#... :'))

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Yoongi turns to see if you were woken up by your maniac brother shouting in his ear, hoping that isn’t the case. 

Why is he calling now? What time even is it? 

When you don’t stir, he exhales through his nose, checking his phone before groaning into the receiver, 

“Not me. It’s fucking seven.”

“Oh, really? Damn, sorry. I’m shit with time zones.” 

“And not calling.” As his early morning annoyance chatters away, Yoongi blinks hard before slowly vacating the bed, hoping that you aren’t disturbed by either of them. You need as much sleep as you can get after what the two of you did just hours ago. Fuck, you deserve more rest than what twenty-four hours can give. You were so perfect… 

Oh, fuck. He just heard a shit ton of words but didn’t register a single one. “Uh huh.”

“Are you even listening?”

“No.”

As Yoongi makes his way out of the room, he shuts the door before slowly making his way into his living space, an observation crunching into his ear,

“Damn, you sound exhausted, bro.”

“I am.”

“You okay?”

He dumps himself onto his couch. “Yeah.”

“...Anything happen with—”

“Nah.”

“Okay. Good.”

Yoongi breathes in before exhaling, knowing that he shouldn’t be this closed off. He hasn’t spoken to your brother much this whole week. 

Keep things normal.

“We finished.”

“What? The whole project?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn! That’s awesome, man. Didn’t wanna feed your ego but I figured you would.”

Typical. Yoongi’s chest moves a tiny bit with his huff. “It wasn’t looking good. But we made it work.”

“What’s next?”

“Uh. Kook’s waiting on some calls.” 

“I still can’t believe that kid’s got a whole studio.”

“Same.”

“Anyway, what I was gonna say was—Huh? Oh, shit, sorry. One sec, Yoong.”

He closes his eyes, one hand resting between lazily spread legs. Fuck, he just wants to go back to you and back to bed. 

“Okay, hey. What I was saying was that I’ll be back tomorrow if you wanna get drinks.”

And Yoongi feels something in his chest constrict, not wanting to truly acknowledge why. 

But he quickly chooses to ignore it. He has to. Bottom line is that his time with you is fated to stop in less than twenty-four hours, so suck it up and deal.

Though… Despite him slowly coming to terms with that, actually knowing when things will come to an end sets him back multiple paces.

Oh, fuck. He didn’t respond yet.

“Thought you’d never come back.”

“Yeah, same. They better not make me do this again.”

“I dunno. You sound happy as fuck.”

“Goddamn, it’s cus of last night. Two of them, Yoong. Took me to the fucking rodeo.”

Yoongi just stays with his eyes closed. “Nice. How’s the trip going?”

“Good mostly. Getting some good networking in. Oh, yeah, just tell them I can’t make it tonight.”

Make it tonight? To what? “Huh?”

“The game? Intramurals?”

Fuck. Of course there would be a game on the day that he basically promised you could have him. “Oh, shit. I forgot about that.”

“Same. But should be an easy one, so. Y’all won’t need me.”

“Can I say pass?”

“Yeah, if you’re calling for a ball! Just go.”

He tried. But if Yoongi pushes anymore, he knows he’d start getting questioned. And if there’s one thing he doesn’t want right now, it’s questions. “Fuck. Fine.”

“Thanks! And if that hot ref is there, tell her hi for me.”

Same old, same old. “Why would I even mention you?”

“There’s the Yoong I know. Thought I lost you for a sec.”

Breathing through his nose, Yoongi sighs, “Can I sleep now?”

And there’s a laugh on the other line before he’s finally released. 

“Yeah, yeah. See ya!” 

“See ya.”

Yoongi brings his phone down to his lap before sitting still, half-awake and willing himself to move. But he gets up eventually and checks his lockscreen, sleepily closing all his notifications while stumbling back into his bedroom.

When he lifts squinted eyes to his bed, he can’t explain why seeing you there makes him so—

What.

Another call?

What the fuck. 

Yoongi swallows while checking who the fuck else would be calling him right now, and scratches his neck when he sees who it is. Breathing in slow before exhaling, he turns back around and closes his door again.

“This better be important.”

Jimin is always way too awake so early. 

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Mm.”

“Just calling you now so that you have plenty of time.”

“For what?”

“You’re coming to the game tonight, yeah?”

He doesn’t want to. “Guess so.”

“Ah, well. Lose the orange.” 

Huh? The league wasn’t kidding about that? Yoongi figured their so-called coach just had it out for his ass. “You serious?”

“Apparently. I even gotta cover my tats.” 

“What the fuck.”

“I know, but we need you, so. Dye it or I’ll come over right now and do it myself.”

“Fine, fuck. I’ll do it.”

