still racing from the encounter, already planning your next move, Yoongi remained exactly where he was. Watching the space you left behind. Quiet. Certain. Like a man who had just set something in motion. Something that wouldn’t be easy to stop.

🐦‍⬛

You shouldn’t have come back to him. You knew that. You told yourself that at least six times on the ride over. Told yourself this wasn’t how you worked, that you didn’t meet sources twice without verification, without full control.

But the file…It was real. Every name, every transaction, every quiet connection you’d spent months trying to trace…it was all there. Which meant one thing. Min Yoongi wasn’t bluffing and if he wasn’t bluffing…Then why give it to you so easily?

That question sat heavy in your chest as you stepped into the same lounge as before, the same low lighting, the same quiet hum of a place that didn’t feel like it belonged to the world outside. He was already there. Same seat. Same posture. Same stillness that somehow made everything else feel louder. Your breath caught for just a second before you forced yourself forward. “You came back.”, he said, like it wasn’t a surprise. You slid into the seat across from him, placing your bag down carefully, “I had questions.” A faint shift at the corner of his mouth, “I assumed you would.”

“You gave me verified information on at least three major investigations.”, you said, leaning forward slightly, “Do you understand what that could do if I publish it?” His gaze didn’t waver, “Yes.” Your brows pulled together, “Then why?” There it was again. The question that didn’t have a clean answer. Yoongi watched you for a long moment , long enough that your pulse started to pick up under the weight of it.

Then, quietly he asked, “Did you read all of it?” Your stomach tightened, “yes.” A small tilt of his head, “And?” You hesitated because the truth wasn’t simple. “It doesn’t paint you as…careless.”, you admitted, “Everything is calculated like you knew exactly what you were doing every step of the way.”

Something about the way he looked at you, so calm, so matter-of-fact, sent a subtle chill down your spine. “You’re not worried about exposure?”, you pressed. “No.”, he shrugged, “Because you won’t publish it.” Your breath hitched. “And you’re so sure of that?”, you asked, trying to keep your tone steady. “I am.”, he nodded. Your fingers tightened slightly against the table. Silence hung between you because a part of you wanted to argue and another part, a quieter, more unsettling part wondered why he sounded so certain. You pushed past it. “I don’t work for you.”, you said firmly. He nodded, “I know.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”, you added and he smirked, “I know.” Your frustration spiked, “Then stop acting like you already know what I’m going to do!” Something flickered in his expression again. Not irritation. Not anger. Something…oddly warmer. “Alright.”, he said softly, “Then tell me…If you publish it,” he continued, “what happens next?” You opened your mouth and paused because you knew the answer. Investigations. Arrests. Chaos. Retaliation from people who would all be affected. People getting hurt. Maybe you. Definitely you. Your silence said enough. Yoongi didn’t push. He just watched you reach that conclusion on your own. Your jaw tightened, “That doesn’t change anything.”

“No.”, he agreed, “It just makes it harder.” Your chest felt tight. You hated this. Hated the way he wasn’t forcing you into anything, just laying things out until you had to face them yourself.

“You’re manipulating me.”, you said. He smirked his eyes not leaving yours, “Am I?…is it working?” Damn him. You looked away first. That was your mistake because the second you did the tension shifted. When you looked back he was leaning closer. Your pulse jumped. “Careful Y/N…”,he murmured, voice lower now, “You’re starting to hesitate.” Your heart pounded, “I’m thinking.” He leaned in even closer, “…About me.” It wasn’t a question.

Now there was no ignoring it. No pretending this was just an interview anymore. Something was shifting and you didn’t like how it felt or how much you didn’t want it to stop. And it didn’t happen all at once. If it did you would’ve seen it for what it was and pulled away before it got complicated. Instead it happened in pieces. Small ones. The kind you could justify.

The third time you met him, it wasn’t for an interview. Not officially anyway. You told yourself it was follow-up. Clarification because you needed more context. That was all. But the second you sat across from Yoongi again it didn’t feel like work.

“Eat.”, he said pointing at the plate in front of you. You blinked, glancing down, “I didn’t order…” he cut you off, “I did. I know you left home without eating this morning.” You looked back up at him. It should’ve unsettled you that he knew that. It did but not enough to make you leave. That was the problem.

The fourth time he walked you out of your office. You hadn’t asked him to. He just showed up and did it. Side by side, quiet city air brushing against your skin as the night stretched around you. “You shouldn’t be out this late alone.”, he said. You scoffed lightly, “I’ve been doing this a long time. I can take care of myself.”, you added. “I’m aware.”, the way he said it. It didn’t sound like doubt. It sounded like he’d seen it. Tested it even. Your pulse skipped.

The fifth time…he touched you. Nothing dramatic. Nothing obvious. Just your wrist. Light. Brief. Enough to stop you mid-sentence. You looked down at where his fingers rested against your skin then back up at him.

He didn’t move right away. Didn’t apologize.Didn’t acknowledge it at all. Just watched you like he was waiting but you didn’t pull away.

After that, it got easier. Too easy. You started staying longer. Talking about things that had nothing to do with the article. Laughing at things he said. Forgetting sometimes, who he was supposed to be. The violence he was capable of. You also forgot who you were supposed to be. You told yourself it was strategy. Getting closer. Gaining trust. Getting the real story.

But late at night when you weren’t with him you found yourself thinking about the way his voice softened when he said your name. The way his attention never wavered. The way you felt seen and…safe with him. And that was dangerous. More dangerous than anything in that file. Because you didn’t notice the shift in him. Not right away. Not when he started choosing where you met or when your schedule somehow always aligned with his without you telling him or when he began deciding things for you instead of asking. It was subtle. Wrapped in concern. In care. In something that felt a little too close to affection.

“You trust me.”, he said one evening as you looked out over the water from the pier. The words came out of nowhere, quiet between you as the city lights flickered. You hesitated, “I don’t trust easily.” A small hum, “But you trust me.”, he said again. You looked at him and realized you didn’t have an immediate argument.

Your silence stretched and that was all the answer he needed. Something in his expression softened. Like that confirmation meant more than it should have. “Good.”, he said quietly. Your chest tightened. You didn’t ask why or what he meant. Maybe you should have because by the time you started to feel it, that pull toward him, that warmth, that dangerous comfort, he was already past that point. Already deeper. Already thinking further ahead than you were. Further than you could even imagine.

And somewhere, without you realizing it this stopped being your story and started becoming his. You didn’t mean to end up there. That’s what you told yourself later, over and over again. That it was coincidence. That it wasn’t intentional. But deep down…you knew that wasn’t true.

”I want you to see something.”, Yoongi had said earlier that evening, voice quiet, unreadable as always. You should’ve said no but you didn’t.

The car ride had been silent and when the gates finally opened your breath stopped. The mansion wasn’t just big. It was imposing. Modern architecture carved into the dark, glass and stone reflecting the dim glow of the surrounding lights. It didn’t feel like a home. It felt like a statement. Like power, built into walls.

“You live here?”, you asked, trying to keep your voice steady as you stepped out of the car. Yoongi glanced at you, “Sometimes.” Inside your footsteps echoed faintly as you followed him in, your senses sharpening with every step. “You’re tense.”, he noted. “I’m in an infamously violent mafia leader’s house.”, you shot back, “What did you expect?” A faint flicker of amusement crossed his face, “That’s fair.” The words barely left his lips before you heard it, “You actually brought her HERE?”

Your body stiffened. You turned and suddenly you weren’t just with him anymore. You recognized all of them. Kim Seokjin stood near the staircase, arms crossed, expression unreadable but not hostile. Just assessing. Behind him, leaning casually against the railing was Kim Taehyung. His gaze met yours immediately like you were something interesting he’d just been handed. “Well...”, Taehyung hummed softly, tilting his head, “She’s definitely prettier than I expected.”

Your stomach flipped and your pulse spiked.

This was...Bangtan.

More movement caught your attention. Footsteps and voices and then Park Jimin appeared, soft features masking something much sharper underneath. His eyes landed on you and, unlike the others, there was no hesitation. “So you’re the journalist.”, he said quietly. Your throat tightened.“You’re making her uncomfortable.”, the voice came from behind them. Kim Namjoon stepped into view, eyes already scanning you like he was putting pieces together. “Relax.”, came from another voice. Jung Hoseok appeared with a grin that didn’t quite match the rest. “We’re not going to bite.”, he said, “Unless you give us a reason to.” Your stomach dropped.

“And here I thought we’d learned to be nicer.”, the last voice came from the back of the room. Jeon Jungkook sat sprawled across the couch, phone in hand, barely looking up. “We really have been trying to be more welcoming.”, he said, glancing at you now. Your chest tightened because that wasn’t possible. You hadn’t told anyone where you were tonight. Your gaze snapped to Yoongi.

He didn’t react. Didn’t deny it. Didn’t explain. “You didn’t bring me here just to meet them.”, you said quietly. Finally his attention shifted fully back to you. “No.”, he responded. “Then why am I here?”, you asked. “Because it was time.”, he said simply like it answered everything. You didn’t ask for clarification because suddenly you weren’t sure you wanted the answer.

Dinner that evening was worse. It was too normal and that was the problem. Conversation flowed. Food was served. Glasses clinked. And all of them, all seven men, acted like this wasn’t completely insane. Like you weren’t sitting at a table with the most dangerous men you’d ever researched.

Jin placed food on your plate and encouraged you to eat like it was routine. Hoseok asked you about your work with a smile like he was genuinely interested. Namjoon corrected a detail in one of your articles with accuracy that made your stomach turn because there’s no way the average person would’ve known that. Taehyung watched you more than he spoke. Jimin sat just a little too close for comfort. Jungkook scrolled, while listening to everything anyway. And Yoongi, he barely spoke at all. But you felt him watching you the entire evening.

You didn’t realize how overwhelmed you were until you stood up. “I need some air.”, you muttered. No one stopped you. The hallway was quieter. Your footsteps softer now as you moved, trying to steady your breathing. This was too much. Too fast. Something wasn’t right. As you made your way back down the hallway you heard the voices. You froze.

“…you’re moving too quickly.”, Namjoon spoke. “I’m not.”, Yoongi said. Your heart stuttered. “Attachment changes variables.”, Namjoon continued, “You know that better than anyone.” There was a pause then Yoongi reasoned, “I’ve accounted for it.” Your pulse started to race.

“What’s the end goal here?”, Hoseok asked quietly. Yoongi spoke, “She stays,” he said, voice low, certain, “and she can’t leave.” Your stomach dropped. “That’s not an answer.”, Jimin murmured. Another pause followed and then Yoongi answered, “I’ll give her enough of a reason to stay.” Your breath caught. A soft exhale came from the side. “You’re obsessed with her.”, Taehyung said. The words settled heavy in the room. Yoongi didn’t react at first. Taehyung tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing just a fraction. “..I know.”, Yoongi said.

Everything in you went cold. Silence followed. No one laughed. No one dismissed it. Which meant they were taking it seriously. Which meant so was he. You stumbled back before they could see you. Heart pounding so hard it hurt. No. No, no, no…That wasn’t…He wouldn’t…But the way he said it…The way no one argued…Your chest tightened, panic rising fast and sharp. You had to leave.

You didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t go back. You ran out the door. Past the gates. Into the dark stretch of woods that bordered the property. Branches caught at your clothes as you pushed forward, breath coming in ragged bursts, your mind spinning. You stopped and leaned against a tree trying to catch your breath. You’d been so stupid. So blind. Every moment. Every look. He’d been playing you the entire time. Every touch. It wasn’t just care. It was controlled obsession.

“Y/N you shouldn’t run away at night.”, The voice cut through the dark like a blade. You froze. Slowly you turned. Min Yoongi stood just behind you like he’d known exactly where you’d go. Your chest heaved, “Stay away from me.” A tilt of his head, “I’m guessing you heard.” Your hands shook, “You’re insane.” He stepped closer, “You weren’t supposed to find out like that.” Your stomach twisted violently. “You were going to trap me.”, you said, voice breaking, “You were going to…”

“No I am going to.”, he corrected quietly. You took a step back, “I’m leaving.” He shook his head, “No…no you’re not.” Your pulse spiked, “You don’t get to decide that.” He smirked, “I already did the moment I saw you.” He took another step closer, “You don’t understand yet Y/N.”, he said softly, “This is better for you.”

“You don’t get to decide what’s better for me!”, you shouted feeling your frustration and fear rise. For the first time his expression shifted. It turned to something sharper and darker. “I do.”, he said and before you could react his hand caught your wrist. You struggled, panic surging but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how hard you fought. He didn’t even look strained.

“Let me go…”, you cried. “Y/N I can’t,” he shook his head as he began dragging you back through the route you’d already come from, “I won’t let you go…ever.”

The mansion loomed again before you knew it. The doors closing behind you with a final, suffocating weight as he pulled you back inside as your heart pounded and your mind raced and everything finally clicked into place you realized the truth you’d been too blinded to see before.

This was never an interview. Never a story. Never something you were in control of. It was always him. Always what he wanted. And what he wanted was you.