“Thought so.”

Yoongi leans against his bedroom door, watching sunrise spill into his blinds and onto his table. “Is that all?”

“Yeah! Gotta run!” 

“Bye.”

Yoongi is a lot quicker into the bedroom this time, and he immediately shuts down notifications before placing his phone on his nightstand. If someone were to tell him that he wanted to dive into his bed right after, he’d deny it.

Instead, he drags the covers over himself as he settles into his side, huffing out a breath when he feels your body warmth radiate from underneath the shirt he gave you mere hours ago. 

And since you aren’t facing him, he finds it easier to admire you. 

Lies. 

Your aura itself is what’s captivating. Almost as alluring as those eyes he’s too shy to stare into.

Slipping his own shut, Yoongi spurns himself to figure out how to apologize. He completely forgot about the game tonight, and he told you that he was all yours. 

Yet again, he can’t do anything right when it comes to you.

Why can’t he keep himself straight when you’re around? Why does he find even the most basic shit so hard to follow when you’re there? 

Like his rule number one. 

Don’t let anyone stay.

With anyone else, he never gives a shit who they are. He’s way too private to trust anyone with staying the night after fucking. 

But for some reason, not only does he not mind you there… He wants it. 

Fuck. 

Admitting things to himself is usually easy as hell. Either he’s okay with something or he isn’t, he likes something or he doesn’t. 

But when it comes to you?

The only easy thing to admit is that he doesn’t want to admit anything.

Because that makes things real. It turns this impossible week into something that could be attainable, when he knows that’s nothing but a lie.

He’s even too afraid to admit the small shit, like how he’d probably be fine even going shopping with you or how he’d lose his shit seeing you in a sundress. If he were finally honest with himself, he’d do anything to have both of those come true. Preferably at the same time so he could show you off.

God, he really does wanna do that. 

He meant it last night. Though he doesn’t want to revisit some of the other things he said and thought to himself, that one is one hundred percent true. 

Because as soon as he had his chains around your neck, the rest of the night was a goddamn blur. 

A sigh from your side lifts his eyelids, and he watches as you simply shift your arm. Maybe to check your phone.

The gesture is so normal, and yet the first thing he thinks about doing is lazily slinging his arm around your waist. 

He wishes you didn’t feel the need to tense every time he does. 

“Mm,” you whisper after a quiet handful of moments. “He’s coming back tomorrow.”

“I know.”

When you slowly turn to face him, the look you give is one he wishes he didn’t witness. But he explains with a morning croak in his voice, “He called already. Saying he couldn’t make it to the game tonight.”

“Oh, shit, you have a game?”

“Yeah. Dunno if I’ll go, though.”

When you nestle into his chest, Yoongi closes his eyes to breathe in your scent, relishing the tiny pockets of time where you’re fully comfortable with him. “You should,” you sigh, just like he knew you would.

But he didn’t plan for this at all. Especially after you even took a day off from work. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Today was for you.”

“Oh.” Your head applies slightly more pressure on his chest. “I mean, it’s okay. If you go then people won’t suspect anything.”

“You sure?”

A slight pause betrays you before you continue, “Yeah. And they’ll lose without you.”

“Gassing me up, too?” He regards you with a look of suspicion. “Is that all?”

After you pause again, you finally get to the point.

“…I just really wanna see you play again.”

Yoongi quietly chuckles from his chest, because he knows you wanted to say that. And truthfully, he wanted to hear it anyway. 

“Don’t laugh. It was hot last time.”

“You’re so cute.”

At his words, you start to get up in an attempt to retreat. “Ugh. Never mind, I take everything back.”

“No, you don’t,” he says while pulling you back into his side. Smiling, a question comes out as the proud animal in him isn’t done being stroked yet. “You really think so?”

And you really do look adorable as you pout, closing your eyes and confirming, reluctantly, “Yes.”

Yoongi lazily plays with the chains around your neck, starting to understand why you fixate on them so much. “So you’d go?” 

“To the game? Hell yeah.” 

“I’m still rusty.” 

“I mean. Not at your peak, but not rusty.” 

“Ouch.” 

You laugh while successfully extricating yourself out of his arms, getting out of bed with a smirk that makes him proud. “Actually, I bet I can beat you now.” 

Oh? Suddenly more awake and poked with intrigue, Yoongi lifts both brows. “It’s like that, huh?” 

“Too bad you don’t have a ball so I could show you. I’m a master.”

A what? This he has to see. Returning your smirk, Yoongi tilts his head towards his closet, right next to his bathroom door. “Then show me. It’s in there, doll.” 

“Uhh.” 

Busted. 