The rules started the next morning. Your door didn’t lock. It didn’t need to because when you tried to leave, there was always someone there. Usually Jimin. Sometimes Jungkook. Once, even Namjoon, quietly reading a tablet in the hallway like your freedom was just another variable he was monitoring.

“You’re not a prisoner.”, Jin had said gently when you snapped one morning. But you’d laughed at that because it was starting to feel like something worse than prison.

You still tried. You weren’t going to just disappear into this. Not into them. Especially not into Min Yoongi. That night, you waited until the house went quiet. You slipped into the office they hadn’t bothered to lock, either arrogance or trust, you weren’t sure anymore, and found what you were looking for.

Your laptop. Your notes. Your half-finished article. Your lifeline. Your hands shook as you connected the device Namjoon had carelessly left behind earlier. A mistake. Or a test. You didn’t care which.

You just needed one thing. To get it out. To get it to your boss. To make sure someone, anyone, knew what was happening here. Your fingers hovered over send. Just one click. That’s all it would take. But when you turned he was already there. Yoongi. Leaning against the frame like he’d been watching for a while.

“How long?”, you whispered. He sighed, “Long enough.” Your heart slammed. “You were letting me try anyway.”, you said slowly, “This whole time.” He nodded, “Yes.” Your stomach dropped, “That’s sick.”

“No.”, he corrected softly, “That’s called trust.” You let out a sharp breath, “You don’t get to call this trust.” He stepped closer to you. “You’re still here.”, he said. You tried to take a step back, “I’m planning my exit.”

“No Y/N.”, he chuckled, “No you’re not.”

“You don’t own me.”, you snapped. “You keep saying that.”, he said softly, “but I don’t think you believe it.” You should’ve moved. You should’ve screamed. You should’ve done anything but stand there and feel the space between you shrink.

“Yoongi you’re not thinking clearly.”, you whispered. He reached for you. His hand caught your wrist gently at first like he was giving you the chance to pull away. You didn’t. His eyes searched yours like he was still giving you time to stop it. You didn’t and when he kissed you it wasn’t a question.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It felt like something inside you stopped resisting. Like something you’d been holding together for too long finally cracked. You hated it but you wanted it. When he finally pulled back you were still there. His forehead rested briefly on yours but then he pulled away, “Not yet.”

Just like that the warmth of him disappeared, his hand slipping from your wrist like it had never been there at all. Confusion hit first. “What…”, you started, but your voice faltered. Yoongi watched you carefully, like he was measuring something.

“You should get some rest.”, he said quietly. Like nothing had just happened. Like he hadn’t just kissed you. Your chest tightened, “Th-That’s it?” He nodded, “For now.” Then he turned and walked away and you stood there with your heart racing, thoughts unraveling, something restless clawing at your chest. Because this wasn’t relief. It should’ve been but it wasn’t. It felt like something unfinished Like he’d started something in you and then left it there on purpose.

That night, you didn’t sleep. Every time you closed your eyes, you felt it again, the way he looked at you, the certainty in his voice, the way he stopped. Not because he had to. Because he chose to. Because he knew you would come to him instead.

The next morning felt worse and when you stepped into the kitchen you weren’t alone.

“You look like you didn’t sleep.”

Your head snapped up. Jimin leaned casually against the counter, watching you with that soft, unreadable expression of his. “I’m fine.”, you muttered. He hummed, unconvinced. Jimin pushed off the counter slowly, stepping closer. “You know when Yoongi decides something.”, he said quietly, “he doesn’t change his mind.” Your pulse quickened. “Well…I’m not something he gets to decide.”, you snapped. Jimin smiled faintly, “That’s where you’re wrong. You think this just…happened?”, he continued, “That you found him? That the interview was your choice? Y/N…He found you first.”

Your breath caught, “what?” Jimin’s eyes stayed on yours, “You were already on his radar before you even knew Bangtan was real.”, he said, “Your articles. The way you dig. The questions you ask. The pictures of you circulating the press.” Your chest tightened. “He likes things that challenge him. Who do you think has been protecting you all these years?”, Jimin added, “Y/N you weren’t an accident. He’s…he’s wanted you for a long time.”

Everything in you went still. “You should stop fighting it.”, he said, voice gentler now, “It’ll be easier for you.” You let out a shaky breath, “You’re telling me to just…let him have his way?” Jimin stepped closer again. “I’m telling you.”, he said quietly, “that you’re already halfway there.”

You avoided Yoongi after that. At least you tried to but avoidance didn’t mean distance. Not in this house because no matter where you went you felt him.

Later that day you found the study dimly lit, quiet except for the soft rustle of paper. Namjoon looked up when you entered. “You shouldn’t be here.”, he said calmly. Namjoon set the papers down slowly, “You should leave.” Your head snapped up, “What?” He held your gaze. “You should leave.”, he repeated. “You’re worried.”, you said slowly. He took a moment then nodded, “Yes…For all of us. He doesn’t do this.”, Namjoon continued, “He doesn’t normally…fixate on things…especially people.” You scoffed, “You’re talking about me like I’m a problem.”

“You are.”, he said simply. That stung more than you expected. “Whether you want to be or not. He’s already changing things.”, Namjoon added, “Adjusting plans. Taking risks he wouldn’t normally take and if that continues…”, he said quietly, “it won’t just affect him.”

Your breath slowed, “What are you saying?”Namjoon didn’t look away. “I’m saying.”, he replied, “you need to decide what you are to him because if you’re nothing.”, he continued, “you need to leave before you become something that takes him down.”

“And if I already am something?”, you asked. Namjoon didn’t hesitate, “Then it’s already too late.” That should’ve been it. That should’ve been the moment you pushed away. Ran. Fought harder but instead you found yourself standing outside his door. Breathing uneven.

Heart racing. Your hand hovered then knocked.“Come in.”, his voice came muffled from behind the door. He didn’t look surprised when you stepped inside. “You did that on purpose.”, you said, voice quieter now, “Last night.” His gaze didn’t waver. “You wanted me to.”, you started but he cut you off, “Come to me,” he finished for you, “And you did.” Your heart pounded. “I hate that you’re right.”, you whispered. Something in his expression softened. Just slightly and this time when he reached for you he didn’t hesitate.

The mansion, which had once seemed like a cold architectural marvel, was starting to feel like a living organism, one that was reshaping itself around your presence. You found the first sign of it on your bed. A box, wrapped in heavy cream-colored paper. Inside was a silk dress in a deep emerald green. Your breath hitched. It was the exact dress you had mentioned liking in a social media post from six years ago, a post buried under thousands of words and photos of your life. You shoved the box aside, a cold shiver racing down your spine. They weren't just watching you now. They had backtracked through the ghost of your entire life.

In the hallway, you nearly collided with Jin. He looked impeccable, the sunlight from the arched windows catching the sharp line of his shoulders. He simply tilted his head, eyes sweeping over you with an unnerving, brotherly warmth. "The emerald will suit you.”, Jin said, his voice smooth. It’ll look better on you than it did in the shop window. Dinner is at seven, Y/N. Don't be late. Yoongi hates cold food and wasted time."

"I didn't ask for a dress.”, you snapped, your voice trembling. “You didn't have to.”, Jin replied, his smile widening just a fraction, “We know what you need before you do. It’s better that way." Seeking an exit, you retreated toward the sunroom, hoping for a breath of air. Instead, you found Hoseok. He was hunched over a stack of papers, a phone buzzing beside him. When he looked up, the "Sunshine" persona you’d seen at dinner flickered and died. His expression went flat, his eyes turning into two polished stones.

"You're the talk of the house, Y/N.”, Hoseok said. The cheerfulness was gone, replaced by a low, rhythmic cadence that sounded like a warning, “Just a word of advice…don't confuse Yoongi's patience for a lack of resolve. He’s letting you wander because he likes the chase." He stood up, walking toward you until he was inches away, “If you try to run again, I’m the one he sends to bring you back and I promise you…”, he leaned in, his voice a lethal whisper, "I am much less gentle than he is. Don't make me have to be the bad guy."

You backed away, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. You turned a corner, looking for a way to the gardens, but ended up in a room lined with monitors. Jungkook sat there, bathed in the blue light of the screens. He didn't jump when you entered. He didn't even look away from the monitors. “You have a habit of biting your lip when you're thinking.”, he noted. You froze. On the center screen, a high-definition feed showed you standing exactly where you were, looking at him. Other screens showed you sleeping at 3:00 AM, pacing your room, even the moments you had been sure were private. “It's cute.”, Jungkook continued, finally turning his chair. His youth was a mask for the cold efficiency in his eyes, “But there are thirty-two cameras on this floor alone. Motion sensors in the woods. Biometrics on the gates. There is no 'out,' Y/N. There’s just here. You might as well get comfortable."

By the time you reached Yoongi’s office, you weren't just angry you were vibrating with a sense of profound violation. The air in the room was thick with the scent of sandalwood and whiskey. Yoongi was behind his desk, the light of a single lamp casting half his face in shadow.

"Is this what you do?", your voice cracked, slicing through the silence, “You find something you think is beautiful and you put it in a cage until it forgets how to fly?" Yoongi didn't look up from his ledger. He turned a page slowly, his movements deliberate, “I’m not keeping you in a cage, Y/N. I’m building you a fortress."

"A fortress has the guns pointed out.”, you spat, “Yours are pointed at me."

"The world out there is loud…messy, and dangerous.”, he said, finally closing the book. He stood up, the movement fluid and predatory, “People would kill for what’s in that brain of yours. Your editors would sell you out for a headline. Your 'sources' would silence you the moment you became a liability if it wasn’t for me. Here...here, you’re the only thing that matters. My only priority. My precious…little…bird.”

"You're talking about protection, but this feels like a life sentence.”, you said, backing up as he rounded the desk, “You've stripped away my life. My job, my friends, my identity."

"I didn't strip it away. I replaced it with something permanent.", he kept coming, his gaze heavy and dark, pinning you in place, “You spent your life chasing stories that end in a week. I'm giving you a story that never has to end."

You hit the glass of the window, the coldness of it pressing against your back. Yoongi stopped inches away, his presence overwhelming. “And what if I don't want to be a character in your story?", you whispered, your breath hitching. "Stop looking at the door, Y/N," he murmured, leaning in until his forehead almost touched yours. “You’re a monster.”, you choked out, even as your heart betrayed you, leaping at his proximity.

Yoongi’s hand came up, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw with terrifying tenderness. He leaned into your ear, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that made your knees weak. “Maybe. But I'm the monster that’s keeping you alive and I'm the only one who knows exactly how you like your coffee in the morning. I'm the only one who knows you cry when you're frustrated but refuse to let anyone see it.", he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, “Does a monster care if you're well-rested? Does a monster care if you ate or when your head hurts? Does a monster notice the way your pulse jumps when I touch you like this?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He didn't have to. The silence in the room was the loudest thing you’d ever heard, a heavy, suffocating blanket that told you the truth. The journalist in you was dead. The prisoner was waking up. And the terrifying part was how much she wanted to stay.

Outside these walls, you had a deadline. You had a landlord, a best friend who came over every Sunday, and a desk at the newsroom littered with half-empty energy drinks.

Someone had to be looking for you. You were a high-profile investigative journalist. You didn't just drop off the face of the earth without a notice.

You found Taehyung in the gallery on the second floor, staring at a canvas of swirling oils. He didn't turn when you approached, but his voice drifted toward you, smooth and haunting. "You’re thinking about the world outside.”, he said. It wasn't a question. “My editor.”, you began, your voice sounding thin even to your own ears, “My family. My friends. The police. You can't just erase a person, Taehyung. I know people are looking for me." Taehyung finally turned. He looked at you with a sort of tragic pity, the kind one might give a bird hitting its head against a window. He reached into his silk pocket and pulled out a phone, your phone.

"That’s been taken care of.”, he said simply. He tapped the screen and held it out. You saw your own social media feed. A post from two days ago, long after you’d been brought here, stating you were taking an indefinite sabbatical to travel and deal with "personal burnout." There were emails sent from your official account to your boss, resigning with a level of professional detail that only you could have written. Even a text to your friend, mentioning a last-minute flight to a remote retreat unsure of when or if you’ll be back.

"I didn't write those.”, you whispered, your blood turning to ice, “How…who wrote those?" Taehyung tilted his head, a dark, enigmatic smile playing on his lips, “We have people who specialize in nuances, Y/N. Your tone, your syntax, your common typos. To the rest of the world, you aren't missing. You’re just…gone…by your own choice.”

"You killed me.”, you breathed, “Without even shedding blood, you killed my life."

"No.”, Taehyung corrected, stepping closer to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was light, but it felt hot like a brand, “We just cleared the noise so you could focus on what’s important. Yoongi is waiting for you in the dining room. Don't keep him waiting too long and wear the green dress. He’s been…restless." He didn't elaborate on what "restless" meant, but as he walked away, you felt the weight of his words. You weren't a missing person. You were a ghost of your former self.