Caught, you immediately retreat. “Actually, I don’t wanna embarrass you, so—”

Like hell you’re getting out of this one. When he shoots up, you flinch, yelping while darting into the bathroom, 

“Some other time!”

And Yoongi laughs while you shut the door, thumping back onto his pillow and throwing a smile to his ceiling.

After you get ready for the day, the both of you decide to cook together again. Yet another thing Yoongi has found himself quickly attached to. And another thing he doesn’t do with just anyone.

He helps you get everything you need from his kitchen, wondering how long it’ll take for you to know where everything is. Maybe if you had more time…

Fuck. 

“You want music?” he suddenly asks, needing a distraction from his thoughts. 

When you hard agree, he gets his speaker and connects, opting to just shuffle an array of songs instead of picking a certain playlist. Truthfully, he just wants anything on.

With each song that you know at least some lyrics to, Yoongi gets more and more intrigued, looking at you every time while pleasantly surprised. 

But why is he so shocked? Your brother listens to pretty much the same genres as he does, so of course you would’ve grown up knowing the same songs.

More connections to you are found around every corner. How had he not seen any of this coming?

“Wanna put on a show or something?” you ask as you watch over a pot you put together all on your own. “Food’s almost done.”

“I can.” 

“Just put on whatever you like.”

Yoongi exposes himself while grabbing his remote, “I don’t really watch TV.”

“Oh.” As you hum to yourself, he stares at the device he rarely uses. “Got any movies?”

“Not a lot.”

You tap the counter in thought before suggesting one more thing, “YouTube? Then I choose?”

He can do that. That’s what he uses the TV for, if anything. “Sure.”

After he opens the app on his television, you go over to take the remote and put on a random cooking video, introducing another low layer of sound into his apartment. 

“I’ll change it later. But these always get me in the mood when I’m making food.”

“I see that.”

As Yoongi watches you go back to his kitchen, he takes in all the activity happening around his place, wondering if it was ever like this before. And why he feels somewhat okay with it.

“Go ahead and sit! I’m almost finished.”

“You don’t need help?”

“Nah, I got it.” 

“K.”

Dumping himself onto his sofa, Yoongi looks down at his books under his table and notices that some of them are warped from the water fight. 

Maybe he should move them somewhere else, like a bookcase. Just in case something else you decide to do puts them under your mercy.

Speaking of mercy…

He lifts his gaze to see you amble into the living room, holding a spatula and licking it. 

Don’t do that.

“What?”

Nodding your head to the beat of the current song, you comment against the utensil, “Thi eh rehlleh good.”

He can only blink.

Because, somehow, he thinks this is the most you he’s seen you.

Of course, Yoongi has seen more of you than he ever intended and ever should, but this version of you—relaxed, unbothered, and just living in the moment—is the one he decides he likes the most. 

You’re glowing.

Without even realizing it, his shoulders release hidden tension at the way you smile and hum to yourself on your way back to the kitchen. 

He doesn’t even think you cared for an answer from him, which makes it even more—

“I’m the fuckin’ best,” you exclaim in small pride, pulling a sudden laugh from his throat. 

God.

Your mind is so attractive. Especially when it’s like this, generating confidence like it’s nothing.

Because you clearly have that. Yoongi’s seen it, even before you showed up at his door with a bruised as fuck ego. 

He just wants you to own it. He wants this to be how you think all the time. Not just with things you know you’re good at. You should carry that with you in all other aspects of your life. 

But Yoongi knows why you don’t. 

And it pisses him off.

Because he doesn’t get it. Because it makes no sense. 

How could so many people not treat you right? Who the fuck made you feel any less than perfect? You deserve so much better. 

Even better than what he could give you, that’s for damn sure.

And yet… He doesn’t trust anyone with your happiness. Not after you’ve been played with so many fucking times. 

Hold up.

Why the fuck is he so hypocritical? How can he think this way when he can’t even have you?

And even if he could. 

Things could end up like last time. 

And he wouldn’t live with himself if a repeat happened with you. 

Fuck that.

“Yoongi, look.”

He turns his head, watching you clutch something from his fruit bowl with a kitchen utensil. 

When he starts to wonder what the hell you’re doing, you joke with the proudest glint in your eyes,

“Tong-gerines.”

Wow.

Just like that, all of Yoongi’s thoughts are cut off with a reluctant, suppressed smile. 

Because he has you now, laughing in a shirt he’s worn countless times while drinking alone, and he knows this moment will stay with him long after he has to let you go.

“Oh, I meant to ask.”

Yoongi tilts his head as he takes a bite, curious as to what you could possibly have on that mind that he likes so much.

“Do you just have that for show?”

Uhh. 

He spares a glance over his other shoulder, eyeing the guitar he has in the corner. 