🐦‍⬛

After that, Yoongi’s obsession was no longer a subtle undercurrent. It had become the atmosphere of the house itself. He no longer spent his nights in the office. He spent them in the doorway of your room, watching you sleep. He didn't ask if you wanted to join him for lunch. He simply took your hand and led you there, his grip possessive and unyielding.

One evening, the weight of it all, the digital erasure of your life, the constant surveillance, the suffocating proximity boiled over. You were in the library, and Yoongi was seated on the couch, a book forgotten in his lap as he simply tracked your movements across the room. "Stop it!", you shrieked, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. "Stop looking at me like I'm your prey to catch!"

Yoongi didn't flinch. He stood up slowly. “I want to go home.”, you sobbed, the fight suddenly draining out of you as you slumped against a bookshelf, “I want my messy little apartment. I want my boring life. I want to be a person again." He was in front of you in an instant. He didn't just grab you. He did something worse. He wrapped his arms around you in a hold so steady, so grounded and warm, that your body instinctively sagged into him.

"You were never just a person to me.”, he murmured into your hair, “You were the only one who saw through the smoke. You’re the only one who actually knows me." This was the torture, the duality of him. He was the man who had stolen your freedom, the criminal leader who had systematically deleted your existence from the outside world. But he was also the only man who had ever looked at you and seen the entirety of your soul.

Your hands came up, hovering between his chest and the air. You wanted to shove him away, to claw at his face and run until your lungs burst. But as his heart beat against yours, steady, calm, certain, your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt instead.

"I hate you.”, you whispered into his chest as you breathed in the scent of his skin. “I know.”, he replied, his arms tightening around you, pulling you so close there was no room for air, let alone escape, “But you’re still mine."

You hated that he was right. You were terrified of the abyss he represented, but in this strange, gilded prison, he had become your only anchor. You were caught in a horrific loop: the more he took from you, the more he became the only thing you had left.

"Look at me.”, he commanded softly. You lifted your head, eyes blurred with tears. Yoongi’s expression wasn't cold anymore. It was burning, a quiet, obsessive fire that promised to consume both of you.

"You can try to run.”, he said, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, “You can fight me, you can scream, you can hate me until it’s the only thing you feel. But at the end of every day, you will be here…With me. Because I have spent my entire life building a world that no one can touch and I built the center of it just for you."

He leaned down, his lips ghosting over yours and for a split second, you didn't feel like a prisoner. You felt like a queen in a kingdom of shadows and that was the most dangerous truth of all.

This time the kiss didn’t feel like a question anymore. It felt like an inevitability. Like every conversation, every look, and every carefully placed moment had been a funnel, narrowing the distance between you until there was nowhere left to go but forward… or under. Your hands pressed weakly against his chest, a reflex, a dying reminder that you should resist. But he didn’t rush you. Yoongi didn’t just take, he waited. His lips barely brushed yours, his breath warm and steady, as if he already knew the outcome. He knew you better than you knew yourself.

“Tell me to stop.”, he murmured against your mouth. You opened your lips to do just that, but nothing came out. Only a quiet, broken sound not a protest, but an invitation.

That was all it took. His hand slid up your neck, fingers threading through your hair to anchor you. The kiss deepened not frantic or messy, but controlled. Possessive. Your breath caught, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt as something inside you unraveled. You weren't cracking or wavering anymore. You were breaking.

“You’re shaking.”, Yoongi murmured. His voice was quieter now, but no less certain. “I should be.”, you whispered. His gaze softened, but the unwavering intent underneath didn't budge, “You’re still here.”You hated how much that mattered. You hated that he was right. When your silence stretched too long, his fingers brushed your cheek, slow and almost gentle.

“Do you understand what that means?”, he asked. Your brows pulled together, “That I made a mistake?” A faint, amused exhale escaped him, “No.” His thumb dragged across your lower lip, his eyes following the movement as if he were marking territory, “It means you’ve already chosen me.”

“That’s not…”, you started but he cut you off, “It is.” Not harsh, not loud. Just final, “You can keep fighting it if you want, but your body doesn’t lie to me.” He stepped closer, backing you up until you hit the edge of the desk. Trapped by the sheer weight of him.

“Yoongi…”

His hand slid to your waist to steady you. He didn't wait for permission this time. He simply decided you needed him. “Y/N you feel it too.”, he said. It wasn't a question. Then something in his mind finally clicked into place. His hand moved from your waist, traveling with agonizing slowness until it rested low against your stomach. Your eyes snapped to his. The air in the room felt pulled from your lungs, “Yoongi…?”

“You don’t understand yet.”, he murmured, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles against the fabric of your clothes. It was the touch of someone imagining a future that hadn't happened yet but one he had already decided was inevitable.

“Understand what?”, you questioned. “When I decide something.”, he said, his voice dropping into a low, steady register, “I don’t do it halfway. I don’t bring people into my life unless they’re staying.” You shook your head, “I didn’t agree to stay.”

“You did. You just don’t want to admit it yet.”, his hand pressed firmer against your stomach. “You seem to think this is temporary.”, he said softly, “You think eventually you’ll leave, go back to your life, write your story but that’s not how this ends.”

“Then how does it end?”, you whispered. He looked at you and the obsession in his eyes had been replaced by a terrifying certainty. “You stay.”, he said simply, “Here…with me…forever.”

“That’s not an ending.”, you said. “For you…it is. For us…it’s a beginning.”, he smiled. The realization hit you in waves, cold and heavy. He leaned in, his lips brushing your temple, “I’ve spent my life building a legacy that no one can take from me. Now, I’m building something that’s mine in a different way.”

“This isn’t love.”, you whispered, your voice barely holding together. He stilled for a second, his grip tightening, “Maybe not…yet, But it’s real.” You were still standing in his arms, breathing him in, letting him close even as he laid out the blueprints for your captivity.

His hand lifted from your stomach, but the implication remained, heavy and unspoken. He was a patient man. He had a plan, and he could wait for you to realize there was no world left outside of him. Fingers tilted your chin up, he caught your gaze one last time. “For now.”, he added softly, “I’ll let you catch up.” You eyed him, “Catch up to what?” A faint, knowing look crossed his face, “To the fact that you’re already mine…you’ve always been mine…even when you didn’t know it.” You didn’t argue. The worst part wasn't that he believed it, it was that, deep down, you were starting to believe it, too.

🐦‍⬛

The silence of your bedroom was no longer a comfort. You were staring at the ceiling, the ghost of his hand still heavy against your stomach. Every time you closed your eyes, you heard the finality in his voice. It was a terrifying thought, yet it hummed through your veins. He hadn't just made a claim. He had rewritten the air you breathed.

You threw back the covers. Your bare feet were silent on the cold floor as you walked down the hallway. You didn't knock. You didn't have to. When you pushed open the door to his suite, the room was bathed in the low, amber glow of a single lamp. Yoongi wasn't sleeping. He was sitting up in bed, a book discarded on the nightstand, his back against the headboard as if he’d been counting your footsteps from the moment you left your room.

He didn't look surprised. He looked satisfied. “You're late.”, he murmured, his voice a low grate that skipped down your spine. “I couldn't sleep.”, you said, your voice sounding small in the vastness of his space. You stayed by the door, your heart hammering against your ribs, “I kept thinking about what you said. About... everything."

Yoongi tracked you with his eyes, dark, predatory, and entirely unblinking. He shifted, pulling the duvet back in a silent invitation, “Come here." It wasn't a request. It was the natural conclusion to the path he had set you on. You moved toward the bed, every step feeling like a deliberate surrender of your will. When you reached the edge, he reached out, his hand wrapping around your wrist. His skin was burning hot compared to the chill of the hallway.

With a single, firm tug, he pulled you onto the mattress. You tumbled against him, the scent of expensive shampoo and something soft filling your senses. "You knew I’d come.”, you whispered, your face inches from his. “I told you.”, he said, his fingers trailing from your wrist up to your shoulder, his touch possessive and heavy, “Your body doesn't lie. You've been fighting a war that was over before the first shot was fired." He adjusted himself, pulling you flush against his side so that your head rested on his chest. You could feel the steady, terrifyingly calm thud of his heart. It wasn't racing like yours. His arm draped over you, his hand sliding down to rest once more over your stomach, the same spot as before. It felt like a seal. A promise.

"Is this it, then?", you asked, your voice trembling, “Am I just...yours now?" Yoongi leaned down, his lips brushing your ear, his breath a warm, haunting caress. “Like I said, you were always mine.”, he whispered, “Tonight is just the night you stopped pretending you had a choice. Sleep now Y/N. When you wake up, your world will be much smaller. Just this room. Just this bed. Just me."

He tightened his hold, anchoring you to him with a finality that left no room for escape. And as the darkness of the room swallowed you both, the most frightening part wasn't his obsession with you. It was the way you finally felt calm, pinned beneath the weight of his shadow.

🐦‍⬛

Moving forward Yoongi’s hand always found you in some way, your wrist, your waist, the small of your back, but lately…it lingered lower. Rested there. Like it belonged there at your stomach.

The first time you noticed it, you told yourself it didn’t mean anything. You were overthinking. You had been doing that a lot lately but then it kept happening. When he pulled you into him, his palm settled there without hesitation. When you got too quiet, too lost in your own head, he grounded you the same way, slow, steady pressure like he was reminding you to breathe. Like he was reminding himself of something.

You tried to ignore it. You tried to ignore the other things too. “You need to eat.”, he encouraged with the plate was already in front of you. “I’m not hungry…”, you tried but he cut you off, “You are.” His tone wasn’t harsh. You still picked up the fork. It kept going like that. Your coffee tasted different one morning. You frowned after the first sip, glancing down at it. “I made it how you like it.”, Yoongi said from across the room without looking up, “It’s just decaf. You need less caffeine.” Later, when you reached for a glass of wine at dinner, his hand closed around yours before you could lift it. “Have water instead.”, he murmured. You blinked, “Since when do you care so much about what I drink?” His gaze lifted then, “Since I decided I do.”

That was how he did it. Until you weren’t meant to hear it.

“…you’re adjusting too many variables at once.”, Namjoon’s voice said from the other room. “I’m not.”, Yoongi responded with an annoyed sigh. “You’re not giving her time to question it.”, Namjoon continued, “That’s what’s going to make her notice something is off.”

“She already is.”, Yoongi replied. Another voice this time, Jimin, quieter, “And if she figures it out?” Yoongi didn’t hesitate, “Good. I want her to.” Something cold slid down your spine. “That doesn’t worry you?”, Hoseok asked. Your chest tightened. “No because by the time she does…”, Yoongi continued, voice softer now, but somehow heavier, “it won’t matter anyway.”

The pieces started to fall into place. His hand on your stomach. The food. The control. The quiet insistence. The coffee. The wine. The way he watched you not just now, but like he was waiting for something. For you to realize. Your breathing turned shallow. No, that wasn’t…

Your stomach twisted, your hand instinctively pressing like you could feel something that wasn’t there…not yet at least. Or…

A sharp knock startled your thoughts.

“Y/N.”

You flinched. Yoongi stood in front of you now. Closer than he should’ve been. Closer than you realized he’d gotten. Your pulse spiked. “You’re stressing too much again.”, he said softly. You shook your head, stepping back, “What did you do?” His expression didn’t change, “What do you mean?” His hand lifted, hesitated for just a fraction of a second, then settled exactly where it always did. Your stomach.

For a moment, he just looked at you. Then, softer than you expected, “I’m taking care of you.” Your chest tightened painfully, “That’s not what this is.” A faint exhale left him, almost like disappointment, “You don’t understand yet.” Your head shook, faster now. His thumb moved, slow, absent, tracing a pattern against you like he had all the time in the world. Like this was already decided. “You always figure things out eventually.”, he murmured, “That’s why I chose you.” Your heart pounded so hard it hurt.

The next morning the mug barely touched your lips before it was gone. You blinked. Jimin stood beside you, turning the cup slightly in his hand, like he was inspecting it. “That’s not the decaf you’ve been drinking lately.”, he said softly after taking a sip. “I know what coffee it is, Jimin.”, your patience snapped thin, “Give it back to me.”

His gaze flicked up to yours then, “You should be more careful with what you put in your body.” Jimin set the mug down on the counter, out of your reach, “Yoongi doesn’t do things halfway. He wants a future with you Y/N.” Your jaw tightened, “That’s not news. He made that clear from the start.” A small, almost sympathetic smile touched his lips, “You don’t have to agree to anything he does. If anything…that just makes him want it more.”

🐦‍⬛

Weeks passed and Yoongi didn’t come around for the first time since you arrived. At first, it felt like relief. You could breathe without feeling watched by him. Move without that constant weight at your back. Think without his voice quietly unraveling every decision you tried to make.

But the house felt…wrong. Like something important had been removed and nothing had replaced it. You found yourself noticing things you hadn’t before. The way dinner felt longer without his hand reaching for yours underneath the table. The way no one filled the silence the same way he did.The way your thoughts drifted to him.

“He’s on a business trip.”, Jungkook said. You stood in the doorway of the monitoring room, arms crossed tight over your chest. Jungkook didn’t look away from the screens. “For how long?”, you asked. He shrugged, “He’ll be back soon.”

The night he finally came back, you didn’t hear the car. You felt it. A shift in the house. Quick movements. Strained voices. Your heart raced before you could stop it. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t care. Your feet moved anyway.

You saw the blood first. Dark. Stark against the polished floor. Your breath caught. Clothes were discarded in a pile. You followed the trail of blood. The door was half open. “Hold still.”, came Jin’s voice. You pushed the door open fully and froze. Yoongi sat shirtless in a chair, head tilted slightly forward, blood smeared across his skin, down his side, dripping onto the floor beneath him. Jin worked quickly, stitching a large wound just below his ribs like this was routine. Like this was normal.

Your stomach twisted violently, “Yoongi…” His head lifted and when his eyes found yours everything in your chest broke. Not fear or anger but relief. You didn’t think. You just moved. Your voice broke as you rushed forward, the world narrowing down to him, blood, too much blood to be okay. Up close, it was worse. His skin was pale under the dim light, a sheen of sweat clinging to him, jaw tight like he was holding himself together through sheer will. He didn’t look untouchable. He looked human.

“Careful Y/N.”, Jin muttered, not looking up as he worked, needle flashing under the light, “You’ll make this harder than it already is.” You barely heard him. “Yoongi…”, you whispered again, softer this time, like saying his name too loud might hurt him further

“Didn’t expect that reaction.”, Namjoon’s voice came from behind you, quieter, edged with something like surprise. Taehyung, leaned lazily against the wall and let out a soft hum. “I did.”, he said, a smirk pulling at his lips, eyes never leaving you. You ignored them. You couldn’t focus on anything but the way Yoongi’s breathing hitched, just slightly as Jin pulled the thread tight.

Your hand moved before you could stop it. You grabbed his. Warm. Slick. Blood-soaked. Your fingers tightened around his instinctively. His reaction was immediate. His hand closed around yours. His eyes flickered, just for a second, something softer breaking through the pain. “Stay still.”, Jin warned, sharper now.

Yoongi didn’t look away from you. Didn’t let go. It took longer than you expected. Every second stretching thin, taut with tension as Jin worked in silence, stitching him back together. By the time it was done, your fingers were still laced with his. You hadn’t even noticed.

“Done.”, Jin said finally, leaning back, “Try not to tear it open.” A dry exhale left Yoongi, but his grip on you didn’t loosen. Not even a little. “I’ll help him.”, the words left your mouth before anyone could offer. You felt it…everyone noticing and judging.

The bathroom filled with steam quickly, warm air curling around you as you guided him under the water. You expected resistance. You didn’t get any. Yoongi let you help him. Let you steady him. Let you touch him like this, careful, hesitant, your hands hovering before committing, like you were afraid he might break under them. You kept your movements light and gentle.

Avoiding the bandaged wound, your focus sharp, controlled, anything to ignore the way your chest tightened every time he winced. “Does it hurt?”, you asked quietly as you ran the cloth over a deep purple bruise. He smiled, “Not when you’re the one doing it.” You stilled for a second before continuing.

By the time you got him back to his room, exhaustion clung to him in a way you’d never seen before. You hesitated at the edge of the bed. His hand caught yours. Not forceful but firm enough to stop you, “Stay with me.” A faint, tired exhale left him, something softer than you’d ever heard before. “You won’t hurt me.”, he said quietly, “You’ll only make it better.” You hesitated again. His fingers tightened just slightly around yours, drawing you closer, “Come here.”

Slowly and carefully you climbed into the bed beside him. You kept space between you. At least you tried to but Yoongi closed it instantly. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you in against his side with a pained grunt, anchoring you there like it was the most natural thing in the world. His hand slid over you, settling like it always did. His grip tightened just slightly, his head dipping closer, his voice quieter now, roughened by exhaustion. Your fingers curled lightly into his shirt, careful of the bandages, your heart beating too fast for how still you were.

You should pull away. You should say something. You didn’t. Because for the first time since he brought you here you weren’t thinking about leaving. And that scared you more than anything else.

🐦‍⬛

Over the following weeks you did your best to help Yoongi heal. Bringing him coffee in the mornings, more blankets and pillows at his request, sometimes he simply wanted you to just lay down next to him.

On this afternoon you stood at the stove, stirring slowly, the soft sound of simmering filling the space. It felt…normal. Domestic in a way that didn’t belong in this house. You told yourself that’s all it was. Something to do. Something to keep your hands busy so your mind didn’t drift back to him.

It had been easier lately or maybe you’d just gotten used to it. The rhythm. The presence. The way Yoongi existed around you like something constant.

“You’re getting better at this.”, a voice said from behind you. Your hand stilled slightly. Jimin entered into the room. Leaning casually against the counter, watching you with that soft, knowing look that always felt like it saw a little too much.

“It’s just soup.”, you muttered, not looking at him. “Mmmhmm.”, he hummed, pushing off the counter slowly, stepping closer, “but you didn’t used to cook for him.” You shrugged lightly, “He’s injured and…people change.”

“Do they?”, he asked quietly. You finally glanced at him and that was your mistake. Because he was close now. His gaze flickered over your face, slower than it should have. “Y/N you look different lately.”, he added, voice softer now. Your pulse picked up slightly, “Different how?” A small smile tugged at his lips, “Softer…sweeter.” Your grip tightened slightly around the spoon, “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?”, he tilted his head, stepping just a little closer letting his hand barely touch your waist, “Or are you just getting comfortable here?”

“Get the fuck away from her.”, Yoongi’s voice broke through the air. Both of you stilled. He stood in the doorway. His gaze wasn’t on you. It was on Jimin.

Jimin didn’t move away right away. Yoongi stepped forward. Dangerous in a way that didn’t need volume to be felt. “Relax.”, Jimin shrugged, glancing at you briefly before looking back at Yoongi, “I was just talking to her.” You stepped in before it could escalate. “Stop it.”, you said quickly, setting the spoon down. Yoongi’s eyes shifted to you. The anger didn’t disappear. It focused. “What else did he say?”, he asked. You panicked, “It doesn’t matter.” Yoongi scoffed, “It does to me.” Behind you, Jimin let out a quiet exhale, “You’re overreacting. You’re too obsessed with her.”

That did it. Yoongi moved. Fast. The chair scraped violently against the floor as he shoved past it, crossing the space in two strides. Jimin straightened, but didn’t step back. Not until Yoongi grabbed him and held him up by his shirt collar.

“Yoongi!”, you rushed forward as the tension snapped completely, hands grabbing at his arm, trying to pull him back, “Stop!” It wasn’t a full fight. Not yet but it was close. “Get out.”, Yoongi said. Jimin held his gaze for a second longer then he smirked and stepped back towards the door, “Careful boss...”, he murmured, glancing at you one last time, “You’re going to scare her off with your violence.”

You followed Yoongi to the bedroom. The door slammed. You barely had time to turn before he was already pacing, running a hand through his hair, breathing uneven not out of exhaustion but out of restraint.

“Yoongi…”, you started but he cut you off. He held up a hand, “Don’t.” You froze. He turned on you then, eyes sharp, dark, something volatile sitting just beneath the surface, “Don’t tell me it was nothing.”, he snapped, “I saw him touch you.”

“It was nothing.”, you shot back, heart racing now, “You are overreacting.” A bitter laugh left him. “Overreacting?”, he repeated, stepping closer, “He was flirting with you…touching you!”

“So what?”, you challenged, even though your heart was beating way too fast, “I can handle myself.” He shook his head, “That’s not the point…You don’t belong to him.”

“I don’t belong to anyone.”, you said, quieter now but it didn’t come out as strong as you wanted it to. His expression shifted. He turned away suddenly, grabbing something off the dresser then throwing it. It shattered against the wall. You flinched, “Yoongi, stop!”

“I should go find him.”, he muttered, already moving again, already heading for the door, “I should make sure he understands…”

“No.”, you said firmly. You moved before you could think. Your hand caught his wrist. He stopped not because you were stronger but because it was you. “Don’t.”, you said, softer now, breath uneven, “You’re going to make this worse. Don’t let him win.”, you added quickly. That made him pause. Just slightly. Your grip tightened. “You’re better than this.”, you said, stepping closer, your voice dropping, “Don’t prove him right.”

His eyes dropped to your hand on him. Then back to your face. You didn’t think. You leaned in and kissed him. It worked immediately. The anger didn’t disappear but it redirected. His hand came up fast, gripping your jaw, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, rougher than before, edged with everything he hadn’t let out.

Your breath caught, fingers curling into his shirt as you held onto him, steadying him or maybe steadying yourself. But you weren’t pulling away. Not this time. Not when he stepped forward. Not when you stepped back. Not when your back hit the wall.

“Say it again.”, he murmured against your lips. Your mind spun, What?”

“That you don’t belong to anyone.”, his voice went low. His hand slid down, your waist, your hip, then lower. Resting there like it always did. “You don’t believe that.”, he said quietly. You swallowed. His forehead pressed lightly to yours. “Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispered.

Instead of answering, your hands moved. Your fingers shouldn’t have been shaking, but they were trembling with a frantic, electric energy as you fumbled with the heavy metal of his belt. The click of the buckle unlocking was deafening in the quiet of the room, a sharp, metallic punctuation mark at the end of your hesitation.

Yoongi didn't help you. He didn't move a muscle. He simply stood there, a predator allowing the prey to decide exactly how the hunt would begin. His dark eyes tracked every micro-movement of your hands, heavy with a hunger that made the air in the room feel thick, like you were breathing in heat.

“Y/N…”

Your name wasn't a question. It was a warning. It came out of his throat like crushed velvet and gravel, raw and dangerously low. You swallowed hard, your knuckles brushing the firm heat of his lower stomach. You didn't look away. “Don’t stop me.”, you breathed. That was the spark he was looking for. His hand lashed out, fingers tangling deep into the hair at the nape of your neck with a bruising grip. He jerked your head back, forcing your throat to arch, exposing the pulse jumping frantically beneath your skin.

“You think this is you taking control?”, he murmured, his face inches from yours, his breath smelling of dark coffee and something uniquely him, “You think you’re the one making a choice here?” Your body instinctively arched toward his.

A low, guttural sound vibrated in his chest, a growl of pure, unadulterated want. The kiss wasn't a meeting of lips. It was a collision. It was a violent reclaiming of territory. He stayed true to his word and there was no holding back. His tongue invaded your mouth with a possessive rhythm, tasting of desperation and years of suppressed need. His other hand found the small of your back, crushing you against him until you could feel the hard, unmistakable ridge of his arousal pressing into your thigh.

You let out a broken moan, your fingers clawing at the fabric of his shirt, desperate to get closer, to bridge the impossible gap between your skin and his. He tore his mouth away, trailing wet, biting kisses down the line of your jaw to the sensitive dip of your collarbone. “You don’t get to start something like this.”, he ground out against your skin, his teeth grazing your pulse point, “and expect me to be gentle. I’m going to ruin you for anyone else. You understand me?”

“I’m not asking for gentle.”, you choked out, your head falling back as his hand slid beneath your clothes, his palm searingly hot against your bare skin. He didn't waste another second. In one fluid, powerful motion, he hoisted you up. Your legs instinctively locked around his waist, the friction of your bodies sending a jolt of pure fire through your core. He slammed you back against the bed.

His hands were everywhere mapping you, claiming you, stripping away the last barriers of fabric with a frantic, focused intensity. When his hand finally slid between your thighs, finding you slick and aching for him, your breath hitched into a high, thin silver of a sound.

“Look at me.”, he commanded, his voice a rough vibration against your ear. You opened your eyes, blurred with heat, to find him watching you with a terrifying level of certainty. He looked like a man who had finally found the one thing he was allowed to destroy.

“You feel that?”, he whispered, his fist guiding him to you, moving with a slow, agonizing pressure that made your hips buck involuntarily, “That’s me. That’s all you’re ever going to feel.” He didn't wait for an answer. He took what you offered with a raw, primal hunger that left you shattered.

The rhythm between you had shifted from a controlled burn to a total inferno, the air in the room charged with the scent of salt and exertion. Yoongi’s composure, usually his greatest weapon, was fraying at the edges. Every time your hips arched to meet him, he let out a sound that was less like a man and more like a starving animal finally being fed.

He was deep inside you now, his forehead pressed against yours, sweat dripping from his chin onto your chest. His movements were no longer calculated. They were frantic, driven by a primal desperation that seemed to surprise even him. His hands, once possessive and firm, were now clutching at you as if he were drowning and you were the only thing keeping him afloat.

"Y/N.”, he choked out, his voice breaking, stripped of its usual smooth authority, “My beautiful little bird.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in jagged, ragged hitches. He shuddered violently, his body locking up as he was close to reaching his peak and in that moment of total vulnerability, the filter between his darkest thoughts and his tongue simply snapped. "I’m gonna get you pregnant.”, he rasped, the words tumbling out raw and unfiltered, vibrating against your collarbone, “I’ve thought about it every goddamn night since I first saw you. I think about coming home and seeing you heavy with me. Swollen and beautiful because of me. I've gotten off to the thought of it so many times I've lost count."