Fuck. He doesn’t really wanna talk about that. 

“Mostly.”

“Do you ever play it?”

He used to. “I haven’t in awhile.”

“Ah… I see.”

He knows what you want. Your eyes tell him everything he needs to know. But you’re doing that thing again: keeping your wants to yourself because you don’t want to burden people with them. 

And under normal circumstances, he would give you a pass. 

But not this time. 

He just offers you a hollow—but accurate—excuse. “All I know are sad songs anyways.”

“Then learn happy ones!” You wipe your mouth before continuing to be the death of him. “Or make them, produce them yourself, I dunno.”

Yoongi hisses out an empty laugh at your straightforward mindset. If only it were that simple. 

He could probably try, though…

What are you doing to him? 

Even after the entire breakfast in front of his television, your adorable fight to stay awake post-meal, and his mental war with himself before finally caving and dyeing his hair, he still hasn’t come up with an answer.

Huh?

When did you fall asleep?

What time is it? 

When you don’t see Yoongi, your mind runs through a thousand and one scenarios as you jolt awake. 

And when you turn to see a Yoongi with black hair, you realize that you should’ve thought of a thousand and two.

How long were you knocked the hell out? 

“I had to,” he says as he takes in your furrowed brows. 

Bleary, you blink slow. “Huh?” 

“They wouldn’t’ve let me play with it dyed.” 

Oh. The game. Damn, those are petty ass rules if he can’t even have colored hair. “That’s bullshit,” you accuse through a yawn. 

“I was gonna change it anyway.” 

“I liked it.” 

“I know.” 

You get up and pad your way over, meeting him halfway at his small dining table. “But…” You reach up to feel one of his now dark strands in your fingers. “I do like this, too.” 

He stares at you while you inspect it, all your thoughts kept to yourself so as to not inflate his solid ego. Like how he looks attractive with any color, and how you’re pretty sure he already knows that. 

In the end, you huff in frustration and admit, begrudgingly,

“It’s okay, I guess.”

And Yoongi laughs with the entirety of his shoulders, hauling you into his room and kicking the door shut.

When late afternoon rolls around, gold splashes onto your bent form as you pull sweatpants up sore legs. Taking stock of the clothes you can still wear, you finally grab an oversized shirt before tugging it over your head. 

“You can keep mine on,” Yoongi offers from his bathroom entrance.

And when you tell him absolutely not, he smirks at being caught in his teasing. 

Of course you can’t wear his things out in public. A privilege like that is only reserved for the people lucky enough to be seen with him.

Sighing, you sit on Yoongi’s bed to watch him dress, finding it strangely comfortable to observe him putting on baggy sweats and a simple white tank. 

Is he aware of how handsome he is, even now? Just looking around his closet to choose which shoes he’s gonna wear? 

Probably, but you still wanna tell him. 

Instead, you wait as he slips on a clean pair, admiring the swooshes before following him out of his bedroom.

“Oh, wait,” you mutter as the weight on your neck reminds you of what you have to do. “Here.”

Slipping off his chains, you suddenly feel hollow divots where they rested, but you hand them back before getting even more attached than before.

It was nice to wear them for a short time.

But you knew he wasn’t actually giving them to you. Those seem expensive as hell, and where the heck would you wear them anyway? 

Yoongi just looks at you before taking both necklaces, rubbing a thumb over the links before clasping them on. “You gonna go straight there?” 

Blinking, you tilt your head. “No? Not with you. I’ll bring my clothes back home and change.” 

“K.” 

Heading back into his bedroom, you start to gather your things, stuffing them into the bag you brought and wondering if this is the last time you’ll be able to do this. 

Any of this.

Stilling in your movements, you look towards his bathroom, knowing that eventually you’ll have to clear your stuff from there, too.

And you thought removing his chains was hurtful enough.

The only reason you aren’t completely crushed now is the fact that you’ll be back one more time. After the game, that’s when you can wallow in whatever pity pool that awaits.

Bag stuffed, you make your way to Yoongi’s front door, noticing that he’s rummaging through the coat closet nearby. 

“I’ll head out now, I guess,” you announce as you reach for the knob.

Only to be halted by a question at your side,

“Where’s my kiss?” 

“Your what?”

When you regard him, Yoongj’s expression merely changes in the way his mouth quirks up. “My lucky kiss.”

Fuck. You’re erupting, but you respond with a droning, insincere, “You’re so lame.” 

Yoongi throws on a light windbreaker before grabbing his keys. “I told you. You’re my good luck charm.” 

“I think you just wanted a kiss.” 

Walking back up to you, he isn’t shy when correcting, “I want a lot more than that, doll.” 

Your breath hitches when he cages you against his door, and you remember the last time this happened. What it led to. 

He stops to look over your searching eyes, and you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing. But your thoughts click shut as his lips slide over yours in a kiss that lifts your shoulders. When he lazily laps at your entrance to let himself in, tingles coerce your hands to grab his jacket, the crinkle of the material mixing with your soft breaths.

If this is what a good luck kiss is, you’ll give him as many as he wants.

Yoongi pulls away, biting his smile before kissing you again. 

He’s savoring you. Taking his time, dragging his tongue, breathing your tiny sounds through his nose. If he doesn’t stop—which you hope remains the case—there won’t be any of you left. 

But he stops again, the same curve still prominent on his face. What is that? What is he thinking? Why does he look… 

Excited?

Then a thought occurs to you. And you’re so sure of it that you can barely contain giddiness of your own. “You. What’s that smile about?”

“What smile.”

At his feigned ignorance, you are now one hundred percent sure you’re right. 

“You want me to watch you play, huh?”

Yoongi grins wide, the kind that scrunches his nose and turns his eyes into rainbows. “I never said that.”

“Such a show-off!”

“Me? Never.”

Basking in the pride of finally clocking him, you bluff while gripping the doorknob again, “Have fun at the game. I’ll just stay ho—”

“Uh uh, fuck that,” Yoongi quickly responds, stilling your hand on the knob with a large palm. “You better show up.” 

“Fine. But I won’t cheer for you.” 

Ugh. He just looks sure of himself that you try to convince yourself that you hate it. “I don’t need that.” 

Damn it, you love it. 

“Whatever.”

His amused hum is all you hear before he lifts his hand off of yours. “See you there.”

You nod while opening the door.

Then pause. 

Fueled by something close to affection, you turn around and plant a chaste peck on Yoongi’s cheek. The type of kiss that he asked for in the first place. 

“Good luck, baby,” you whisper into his skin.

And three seconds later, you laugh at the look on his face before you finally head out the door.

The rec center got a facelift, you muse, entering the air conditioning through sliding double doors. 

Making your way to the front table, you check the brackets taped onto its surface before locating which gym to head into, and you traverse the wide hallways while taking in all the different athletes. 

Some are dribbling their own basketballs, some are standing around talking or checking their phones. But the ones you relate to the most are the people settled against brick walls, munching on food and looking like they were forced to be there. 

But soon enough, you find yourself where you need to be, heart stopping and stuttering when you immediately spot Yoongi making a layup on the closest basket. Grabbing his ball, he turns to dribble away, the standard blue mesh uniform not taking anything away from his allure.

Damn, he’s in his element. You really could watch him play all day and not get achingly bored. Honestly, you’d probably snap and tackle him before anything else. He looks so damn fine—

You’re so caught up in your ogling that you jump at the arm around your shoulder.

“Hi!”

“Hey, Jimin,” you greet, smiling and admitting that even he looks good in the same scratchy material grating on your arm. “Good luck today.”

“We don’t need it if we have him.” 

You know exactly who he’s referring to, and both of you watch as the subject of your conversation keeps warming up with made shots. 

When you respond, you almost trip over your words as Yoongi finally notices you on the sideline, “Yeah, well. Maybe that’s true.”

Jimin’s laugh is incredibly light. It’s almost enough to chase away the feeling you get from a stare across the court. But you wave to Yoongi, hoping he remembers that kiss good luck on his cheek.

“It is,” your brother’s friend continues as he keeps his toned arm around you. “You were there last week, too, yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Ahh.. But you didn’t see what happened, huh.”

Wait. 

What does he mean by that?

Turning your head to face him, your question comes out small, “What do you—”

A whistle screeches throughout the gym, and Jimin hugs you a bit tighter before letting go. 

“Ask me later!”

You watch him jog away with furrowed brows, flicking your gaze to another man you want to question just as much. 

When Yoongi takes in your expression from afar, he silently asks with knit brows of his own, to which you’re about to answer until—

“Jimin?”

You can’t catch a break! 

Turning, you see all three of your friends from yesterday coming up to you, different levels of pep in their steps ranging from none to way too much. 

Oh, fuck.

You didn’t know they were coming! 

“Hey!” 

As they come up to you, they give hugs while questioning,

“Wait, is it him?”

“I know you’re not seeing Jimin.”

“Good luck with that one, girl.” 

“Relax,” you groan, though you really are happy to see them. “Let’s go sit.” 

As expected, you get grilled on the bleachers during the starting minutes of the game, so much so that you’re scared you’ll slip and just confess to shut them up. 

Well, mostly Yuri. But her bubbly personality is just lethal as hell. She may get you to slip up and not even notice since she’s fine driving the conversation. 