He let out a sharp, fractured breath, his grip on your hips tightening until it would surely leave marks, “I want to fill you up so deep you can't ever walk away. I want to mark you from the inside out. You’ll be mine forever.” Even though you already had your suspicions, hearing the admission was startling, possessive, invasive, and objectively terrifying. It was a claim on your future, a desire to tether your biology to his forever. By all accounts, the sheer intensity of his fixation should have repulsed you. It should have sent a chill of fear down your spine to know he’d been privately obsessing over such a permanent surrender long before you ever met him. But as you looked up at his face, flushed, wrecked, and completely undone by his own craving of you, you felt a surge of heat that made your vision swim. The sheer, dark weight of his want didn't push you away, it pulled you under. The thought of him losing his mind to that fantasy, of him needing that level of permanence with you, turned your blood to liquid fire.

You didn't recoil. Instead, you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him back down into you, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back. "Then stop thinking about it and do it.”, you whispered, your voice a defiant, hungry challenge. A dark, predatory light flickered back into his eyes, the realization that you weren't afraid of his darkness, but welcomed it. With a low, guttural growl, he reclaimed your mouth, any trace of hesitation incinerated by the heat of your response. He spilled inside you with such force that you were sure he’d never recover.

In the aftermath Yoongi pulled the duvet over both of you, his movements uncharacteristically gentle now that the storm had passed. He pulled you back against his chest, his arm draped like a lead weight over your waist, his hand resting once more over your stomach, a silent, lingering reminder of the words he’d breathed into your skin moments before.

For a long time, the only sound was the rhythmic ticking of a clock and the steady thrum of his heart against your shoulder blades. "Y/N.”, he murmured. His voice was no longer a growl. It was soft, almost tentative. He pressed a kiss to the back of your head, “…I love you."

The words hung in the air, shimmering and strange. It was the first time the syllables had crossed his lips. It should have been the crowning moment of a romance, the final piece of a puzzle. Instead, you stayed silent, staring at the moonlight filtering through the heavy velvet curtains.

You thought about the life you had before the gravity of Min Yoongi and Bangtan pulled you out of your orbit. You thought about your press badge now likely buried at the bottom of a drawer, gathering dust. You thought about the thrill of the hunt, the late nights in the newsroom, the sharp, acidic taste of strong coffee as you chased a lead that could change the world. Your journalism career hadn't just ended. It had been dismantled, piece by piece, sacrifice at the altar of his need to keep you safe and to keep you his.

You felt him stiffen slightly at your silence, his breath hitching as he waited for the one thing he couldn't take by force. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of him, the terrifying safety of his embrace. The fire he had started in you earlier hadn't died. It had simply settled into a dull, permanent ache.

He had effectively erased the woman who hunted the truth, replacing her with a woman who waited to hear his key in the lock. Your ambition had been traded for his obsession, and your freedom for his "love." He shifted, his hand moving with a slow, deliberate possessiveness over your abdomen. The heat of his palm felt like a brand. You remembered the raw, desperate confession he’d made at the height of his pleasure, his craving to fill you, to tether you to him with a life you both shared.

In the quiet, you realized that fighting was no longer an option. To live in this house, under his shadow, meant total integration. If you were to be his, you would be his entirely. You would let the world forget your name while you carried his. You would give him the one thing that would ensure you never looked at the horizon again.

"I love you too, Yoongi.”, you whispered, the lie and the truth tangling together until they were indistinguishable. You turned in his arms, pressing your face into the hollow of his chest and felt his satisfaction radiate off him in waves. You made a silent, internal vow to stop fighting the inevitable.

He kissed your forehead, his touch reverent, unaware that he was witnessing the final death of your spirit. You were his prize, his most precious possession, kept in a room where the light was always perfect and the doors were always locked.

You were a bird in a gilded cage and as you closed your eyes, you finally stopped beating your wings against the bars. You simply tucked them against your sides, settling onto the velvet perch he had provided, and prepared to sing the only song he wanted to hear.

Now, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm amber light through your windows, a soft knock echoed through the apartment. Your heart skipped. You opened the door to find Yoongi standing there, still dressed in his work attire, tailored suit slightly loosened, tie absent, hair just a bit tousled as if he’d continuously run a hand through it on the drive over.

“Hi.”, he said, his voice gentler than usual. You nodded, “Hi…Come in.” He stepped inside, his gaze subtly scanning the familiar space before settling back on you. There was a quiet tension between you. It was anticipation mixed with uncertainty.

“Do you want something to drink?”, you asked more about stalling than necessity. “I’m okay.”, he replied. You gestured toward the couch, “Can we sit?” He nodded, taking a seat while you settled next to him leaving just enough space to feel both safe and intimate.

Sir Fuzzy Paws made a quick appearance rubbing up against Yoongi’s shins and releasing a loud purr, almost like his own thank you for paying the vet bill and the fancy food and toys. Yoongi reached down and gave him a few scratches behind his ear.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then you reached for the folded letter resting on the coffee table and held it up. “I got your invitation.”, you began, “Paris.” Yoongi watched you carefully, “And?”

“And I don’t understand your motives.”, you admitted, “I need to know what this really is before I even consider saying yes.” He leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees, “I meant what I wrote. No expectations. No arrangements. Just us.”

“That’s exactly what worries me.”, you said softly, “Because the last time we were involved, everything was clearly defined then too and we still ended up making a mess of everything.”Yoongi exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping briefly to his hands before returning to you, “I understand that.”

“Do you?”, you asked gently, “Because sometimes it feels like you hide behind grand gestures instead of saying what you actually feel.” The words hung in the air. He didn’t deny it. Instead, he offered a faint, almost self-conscious smile, “I’m not very good at that part.”

“At talking about your feelings?”, you asked. “At admitting them to myself or anyone else.”, he corrected quietly. Your heart tightened slightly at the implication.

“So why Paris?”, you pressed. He hesitated then answered, “Because I wanted a chance for us to figure out what this could be…without the complications, without the expectations of anyone else. I…enjoy being with you Y/N.”, his voice softened, “More than I probably let on.” It wasn’t a full confession, but it was the closest he’d come.

You studied him for a long moment before speaking again, “I’ll go to Paris with you.” Relief flickered across his features, but before it could fully settle, you added, “On one condition.” His brows lifted slightly, “Okay…I’m listening.” You took a steadying breath, “I want you to take me on three actual dates first.” He blinked, clearly caught off guard, “Dates?”

“Yes.”, you said, a small smile tugging at your lips, “Not extravagant trips or over-the-top gestures meant to impress me. No private jets or Michelin-star restaurants just for the sake of showing off.” A hint of amusement crossed his face, “You’re not a fan of those?”

“I didn’t say that. They’re…nice.”, you admitted, “But that’s not what I’m looking for. I want something real. Thoughtful. Personal. I want to see the effort you’d put in if money wasn’t the easiest solution. I want you to actually work for it.” His expression shifted from amusement to contemplation.

“Simple things.”, you continued, “Like a walk through a museum, cooking dinner together, a picnic in the park…something that shows you actually know me…that I can be more to you that just a pretty date whenever you feel like it.”

Yoongi leaned back slightly, processing your words. He hesitated and the hesitation didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your chest tightened, “If that’s not something you want, that’s okay. But then us…Paris…isn’t happening.” He stayed unnervingly silent. You began to rise from the couch, misinterpreting his silence as refusal, “Maybe this was a mistake.”

“Wait.”, his hand gently wrapped around your wrist, stopping you. You looked down at where he touched you before meeting his eyes. “Y/N I’m not hesitating because I don’t want to.”, he said quietly, “I’m hesitating because…I’ve never really done that before. It’s…it’s been a very long time since I even planned a date especially with someone that wasn’t a…well…you know...”

You softened slightly, “You’re a smart, strong, man Yoongi. You run a billion dollar company. I’m sure you can handle planning three little dates with little old me.” A small smile appeared on his lips, genuine and unguarded, “Three dates.” You nodded, “Three dates. If, after that, we both still want to go to Paris, then we go.” He considered it for another moment before finally extending his hand toward you, “Deal.” You glanced at his hand, then took it, shaking gently, “Deal.”

Instead of letting go immediately, his fingers lingered around yours, the moment stretching with quiet intimacy. “When’s our first date?”, he asked. A playful glint entered your eyes, “That’s for you to figure out.” He chuckled softly, a sound warm and rare, “I guess I have some planning to do.” You walked him to the door a few minutes later, the atmosphere between you noticeably lighter than when he’d arrived. As he stepped into the hallway, he paused and turned back to you. “Thank you,” he said, “For giving me a chance to do this right.”

Your heart fluttered, “Don’t thank me yet. You still have three dates to get through.” A smirk tugged at his lips, “I’m looking forward to it.” You watched as he walked down the hallway, a sense of cautious hope settling in your chest. For the first time, this didn’t feel like an arrangement. It felt like the beginning of something real.

The soft hum of the bookstore café was comforting in its familiarity, milk steaming, quiet chatter, the occasional clink of ceramic mugs, pages being flipped. It was a typical afternoon and you welcomed the routine. After everything that had happened, normalcy felt like a lifeline.

You were just wiping down the counter when the bell above the door chimed. You didn’t look up immediately, “Hi there! I’ll be right with you.”, you called, finishing your task before turning around.

And then you froze.

Yoongi stood just inside the entrance, dressed simply in dark jeans and a charcoal sweater. His hair was slightly tousled and a little shorter than the last time you saw him. In his hands were two paper bags from a local deli and a tray carrying drinks.

For a moment, the world seemed to quiet around you. “Hi.”, he said, offering a small, tentative smile. “Hi.”, you replied, still surprised, “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping you were on your lunch break.”, he said, lifting the bags slightly, “I brought food.” Your eyes flicked to the clock. As if on cue, your coworker leaned over behind you. “Perfect timing.”, she teased, “Go. I’ve got things covered.” You shot her a grateful look before stepping out from behind the counter.

A few minutes later, the two of you were seated at a small outdoor table just outside the café. The early afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the street and the atmosphere felt surprisingly relaxed. Yoongi handed you one of the bags. “Turkey and avocado on sourdough.”, he said, “And a strawberry lemonade. I remembered that’s your favorite.” You blinked, touched by the gesture, “You remembered?” He shrugged lightly, “I pay attention.”

You smiled softly as you unwrapped the sandwich, “This is really thoughtful, Yoongi. But just so we’re clear…” You met his gaze with a playful but firm expression, “This doesn’t count as one of the three dates.” A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes, “I know. This is just lunch.”

The conversation flowed easily as you ate, light, comfortable, and refreshingly normal. He asked about work, your coworkers, and the latest book you’d been reading. In turn, you found yourself asking about his week, noticing how he seemed more relaxed after everything came out.

After a pause, Yoongi wiped his hands with a napkin and looked at you thoughtfully, “So are you free this Saturday morning?” You tilted your head slightly, “I think so. Why?”

“I’d like to take you on our first date.”,he said. You blinked, surprised, “Saturday morning?” He nodded. “That’s…unexpected.”, you admitted, “Most people go for dinner or something in the evening.” A small, knowing smile tugged at his lips, “Trust me.” Your curiosity piqued, “That’s not exactly reassuring.” You studied his expression, searching for clues, but he remained steadfastly calm. “What time?”, you asked. “I’ll pick you up at nine.”, he replied, “Dress comfortably.”

There was something undeniably intriguing about the way he said it confident yet gentle, as if he’d put genuine thought into the plan. “Alright.”, you agreed, a small smile forming, “Saturday morning it is.” Relief flickered across his face, quickly replaced by quiet satisfaction, “Good.”

You both stood as your lunch break neared its end. For a moment, there was a comfortable pause, neither of you quite ready to part ways. “Thank you for the lunch.”, you said sincerely. “Thank you for saying yes.”, he replied. As you turned to head back inside, he called your name softly. You glanced over your shoulder. “I’m looking forward to it.”, he said. Your heart fluttered at the sincerity in his voice, “Me too.” With that, you returned to the café, unable to suppress the smile lingering on your lips.

As you resumed your work, anticipation began to build. For the first time in a long while, the future didn’t feel uncertain. It felt exciting.

Saturday morning arrived with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. You stood in front of your mirror, adjusting the sleeves of your sweater before slipping on a pair of comfortable jeans and sneakers, just as Yoongi had instructed. Jimin, who had insisted on staying over the night before “for moral support,” watched you from the couch with narrowed eyes. “You’re smiling like an idiot.”, he noted. “I am not.”, you protested, though the grin tugging at your lips betrayed you.

There was a knock at the door. “That’s him.”, Jimin whispered, “If he hurts you again…I won’t be afraid to leave some strongly worded reviews about each company he owns.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”, you teased, heading to the door. When you opened it, Yoongi stood there dressed casually in dark jeans, a soft blue flannel shirt layered over a black T-shirt, and a pair of sneakers. In his hands, he held two coffees. “Good morning.”, he said, offering you one, “Vanilla latte.”Jimin peeked around the corner, giving Yoongi a scrutinizing once-over before offering a curt nod, “Bring her heart back in one piece.”, he said. Yoongi suppressed a smile, “I promise.”