But reprieve comes in the form of Taehyung, another person you didn’t expect to come watch. Judging from the looks he gives all of you, he didn’t expect familiar faces, either. 

“Tae, is it Jimin?” Yuri blurts loudly before you shush her giggling with your whole hand. 

As he clunks along the bleacher right under you, he tilts his head, dark hair swishing with all his movements. “What’d you say?”

Reia answers for a Yuri that can’t contain herself, “Is Jimin the one she’s seeing?”

And the look on Taehyung’s face is so comical that you have to look away.

As your eyes find Yoongi passing to Jimin for a basket, you interject before your best friend can speak, “How about we not talk about this?”

“But I wanna know,” Yuri pouts. And you hate how you always almost fall for it. “We saw him pretty cozy with you just now.”

Finally, Dom speaks, her voice leaving little room for arguments, “Y’all, she said drop it. She’ll tell us when she’s ready.” 

“Dominique! You’re no fun.”

“So? I wouldn’t wanna be grilled like this.” 

Turning to her, you bend your mouth in a thankful curve, to which she acknowledges with her quick brows. 

And with her graceful maneuver, the conversation during the game is less suffocating. From what you gather, the reason they showed up is because Yuri’s man-that’s-not-really-her-man also happens to be on the team, and Reia and Dom had nothing to do.

Taehyung’s appearance is more interesting, but he just shrugs and explains that he also didn’t have plans after work. 

Which leaves everyone wondering why you’re there, but you make up something about your brother wanting you to keep an eye on the team. For whatever reason. 

Right.

But Dominique suddenly jokes about Yuri’s secret lover’s shooting form—is he a fucking teapot?—and everyone leaps onto the teasing wagon, resulting in one flushed face and one pathetic excuse forgotten. 

When everyone keeps chattering around you, it’s a lot easier for you to watch the game play out. To watch Yoongi play seriously yet still look like he’s having a good time. No matter how hard you try to follow the ball, your gaze keeps drifting to him, as if a string tightens too much if you look away for too long.

Hopefully no one notices.

Because you really can’t hold your admiration back.

After a win that ends up a lot closer than anyone intended, you all make your way down the bleachers, still chatting away and forming small groups.

You end up next to Taehyung, telling them that you really didn’t expect him to be there.

“Ah,” he sighs. “I didn’t, either.“

“Just that bored?”

“Yeah.”

If you were both alone, you’d question the strange look he has on his face. But you’re in the exact opposite situation, so you’ll let him be. For now.

Jimin is the first one you all walk up to, and you spot Yoongi a ways behind him, slipping off the mesh jersey and throwing it in a large laundry bin.

“Good game, y’all,” Reia praises, smiling at Yuri walking over to her man. Which you decide to label him as because, from the looks of things, he damn well wants to be anyway. 

They’re adorable.

Your brother’s handsome friend grins through his sheen. “Thanks! That was rough, though.”

“We shouldn’t’ve won that.”

At a voice you’d recognize anywhere, you whip your gaze to your side, slowly crumbling as Yoongi wipes sweat with his tank. 

Fuck, you wanna kiss him right now. He played so damn well that you almost leapt out of your seat more than once. 

When Jimin answers, his voice joins the thumps of bleachers and players warming up for the next game, “True. But we did it, so. Wait, we should go out tonight!”

“Who’s we.”

He looks at Yoongi, who gives him a cocked brow before wiping more sweat from his face. 

“I mean, I meant us, but,” he turns to you and your friends, mouth forming a flirty bend, “I don’t mind more company.” 

“Out where,” Reia asks, taking the words out of your mouth. 

“I dunno. A club?”

As soon as the word is mentioned, Yuri comes in out of nowhere, grabbing everyone’s attention, “Please! Anything to keep me outta the house.”

And with her man, you add with a small smile. As you still hold back any semblance of an answer, Reia’s the second one to commit,

“That sounds pretty fun. What about y’all?”

Dom hums before conceding, “Yeah, I’m down. But I’m not staying long, I got work tomorrow.” 

“Same,” you finally tack on, using her excuse as your own. “I dunno.”

“Awhh, come on, babe! We haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Just for a little bit?”

“Don’t pressure her. Hey, don’t feel obligated, okay?”

“No, I know,” you swallow, not looking away from your friends. 

Well, it could be fun? Especially if Yoongi goes. They really haven’t seen you in awhile and if you don’t go, they could start wondering what you’re up to. And if you and Yoongi say no, then that could look just as suspicious, if not more. 

Damn.

“I’m down to go for a little bit.”

At your agreement, they couldn’t be more excited. 

When you steal a glance at Yoongi, he’s already staring, Reia’s suggestion muffled in your ear,

“Maybe we can try that new one downtown.”

Taehyung suddenly cuts in, strangely silent that entire time, “They’re gonna overcharge like hell.”

“Ah, true. Well, we can just go to Dalo?”

“I haven’t been there in awhile.”

“Ladies get in free on Thursdays.”

“Done!”

Beaming, Jimin’s delight comes through his words as you all start to leave, 

“Let’s go! See you all there.”

A thump on your passenger side window startles the crap out of you, and you whip your head to see Dom’s insistence to let her in. 

Blinking, you unlock your car, asking what she looks so concerned for when she cuts you off,

“Dom, what—”

“Girl. Yoongi?”

What.

Fuck!

You freeze, completely iced over. “Huh?”

“Drop it. I know it’s him.” 

“How did you—”

“I’m surprised no one else caught on,” she huffs, facing you while occupying both your car seat and your mind. “I was happy for you, but… Him?”

She knows. How does she know? Damn her being just as observant as your best friend.

Seeing no other way out, you sigh at your steering wheel. “...Yeah.”

“Is he treating you right?”

You snap wide eyes her way. “What? Oh, my god. Umm…” When you try to find the right words to articulate, you can’t find them, so you tsk and shake your head instead. “More than I deserve honestly.”

“Mmm. Okay.”

Something’s up. Now concerned yourself and terrified of what you’ll hear, you softly question, “What’s wrong?”

“My bad. I just.” Dom just looks straight ahead, burning her gaze through your windshield. “He hooked up with my cousin.”

Damn. “When?”

“Long time ago, but… He messed her up. Bad.” 

Double damn. 

Scared again at what you’ll find out, you take another step. “How?”

With eyes still looking at nothing in particular, Dominique explains, “Thought she was the only one he was seeing, but. According to him, it was dumb of her to assume that.”

“Oh, fuck.” 

You hold your wheel with both hands, smoothing them along the leather material. Even though you should’ve expected that or something similar, it’s rough to hear out loud. 

But… Yoongi said something about that. And how he’s not doing it nowadays. Hopeful, you defend him, “Well… I don’t think he’s like that anymore.”

“So you’re sure he wouldn’t do the same thing to you?”

You huff out a rueful laugh. Because in the end, Dom’s concerned for no reason. 

“It’s nothing to worry about anyway.”

“Why not?”

Turning to watch her eyes on you, your voice is small as you respond. “My brother. He’s coming back, so. After today, it’s over.” 

Dom just blows disbelief out of her pierced nose. 

“Girl.” With a knowing expression, she observes, “Whatever you two got going on? No way it’s over.” 

You want that to be the case. Terribly so. But you know it isn’t. After tonight, you don’t know what’ll happen, so it may as well be done.

“Look,” she sighs. “I’m just looking out for you.” 

“I know.”

“And I don’t really know him. But you two seem like you want nothing to do with any of us, so. Something’s going good somewhere.” 

Your mouth twists in emotion as she flicks your car handle. “Dom…”

And her parting words tug your heartstrings before she closes the door,

“All I’m saying is. If you ever need me to swing, I’ll do it.”

It’s when you’re back in your bedroom, mind simmering in Dom’s words, that you finally call Yoongi. 

And he picks up right away.

“Did you really wanna go?”

You want to address her cousin’s story—and whatever the hell Jimin mentioned before the game—but it doesn’t seem like the right time. For now, you’ll keep your head up, focusing on the now instead of dwelling in a past that isn’t yours.

“No, I froze. But at least they won’t suspect anything,” you respond as you place your phone down and start picking out what to wear. Fighting the lingering thoughts from the car, you tease, “Besides, you would’ve been bored without me.” 

“I know. I was gonna say no anyways.”

What? He was? Par for the course, you guess. While you trudge through scenarios, he simply decides whatever the heck he wants to do. It’s admirable, him being that straightforward and maybe reckless. “Really? Damn, I’m sorry.”

“As much as I wanna see you in a club, I was chill having you to myself.”

You freeze in your search through hanging clothes. “Oh.” Wondering why the hell you agreed to go out on the last day you have with Yoongi, you sigh to yourself in shame. “Damn. Same. Why did I say yes?”

He huffs, a sound you love even through a tinny speaker. 

“S’ok. But I’m taking you home.” 

All outfit picking flies out the window. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna bet?” 

“You making it one?”

Pausing, you tug on your bottom lip.

If you have to deal with a club and inevitably drunk friends, you may as well make it interesting. Who knows? This might be more than enough to make the night worth it.

“I might be.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

He’s right. You don’t. But fuck, you wanna find out. Your stomach is already fluttering at the possibilities, at what Yoongi could possibly mean.