The drive was comfortable and filled with easy conversation. When Yoongi pulled into a bustling parking lot, you glanced around at the colorful tents and cheerful crowds. “A farmers market?”, you asked, pleasantly surprised. He nodded, looking slightly nervous, “When we were on that vacation I heard you mention to Hana that you loved them but hadn’t had the chance to go in a while. I thought it might be a good place to start.” Your heart melted a little, “It’s perfect.”

You spent the morning wandering through rows of stalls, sipping your coffee as you browsed fresh produce, homemade jams, and artisanal goods. Yoongi listened attentively as you excitedly pointed out different items, occasionally purchasing things you showed interest in, though he was careful not to overdo it.

At one stall, you sampled honey infused with lavender. “This is amazing.”, you said, eyes lighting up. Yoongi tasted it as well, nodding thoughtfully, “Perfectly sweet.”

As you continued walking, the sound of soft bleating drew your attention to a small petting area nearby. “Can we?”, you asked, already knowing the answer. Yoongi glanced at the enclosure filled with pigs and goats and sheep, looking mildly apprehensive, “I don’t see why not.”

Inside, you happily knelt to pet a gentle goat while Yoongi lingered a safe distance away. That was when a particularly enthusiastic sheep with a fluffy white coat and a pink ribbon around her neck began eyeing him.

A sign nearby read: “Petunia – Very Friendly!”

“You should pet her.”, you encouraged. Yoongi crouched cautiously, extending his hand, “Hey there…”

Without warning, Petunia let out an excited bleat and lunged forward, attempting to nibble at the paper bag Yoongi was holding. He stumbled back in surprise, “Whoa! hey!” You burst into laughter as he narrowly avoided being trampled on, scrambling to maintain his balance while the sheep persistently followed him around the pen.

“Why is she so aggressive?” he exclaimed, trying to sidestep her. “Oh come on Mr. international playboy!”, you managed between fits of laughter, “I thought you’d be used to pretty girls chasing you around by now.” Yoongi was still backing around the enclosure barely missing a small toddler. “Yeah well women usually ask for permission before they bite me.”, he said while aggressively handing the sheep one of the carrots from his bag. A nearby farmer chuckled, “Looks like Petunia’s got herself a little sugar daddy there.” You nearly choked.

Yoongi finally escaped the enclosure, slightly disheveled but unharmed, while you wiped tears of laughter from your eyes. “I can’t believe you’re laughing at my near-death experience.”, he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. He shook his head, a soft laugh escaping him, “I’ll never live this down, will I?”

“Never.”, you confirmed with a grin. As the morning drew to a close, the enticing scent of fried dough led you to a food stall. “Funnel cake?”, Yoongi suggested. “Do you have to ask?.”, you replied enthusiastically.

You decided to share one, dusted generously with powdered sugar and covered in whipped cream. Sitting together on a nearby bench, you carefully tore off pieces, laughing as the powdered sugar inevitably ended up on your fingers and Yoongi’s dark jeans. At one point, you noticed a small smudge of sugar near the corner of his mouth.

“You’ve got something.”, you said, gesturing. He attempted to wipe it away but missed. Without thinking, you leaned in and brushed it off with your thumb. The moment lingered, both of you suddenly aware of the closeness. Yoongi cleared his throat softly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

“So…”, he began, his voice uncharacteristically shy, “how did I do?” You pretended to consider the question, tapping your chin thoughtfully, “Let’s see…thoughtful planning, minimal use of excessive wealth, successful navigation of artisanal honey, and only one near-fatal encounter with livestock.” He huffed a quiet laugh, “Sounds promising.” You met his gaze, your expression softening, “You did really well, Yoongi. I had a wonderful time.”

Relief and happiness flickered across his features, subtle but unmistakable, “I’m glad.” A comfortable silence settled between you as the bustling market continued around you. “Two more dates to go.”, he said gently. You nodded, smiling, “ I’m looking forward to them.”

As you walked back to the car, arms lightly brushing and laughter still lingering between you, it became clear that this wasn’t just the first step toward a possible trip to Paris. It was the beginning of something real, built not on arrangements or grand gestures, but on shared moments, genuine effort, and the quiet promise of what could be.

The moment you stepped through the apartment door, Jimin was already waiting. He was sprawled across the couch, a bowl of popcorn in his lap as if he was the one paying rent to live there. His head snapped up the second he saw you. “Well?”, he demanded, “How was it? And don’t you dare give me the short version. I want details.“

You laughed, slipping off your shoes and tossing your bag onto the chair, “It was really nice.” Jimin narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “Nice? That’s it? If you don’t elaborate immediately, I will assume something scandalous happened and you know I have a blabber mouth.”

“Relax.”, you teased, settling beside him, “He took me to a farmers market.” Jimin blinked, “Min Yoongi at a Farmers market? Are we sure this wasn’t a body double he hired?” You swatted his arm playfully, “He planned the whole thing. He remembered that I love them. We walked around, tried samples, bought some stuff, and even visited a petting zoo.”

“A petting zoo?”, Jimin leaned forward, suddenly invested, “Please tell me there was chaos.” You grinned, “A sheep named Petunia was in looooove with him.” Jimin gasped before dissolving into laughter, “I knew I liked sheep. Me and this Petunia could be good friends.”

“He looked so offended.”, you continued, laughing along with him, “But he was a good sport about it.” Jimin wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, “Okay, I’m actually impressed. That sounds…genuinely thoughtful.” You nodded, your smile softening, “It was. We ended the date sharing a funnel cake and he shyly asked how he did. I told him he did pretty well.”

Jimin studied your face carefully, his teasing demeanor fading into something more sincere, “You’re starting to fall for him again, aren’t you?” You hesitated before answering honestly, “Unfortunately I don’t think I ever really stopped.” He sighed, leaning back against the couch, “Well, as long as he keeps earning it, I suppose I can tolerate him.” A mischievous glint returned to his eyes, “So, when is Date Number Two?”

A few days later, Yoongi texted you: Are you free Saturday afternoon? You responded, I am. Should I wear comfortable shoes again? Yoongi: Not necessary this time. But maybe avoid caffeine beforehand.

Your curiosity was instantly piqued. When Saturday arrived, Yoongi picked you up right on time. He greeted you with a warm smile, dressed casually yet neatly, his usual composure tinged with a hint of nervous anticipation.

He drove you to a charming, locally owned coffee house tucked into a quiet street. Warm light glowed through the windows, and the rich aroma of freshly roasted beans greeted you the moment you stepped inside. You glanced around, puzzled but intrigued. “A coffee shop?”, you teased, raising an eyebrow, “You do remember I work in one, right?”

Yoongi’s confidence faltered almost immediately. “I know.”, he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, “I just thought…maybe this was a bad idea.” You quickly reached for his arm, offering a reassuring smile, “Hey, no. I’m actually excited. I love coffee. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Relief washed over his features. “It’s a small workshop.”, he explained, “They teach the process from bean to cup and how to identify different flavor notes.”

“That sounds amazing.”, you said sincerely. The workshop was intimate, with only a handful of participants gathered around a large wooden table. A knowledgeable barista guided the group through the journey of coffee explaining the origins of the beans, the roasting process, and how subtle differences in preparation could dramatically change the flavor.

You found yourself genuinely captivated, occasionally exchanging amused glances with Yoongi as you both attempted to swirl and sniff the coffee with exaggerated seriousness. As the session continued, you learned how to properly taste coffee, slurping it to aerate the liquid and identify its unique characteristics. The two of you compared impressions, sometimes agreeing and sometimes wildly off the mark.

“I taste caramel.”, you said thoughtfully. Yoongi took another sip, “I’m getting…coffee.” You nudged him playfully and laughed. At the end of the class, the participants were presented with a tasting flight of various coffees, each paired with small slices of freshly baked coffee cake. The warm, cinnamon-laced aroma filled the air as you and Yoongi settled at a small table together.

“This might be my favorite part.”, you admitted, taking a bite of the cake. “I had a feeling.”, he said, watching you with a soft smile. You sampled each coffee, discussing the subtle differences in flavor and aroma. The conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on childhood memories, favorite comfort foods, and the small details that made life meaningful.

After a comfortable pause, Yoongi spoke quietly, “I was worried this wouldn’t be enough. That it might seem too ordinary.” You met his gaze, your expression warm and sincere, “That’s exactly why it’s perfect. You didn’t try to impress me…you tried to connect with me.” He seemed to absorb that, a quiet satisfaction settling over him.

“So.”, he asked, echoing his question from the first date, “how did I do this time?” You pretended to consider it for a moment before smiling, “You did really well. I had a wonderful time.” Relief and happiness flickered across his features.

As you stepped outside into the soft glow of the evening, there was a lingering sense of closeness between you something deeper than before. These dates weren’t just leading toward Paris. They were building a foundation of trust and genuine affection.

“Two down.”, you said lightly. Yoongi nodded, a gentle smile playing on his lips, “One more to go.” And as he walked you to your door, you couldn’t help but feel that whatever happened next, this journey was already changing both of you in the best possible way.

Yoongi was out of the country on a business trip so it took a couple more weeks for your third date to come together. You checked your reflection one last time before grabbing your bag, your heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves. Yoongi had offered to pick you up, but you’d insisted on walking. You wanted the time to clear your head, to prepare yourself for whatever the evening might bring.

His address led you to the most affluent and exclusive building in the country, its sleek glass exterior glowing softly against the evening sky. The lobby alone felt like stepping into a luxury hotel, marble floors, soft lighting, and a quiet elegance that made you momentarily question whether you truly belonged there.

After giving your name to the concierge, you made your way up to Yoongi’s apartment. When the elevator doors opened, your heart began to race. You took a steadying breath before knocking. The door opened almost immediately. Yoongi stood there, dressed in a simple black button-down with the sleeves rolled up, looking both composed and slightly nervous. In his hands was a bouquet of flowers, not extravagant or showy, but delicate and beautiful, a mix of soft pastel blooms.

“For you.”, he said, offering them with a shy smile. “They’re perfect.”, you replied warmly, accepting them. Stepping inside, you couldn’t help but pause. His apartment was breathtaking with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, warm ambient lighting, and a minimalist design that somehow still felt inviting. Everything was carefully chosen, intentional, yet surprisingly personal.

“It’s incredible.”, you said, turning slowly to take it all in. Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed, “It’s just a place to live.”

“Just a place?”, you teased, “Yoongi, this place is bigger than my entire building.” He chuckled softly, “Do you want a quick tour?” You nodded, “I’d love that.” As he guided you through the apartment, you noticed subtle glimpses into his life, books neatly arranged on shelves, a piano tucked into the corner, and framed photographs scattered throughout. One picture in particular caught your attention.

You stopped abruptly, staring at it before a laugh escaped you. “Is that…?”, you began, trying to contain your amusement. Yoongi followed your gaze and immediately groaned, “Please ignore that.” But it was too late. The photo clearly showed a much younger Yoongi dressed in a French maid outfit, complete with an apron and headband, looking both mortified and proud. “Oh my god.”, you laughed, “Yoongi! Please explain!”

“I was really young.”, he muttered, his ears turning red, “And I really needed the money.” You tried and failed to suppress your laughter, “So you kept the picture?” He sighed, though a small smile tugged at his lips, “It’s a reminder of where I came from and that I survived it.” You nudged him playfully, “Well, I think it’s iconic fashion. Paris might not be ready for you.”

“Please never mention this again.”, he said, though his embarrassment only made the moment more endearing. “No promises.”, you replied with a grin. “This and Petunia are staying in my memory forever.” Shaking his head, he led you into the kitchen and you stopped short.

The countertops were filled with an impressive spread of carefully prepared dishes, fresh ingredients, and candles casting a warm glow over the space.

“Yoongi…this is incredible.”, you gasped. He shrugged modestly, “I wanted to cook for you.” You smiled softly, “You know, the first time we spent an evening together and I cooked for you, I made a simple spaghetti dinner.”

“I remember.”, he said immediately, his gaze warm, “I’ve been thinking about that spaghetti ever since.” Your heart skipped at the sincerity in his voice.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter, shared memories, and quiet moments of understanding. Yoongi moved around the kitchen with surprising ease, serving each dish with careful attention. It wasn’t just the food that made the evening special it was the intention behind every detail.

For dessert, he presented a rich chocolate tart, its glossy surface catching the candlelight. “You made this too?”, you asked. He nodded, “I may have practiced a few times this past week. Jungkook definitely didn’t seem to mind being the Guinea pig.”

“It’s perfect.”, you said after the first bite, savoring the decadent flavor, “You’re setting the bar incredibly high.” After dinner, Yoongi insisted on taking you home. The night air was cool and quiet, the city lights shimmering around you as he drove with the windows down. When you finally reached your door, neither of you seemed quite ready for the evening to end. “Thank you.”, you said, turning to face him, “For everything. Tonight was…really special.”

“I’m glad,” he replied. A brief silence settled between you, charged with unspoken emotion. Yoongi hesitated, as if debating with himself. Then, before he could overthink it, he stepped closer and leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to your lips.

Surprise flickered through you, but the warmth of the moment quickly replaced it. He pulled back almost immediately, concern crossing his features. “I’m sorry.”, he said softly, “I shouldn’t have…”

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you reached for him, closing the distance and kissing him again this time with certainty. The kiss deepened, filled with weeks of unspoken feelings and longing. His hand gently rested at your waist, pulling you closer as the moment grew more intense.

But just as the heat between you began to build, you gently pulled away, your breath slightly unsteady. “I’m…I’m not ready for that yet.”, you said softly. Understanding immediately replaced any disappointment in his expression. He nodded, offering a reassuring smile, “That’s okay. We’ll go at your pace.” Relief washed over you, “Thank you.”

“Good night Y/N.”, he said gently, turning to leave. He had only taken a few steps when you called out, “Yoongi?” He stopped and turned back, a question in his eyes. You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest, “ When do we leave for Paris?”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as if making sure he’d heard correctly. Then a slow, radiant smile spread across his face, one filled with hope, excitement, and something deeper.“Soon.”, he replied softly, “I’ll let you know all of the details tomorrow.”

And as he walked away, the promise of Paris no longer felt like an escape but the beginning of a new chapter for both of you.

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The way the lyrics curled around your worst thoughts and softened them. The way the melodies felt like breathing exercises you didn’t have to think about. The way his voice that was low, warm, a little rough seemed to say I hear you without ever needing to say it out loud. You needed all of that.

“Another one?”, you had asked once, trying to sound light even though your chest had gone tight for a completely different reason. He shrugged like it was nothing, like he hadn’t just taken your panic and turned it into something beautiful for you to have forever.

“You needed it.”, he said simply. And that was the problem because the more it happened, the more a quiet, ugly thought started to grow.

You needed it too much. You needed him too much.

It sat in the back of your mind for weeks. Every time your phone buzzed with a new demo from him. Every time he went out of his way to come see you and he casually asked, “You okay today?”He never looked tired of you. Never sounded annoyed. But anxiety didn’t need proof. It just needed a crack to slip into. And it did.

You’re a burden.

He has better things to do.

He’s writing songs for you instead of songs he can release for his own job.

So the next time the anxiety hit you didn’t text him. You don’t call or go to him. That evening it was worse than usual. Your hands shook so badly you had to sit on the floor. Your breathing came in sharp, uneven bursts like your lungs had forgotten the rhythm they’d known your whole life. Your chest felt too tight, your thoughts too loud, your body too heavy and too light all at once.

You made it to the corner of your living room somehow and sat down, knees pulled up, forehead pressed against them, trying to make yourself smaller. Quieter. Manageable.

You counted your breaths and then lost track. Started over.

“Four in… four out… four in…”

Your voice cracked halfway through and that made you frustrated on top of everything else. But still you didn’t call him. Didn’t text. Didn’t even think about it. You had decided you weren’t going to be that person again.

You didn’t hear the door open. Didn’t notice the footsteps at first. It wasn’t until you felt something shift in the room, a presence that was warm and familiar. Then your head lifted just slightly. Yoongi was standing there. His hair was a little messy. His eyes were already on you, sharp and worried in a way that made your stomach drop.

For a second, neither of you said anything. Then he crossed the room in three quick steps. “Y/N what’s going on?”, his voice was softer than usual, but there was something underneath it, something like worry.

You tried to shake your head. “I’m okay.”, you managed, even though your voice barely worked. His expression didn’t change. “You’re sitting in a corner, shaking.”, he said, kneeling down in front of you, “So try again and tell me the truth this time.”

Your throat tightened, “I didn’t want to bother you.” The words slipped out before you could stop them and the second they did, you wished you could take them back. Because something in his face broke. Not anger not really. It was more like hurt. “Bother me?”, he repeated quietly. You nodded, eyes dropping to your hands, “You’re always wasting your time on me and I just thought that maybe I should handle it myself this time.”

“Y/N look at me.”, he said gently. You hesitated. “Please.”, he whispered.” You lifted your head. His jaw was tight, but his eyes were softer like he was trying very hard to meet you where you were instead of where his emotions wanted to take him.“You think you bother me?”, he asked. You didn’t answer. He exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face before sitting down next to you against the wall ,”Come here.”

You barely had time to process it before he shifted closer, gently pulling you out of the corner and into him. His hand came up to the back of your head, pressing you lightly against his shoulder.

“Breathe Y/N.”, he murmured. You did or tried to anyway. His other hand rested over yours, steady and warm, thumb brushing back and forth in a slow rhythm. “In.”, he said softly, “And out.”

You followed it this time because it was easier when he was there. By the time your breathing evened out, the room felt quieter. Your head was still resting against him when he spoke again, “You really thought I’d get tired of you?” The question was quieter now. Not sharp anymore, just…sad.

You swallowed, “I didn’t want to be too much.” He huffed out something that almost sounded like a laugh, but there was no humor in it, “You don’t get to decide that for me.” That made you pull back slightly, looking at him, “What?” He met your eyes fully now. “You don’t get to decide what’s too much for me.”, he said, “That’s my call and I’ve never thought that about you. Not even close.”

Your chest tightened again, but not in the same way. “You spend your time writing songs for me, Yoongi.”, you said quietly, “That’s time you could be spend doing other stuff.”

“I write songs because I want to.”, he shot back, softer now, “Because it’s the only way I know how to say some things.” Before you could respond, he stood up, tugging you gently with him towards the couch, “Wait here.”

You blinked, confused, but he was already moving. A minute later, he came back with his laptop. He sat next to you, opening the laptop. A few clicks later, a folder opened and then another. Your name was at the top. Inside it were dozens and dozens of files. More than you had ever heard. “I wasn’t going to show you all of these.”, he admitted, glancing at you briefly, “Some of them are rough. Some aren’t finished.”

He clicked one. A soft melody filled the room, piano, simple and aching. You froze. “I wrote this after the night you couldn’t sleep.”, he said, “You kept apologizing for waking me up.” He clicked another. This one was softer, almost like a lullaby, “This was when you cried at my parent’s house. You squeezed my hand the whole way home.”

Another.

“And this…”, he paused slightly, “…was when you laughed for the first time after a really bad week.”

You stared at the screen, then at him, “There’s…so many. Why didn’t you show me all of them?” He shrugged, leaning back slightly, “Because not all of them were for you to hear. Some of them were just…how I processed it. How I stayed close to you, even when I couldn’t fix everything.”

Your throat tightened. You felt like crying again. “You never annoyed me Y/N.”, he added quietly, “Not once. Not ever.” Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t heavy anymore. It felt comfortable. You looked back at the screen, at the list of songs, pieces of you, translated into something softer.“I thought I was being too much.”, you admitted. He nudged your shoulder lightly.

“Sometimes you are.”, he said. Your heart dropped for half a second before he continued, “And I like that you’re too much.” You blinked at him, “What?” He smirked a little, “You feel deeply. You care deeply. Yeah, it makes things harder sometimes. But it also means you’re you and I wouldn’t trade that for anyone or anything.”

You leaned into him again, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier His hand found yours immediately, “Next time…you don’t sit in a corner alone, okay?”You nodded and snuggled into him further, “Yoongi?”

“Yeah?”, he hummed. “Can I hear another one?”, you asked. This time, when he smiled, it reached his eyes. “Yeah.”, he said, already clicking on a new track, “Always.”

2. Perfect For Me (Slightly based on the song by Justin Timberlake)

Yoongi knew almost immediately.

Not the moment he met you, that would’ve been too easy, too perfect. He realized it later, sitting on the edge of his bed while you slept beside him, your breathing slow and even, like you trusted the world not to hurt you more than he ever had.

That was when it hit him. You were perfect for him but he was going to ruin you if he stayed.

Being with you felt like exhaling after holding his breath for years. You didn’t try to change him. You didn’t ask why he went quiet, didn’t demand explanations for his distance. You listened. You noticed. You stayed anyway. Loving you felt natural in a way that scared him. Because things that felt that good never lasted.

He loved you in the only way he knew how which was carefully. He memorized your coffee order, learned the exact weight of your head on his shoulder, adjusted his life just enough to make space for you without promising more than he knew he could give. Every time you smiled at him like he was home, something inside him twisted painfully.

If he let himself want this forever, really want it, he would break it.

So he started holding back. Not enough for you to notice at first. Just enough to protect you. Just enough to protect himself. He told himself that leaving early was kinder than staying too long.

But then you would laugh at his half hearted attempt at a joke. Or reach for his hand in your sleep to make sure he was still there. Or look at him like he was the safest place you knew. And he would stay longer than he planned.

The night you said, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”, his chest burned. Not because he didn’t feel it too but because he felt it too much.

He kissed you instead of answering, hoping you would hear everything he couldn’t say. That he loved you in a way that had an expiration date. That he wanted you even though he knew you deserved someone braver, steadier, better.

When he finally said it out loud, his voice barely held.

“You’re perfect for me.”, he told you, eyes fixed on the floor because if he looked at you, he’d take it back and ruin both of you, “But I’m not…I’m not what you need.”

Watching your face fall was the worst thing he’d ever seen.

He walked away because staying would’ve been selfish. Because loving you without being able to choose you fully felt like stealing time he had no right to take. Because sometimes the kindest thing you can do is leave someone before they start building a future around you.

He still hears your voice in songs sometimes. Still wonders what life would’ve looked like if he’d been different. If he’d been ready.

But loving you taught him something he carries quietly now: Just because something is perfect for you, doesn’t mean you’re perfect for it.

And that truth still haunts him to this day.

3. The Scent of Comfort

You didn’t realize when it started. Maybe it had always been there in small ways, standing a little closer than necessary, always needing to be in the same room, choosing the seat beside him even when there were others open. But somewhere along the line, it became a habit. Then a need. And eventually something you didn’t quite know how to explain.

Yoongi never really questioned it. You were just there. Curled up beside him on the couch while he worked, your knee pressed against his thigh. Leaning into his shoulder while he scrolled through his phone. Hugging him from behind while he stood in the kitchen, your arms wrapping around his waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sometimes he’d hum in acknowledgment. Sometimes he’d absentmindedly pat your arm. Sometimes he’d just let you exist there, like your closeness didn’t interrupt anything.

And most days, that was enough. Because the truth was you weren’t just being affectionate. You were grounding yourself. His cologne, subtle, warm, a little woodsy, lingered on everything. His hoodies. His pillows. Even the air around him.

And when you were close enough, it wrapped around you too. It made your breathing slow. Made your thoughts quiet down just a little. Made the world feel manageable.

You never told him that. Because how could you?

Hey, I’m constantly attached to you because your scent keeps me from spiraling didn’t exactly sound normal.

So you kept it to yourself. Stayed close to him and hoped he didn’t notice how much you needed it.

Most days, he didn’t mind. But this day… wasn’t most days. You noticed it the second he walked in. His shoulders were tense, jaw tight, movements sharper than usual. He dropped his bag a little harder than necessary, ran a hand through his hair, exhaling like the air itself annoyed him.

“Hey.”, you said softly, stepping closer. He hummed in response, distracted as he dug through the refrigerator. You hesitated for a second. Then instinct won. You moved in, wrapping your arms around him from the side, pressing your cheek lightly against his shoulder.

There it was. That familiar scent. Warm. Steady. Safe. Almost immediately you started to relax. You closed your eyes just for a second.

“Can you not?”, he said suddenly. The words hit hard. You pulled back slightly, “Oh…sorry, I just…”His voice wasn’t loud, but it was tight, frayed at the edges, “I just got home. I don’t need someone hanging on me right now.” Your stomach dropped, “I didn’t mean to…”

“I know you didn’t mean to Y/N.”, he cut in, rubbing his temple, “But you’re always here. Always touching me, always right next to me…I just need space sometimes, okay?”

It wasn’t just what he said. It was the way it sounded like something that had been building. Like something he’d been holding in for a long time. “I’m tired. I had an awful day.”, he added, quieter but no less heavy, “Just…please back off for a bit.”

Back off. The words echoed in your head.

You nodded quickly, stepping away like you’d been burned, “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He didn’t say anything else. Didn’t take it back. Didn’t soften it. He just turned and walked past you.

You left and went back to your place not long after that. Over the next several days you gave him space. You didn’t call. Didnt go to him.

And you felt it immediately. The difference. The absence. Without realizing how much you’d relied on it, the quiet comfort of his presence, the grounding warmth of him, was just…gone.

Your anxiety noticed. So you tried to fix it. In the only way you could think of.

While shopping you found the cologne a few days later. The same one. The one he always wore. It felt ridiculous standing there, holding the expensive bottle, your fingers tightening around it like it was something fragile you desperately needed. But you bought it anyway and that night you sprayed it on your pillow.

The scent filled the space around you, familiar and aching at the same time. You pressed your face into the fabric, breathing it in. And slowly your chest loosened. It wasn’t the same because it wasn’t him. But it was close enough to help. So you kept doing it.

On your blankets. Your hoodie. Your couch. The sleeves you curled your hands into when things got bad. You didn’t need to bother him anymore. You had figured it out.

The knock on your door came a week later. You hadn’t expected him. When you opened it, Yoongi stood there, hands shoved into his pockets, expression unreadable.

“Hey.” he said. You nodded, “Hey.”

“Can I come in?”, he asked. You stepped aside, “ Yeah. Of course.”

He walked in slowly, eyes scanning the room like he was taking something in. You closed the door behind him, turning back just as he stilled. His expression shifted, “What is that?” Your stomach dropped, “What?”

He looked around, “That smell.” Your heart started pounding, “It’s just…”

“Why does your apartment smell like mens cologne?”, he cut in, his voice low now, controlled in a way that felt worse than yelling. Your mouth went dry, “I…”

“Did you have a guy over here?”, he asked, and there it was, something raw underneath the anger. Something tight and defensive.

“What? No…”, you said. “Then why does it smell like that?”, he pressed, stepping closer now, “Because I haven’t been here for over a week so it’s not me.” You shook your head quickly, “It’s not like that, I swear…”

Your chest tightened. The words got stuck because suddenly, it felt stupid. Embarrassing. You were doing too much. “I just…I bought it.”, you said finally, your voice small. His brows furrowed in confusion. Your eyes burned. “It’s your cologne, Yoongi.”, you said, your voice cracking now, “I bought it because…because…” You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as tears started to fall, “Because I missed it. I missed you. I needed it.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. So you kept going, because if you stopped now, you wouldn’t finish, “I didn’t realize how much it helped until you told me to give you space. And I didn’t want to bother you again, so I just…I thought if I had it here and I sprayed it on my things, it would be enough to help me get through.”

Your hands clenched at your sides, “It makes me feel calmer. When my anxiety gets bad. Being near you…it helps. The way you smell…it just…it makes everything quieter. I feel safe and like I can breathe again.” You laughed weakly through the tears, “I know that sounds weird. I know it’s too much. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

The room went very, very still. His face changed. The anger drained out of it so fast it almost looked like it hurt. “Hey Y/N hey…”, he stepped forward quickly now, hands hovering like he wasn’t sure where to put them, “No, no, don’t…”

“I’m sorry.”, you said automatically, even though you weren’t sure what you were apologizing for anymore. “Don’t apologize.”, he said immediately, his voice softer now. He was shaking. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I thought…”,he started, then stopped, shaking his head, “I thought you were…”

You nodded, “I know what you thought…I probably would’ve thought the same too.” You let out a shaky breath. Silence stretched again, but this time it felt different. “I didn’t mean what I said.”, he admitted after a moment, quieter now, “That day. I was stressed and I took it out on you. That’s on me.” He winced slightly. “I mean…I do need space sometimes.”, he said honestly, “But not like that. Not… in an I’m tired of you kind of way. Not in a I never went to see you again way either.”, his jaw tightened, “I shouldn’t have said that. I should’ve worded it in a kinder more thought out way.”

Your chest ached, “I thought you meant it.”

“I didn’t.”, he said firmly, “I’m not tired of you Y/N. I could never be. I love you too much.”

That hit harder than everything else. He stepped closer again, slower this time. “Can I…?”, he gestured slightly, like he was asking permission. You nodded. He pulled you into him carefully, like he was afraid you might pull away. You didn’t.

The second you were close, that familiar scent wrapped around you again, real this time, warm and grounding and him. Your shoulders dropped in relief without you meaning to. He noticed. His arms tightened just slightly. He exhaled, long and slow, like something finally made sense. “I wish you would’ve told me.”, he said. He pulled back just enough to look at you, something soft and regretful in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”, he added again, quieter. And for the first time in days your chest felt steady.

He nudged your forehead lightly with his.

“Also…”, he added, glancing around your apartment, “maybe ease up on the spray a little. It’s…strong.” You groaned, hiding your face against his chest, “I couldn’t help myself.”

“I can tell.”, he laughed lightly. But his arms stayed around you and this time he didn’t ask you to let go.

4. Pretty Princess

Yoongi had been pacing for ten minutes.

Not subtle pacing either. It was full, restless back-and-forth across your living room, hands flexing at his sides, shoulders tight, the faintest shift of scales catching the light along his neck every time he turned too quickly. You sat on the couch, watching him with your chin propped in your hand.

“You’re going to wear a hole into the floor.”, you said lightly. He stopped and looked at you. Then immediately started pacing again. “Y/N I’m serious.”, he muttered, “This is a bad idea.” You snorted, “Babysitting is not a bad idea.”

“For you, maybe. For me?”, he pointed at himself, then gestured vaguely upward toward his eyes, his skin, his whole existence, “I’m half snake.”

“Half corn snake.”, you corrected, like that somehow made it cuter which, to be fair, it did. “That doesn’t help.”, he said flatly. “It does. Corn snakes are adorable.”, you laughed. “That’s not the word people usually use when they see me.”, he sighed.

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up from the couch and crossing over to him. He paused mid-step when you reached him, your hands sliding up his arms in an easy, familiar motion. “She’s five, Yoongi.”, you said gently, “Five-year-olds don’t care about that stuff the way adults do.”

“She might.”, he insisted, “Kids cry over weird things. What if she sees me and just…”,’he waved his hands vaguely, “…screams?”

“Then we handle it.”, you nodded. “What if she thinks I’m scary?”, he asked. I got returned once because the kids were scared of me.” You softened a little, reaching up to brush a stray piece of his hair back from his face, “You’re not scary.” He gave you a look.

“The other day you hissed at a leaf because it startled you.”, you reminded him. “That was a big leaf.”, he shot back. You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes again.

“I could stay in the closet.”, he offered, completely serious, “Just for a bit. Until she goes home.” You blinked at him, “You want to…hide in a closet? In your own home?” You laughed, grabbing his hand before he could start pacing again. “Yoongi.”, you said, squeezing gently until he looked at you, “It’s going to be fine. If she’s nervous, we’ll go slow. If she’s curious, we’ll answer her questions. You don’t have to disappear.”

His jaw tightened slightly, “I just…don’t want to scare her.” The honesty in that softened something in your chest. “You won’t.”, you said quietly, “And if she is scared at first? That doesn’t mean she’ll stay that way.” He didn’t look fully convinced but he nodded anyway.

She wasn’t scared. Not even a little. If anything, she was fascinated. The second your friends left, the little girl, Soojin, all bright eyes and tiny shoes that lit up when she walked, stood in front of Yoongi and just stared.

He froze. You could practically see the internal panic.

Instead, she tilted her head. “Are you a dragon?”, she asked. Yoongi blinked. “No,” he said slowly. “A snake?”, she questioned. He nodded, “Half.” Her face lit up, “That’s so cool!” You watched the exact moment his brain got confused. “Cool?”, he repeated. “Yeah!”, she said, bouncing slightly, “Do you have a tail?”

He glanced at you like help me. You bit back a grin. “Welllll?”, you teased. Luckily the little girl got distracted, “Whoa! Look at your eyes! They’re so beautiful.” And just like that, something in Yoongi shifted.

The rest of the afternoon unfolded in small, surprising steps. Soojin asked a million questions.

“Do you shed your skin?”

“Sometimes.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really.”

“Can you climb trees?”

“…I could, but I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“…I’m…scared of heights.”

At one point, she reached out, tiny hand hovering uncertainly near his arm where a few small scales shown through, “Can I touch?” Yoongi looked at you again. You gave him a small nod. He turned back to her, holding his arm out slowly. “Yeah.”, he said, “If you’re gentle.” She was. Her fingers brushed lightly over the faint patterning of scales along his skin, her eyes wide. “They’re so smooth.”, she whispered. He huffed softly and just like that he relaxed a little more.

By the time dinner rolled around, Yoongi was the one helping her stir the pot while she stood on a chair, narrating everything like it was her cooking show.

You leaned against the doorway, watching them with a smile you didn’t bother hiding. The same man who had wanted to hide in a closet three hours ago was now letting a five-year-old boss him around in the kitchen and he didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

After dinner, you stepped out to take a quick phone call from your friend. “Everything okay?”, she asked immediately. “More than okay.”, you said, glancing toward the living room, “You might not get her back.” She laughed, “That good, huh?”You smiled, “She loves him.” You chatted for a few more minutes before hanging up, slipping your phone back into your pocket as you headed down the hall.

You stopped in the doorway and blinked stunned.

Yoongi was sitting cross-legged on the floor. Completely still. His hair was now clipped back in several places with bright, sparkly butterfly clips. Pink. Purple. One glittery blue one that caught the light every time he shifted. He had a silver and gaudy tiara mixed in as well.

Soojin sat in front of him, tongue peeking out in concentration as she carefully swiped pink and sparkly something across his cheek.

“Hold still.”, she instructed. “I am holding still.”, Yoongi said, his voice low and patient in a way you didn’t hear often. “You moved.”, she pouted. He chuckled, “I breathed.”

“Well stop breathing.”, the little girl demanded. Yoongi eyed her, “…That seems unreasonable.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. He looked up then and froze when he saw you. That’s when you saw the purple eye shadow and the pink glitter in his eyebrows. You doubled over, laughing, one hand braced against the doorframe.

“She asked nicely.”, he muttered. “I’m sure she did.”, you managed between laughs. Soojin turned, beaming, “Look! I made him pretty! Just like a princess!”

“You did an amazing job. He’s the most beautiful princess I’ve ever seen.”, you said sincerely, stepping into the room. Yoongi shot you a look. You ignored it.

“Thank you.”, she said proudly, going back to her work. You crouched down beside them, tilting your head to get a better look. There was glitter. So much glitter. A streak of pink across his cheek. Something very glossy on his lips.

“You do look beautiful.”, you told him sweetly.

He huffed but there was no real annoyance in it. Just acceptance and maybe, just maybe, a hint of fondness. Soojin leaned back finally, examining her work, “All done!”

You laughed again as he carefully reached up, touching one of the clips. Soojin clapped her hands, “Oohhh can we do your nails next?” He froze. Then looked at you. You raised your brows, smiling, “Have fun.” He sighed. “Okay.”, he said, already holding out his hand.

And just like that, the man who thought he’d scare her was sitting on the floor, covered in glitter, letting a five-year-old paint his nails.

By the time your friend texted that they were outside, Soojin was half-curled against Yoongi’s side, showing him a picture she’d drawn of something that looked like a very sparkly snake with wings. “That’s you.”, she said proudly. “I have wings now?”, Yoongi asked. You watched that quietly, something warm settling deep in your chest.

The knock at the door came a minute later. You stood, brushing your hands off as you went to answer it, greeting your friend with a smile and a quick rundown of the night.

Soojin perked up immediately, “Mom!” She hopped up and ran over, launching herself into her parent’s arms, words spilling out all at once, “He’s a snake and he’s really nice and we made dinner and he burned his tongue and I did his makeup and…”

You stepped aside to let them come in, glancing back toward Yoongi. He had stood up by now, already starting to pull a couple of the butterfly clips from his hair, a little awkward again but not in the same way as before. This time, it was softer. Like he didn’t quite know what to do with the feeling of being…liked.

Soojin’s parent smiled at him, “Thank you for watching her.” Yoongi gave a small nod.

Eventually, it was time to go. Shoes were put on, jackets zipped, tiny hands held. Soojin stood by the door, still talking a mile a minute, until her parent gently tugged her toward the hallway. “Say goodbye.”, they prompted. “Bye!”, she said brightly, waving at you. “Bye, sweetheart.”, you smiled, waving back.

She turned. Took two steps out the door. Then stopped.

You saw it happen in real time. The pause. The little shift. Then suddenly she pulled her hand free and turned around, “I forgot something!”

Before anyone could ask what, she darted back inside, little shoes lighting up with every step as she ran straight past you and right into Yoongi.

He barely had time to react before she wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight, determined hug. “I forgot to hug you goodbye!”, she declared.

Yoongi froze. Slowly he looked down at her. Then, just as slowly, his arms came up, returning the hug. Gentle. Careful. Like he was holding something precious. Soojin squeezed him tighter for a second, then pulled back, beaming up at him.“You’re not scary.”, she added matter-of-factly. Something in his expression shifted again. “Good I’m glad.”, he said.

“Okay bye!”, she chirped, already turning and running back toward the door. This time, she actually left. The door closed behind her, her voice still echoing faintly down the hall.

Silence settled in the apartment. You turned slowly toward Yoongi. He was still standing there. A couple glittery clips still in his hair. A faint smudge of pink on his cheek. And something unreadable but warm in his eyes.

“Well?”, you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips. He exhaled, running a hand through his hair before stopping when he hit one of the clips, “I didn’t scare her.” You shook your head. “No.”, you said gently, “You didn’t.” The way his shoulders relaxed said enough.

After a second, he glanced at you, something almost shy in his expression.

“…Don’t get used to this.”, he grumbled, gesturing vaguely to the glitter, the clips, all of it. You grinned, “Too late. You’ll always be my pretty princess.” He rolled his eyes but he didn’t argue and instead he pulled you in for a big, confident, and comforting hug.