“Maybe I do. I’ll wear something stupid, too.”

“Wear whatever you want, doll.”

You turn to look at your phone, speechless when he ends with a statement offered as nothing but a fact,

“It won’t be on for long.”

Dalo’s atmosphere reminds you of a never-ending festival, with lights piercing through thick haze and a moving, breathing field of arms so large you aren’t sure where it starts and ends. 

As you make your way to your friends at the long, dark bar, you see that they’re already one drink in, all of them dressed to kill like always. 

When they spot you, varying degrees of pleasant surprise light up their faces, with Dom giving you a mix of approval and intrigue. Yuri screeches at your choice of outfit, and you laugh while loudly explaining that you wanted to show some shoulder for a change. 

And, quite honestly, you feel good. 

Yes, you said you were going to wear something dumb but, after thinking it over, you got the strongest urge to look nice. For you and for him. 

Besides… It’s your last night. You wanna show him that you do have some confidence in your stubborn head somewhere. Why not use a club and your brother’s absence as an excuse to do so?

Jimin is the next one to join your growing circle, ordering a round straightaway while several eyes drink in his leather getup. 

Goddamn. It seems that everyone is showing out tonight. Which makes you fear for your fucking life remembering who else still has to make an appearance.  

As the shots are handed out and cheered, you let harsh liquid run down your throat with its burn, mentally noting that you can’t have too much more. You just need a bit to get you through the night, coherently. 

If you pass out before this bet even—

“Oh, fuck.”

Your eyes whip to Reia before following her line of vision, and what you see slams your heart into arctic fire.

Yoongi’s here. 

And holy fuck you already lost. 

Dressed, hair done, jewelry on. Frankly, you aren’t quite sure your chest is still alive and beating. Does anyone else see this? Are people already staring?

Of course they are.

Even your friends can’t tear their eyes away as he makes his way through the crowd. 

“Bet you he got someone in his lap in five minutes.”

“Make that two.” 

“Oh, my god,” you groan. “Y’all are too much.” 

“You cannot tell us he doesn’t look fine as hell.”

“Even I might just—”

“Reia!”

“I’m kidding! Wish I wasn’t, though.”

Jimin just stays watching his friend until he gets close enough to hear his accusation, “Finally showed up!”

And you almost laugh at how predictable Yoongi’s face is. 

Despite the short amount of time you’ve had with him in the grand scheme of things, you’ve picked up on so many of his little habits. All the small things that make up his quiet but imposing personality. 

If only you truly had more time. 

“You getting another round or should I?”

“Yeah, I got it!” 

Yoongi stands on the other side of Jimin, their heads close together as they lean on the bar in conversation. After Jimin’s shameless flirting with the bartender, another group of shots is passed around, and you wince at whatever the hell he ordered. Geez, that one sucked. 

“The fuck was that, Jimin?” you yell over a song you recognize, to which he laughs while Yoongi leans forward to pin you with amusement.

“You want another one to taste it bet—”

You playfully shove his shoulder, and the two of them grin. “Hell no! That was disgusting.”  

“It’s not! You get used to it.”

“Ugh, no thank you.” Wiping your lips with a careful finger, you call the bartender over, realizing why Jimin was flirting so hard. They’re hot as hell. 

Slightly tipsy and feeling a little playful yourself, you lean over the bar when their very exposed chest appears in front of you, “Be honest, babe. Was what you gave us good?” 

And they give a pitied expression, voice light as they admit, “No! No one ever orders that!”

“Thank you!” you groan, shooting a laughing Jimin and highly amused Yoongi a look. “Liars!” 

Yoongi quickly leans in front of his friend, elbows propped on the bar and fists shielding his grin. “I never said shit!” 

“Whoa, hey! Whose side are you on?”

“Hers!”

You laugh with them, alcohol spewing another burst of confidence in your bloodstream. When your eyes connect with Yoongi’s, a flare of happiness surges through your chest, and it’s not the air inside making your shoulders chilly.

When a new song booms from the speakers, you feel yourself get tugged by your friends, knowing exactly where you’re going. Shooting a look over your shoulder, another round of chills runs down your body as you see both Jimin and Yoongi watch you leave.

Maneuvering through a few people—because Yuri insists that dancing on the edge of the floor is lame—all of you settle in a tight pocket before moving along to the song.

And you find it incredibly easy to vibe to, especially after a couple shots. After all, the music in Dalo is more club and dance heavy than others in town, which makes for upbeat fun and letting loose. 

So you do, dancing with your friends—and on them. Because you really are starting to have a good time, especially in the seconds where you remember the bet you made with Yoongi. 

Never mind the people you already see coming up to him at the bar. Never mind the flirty hands touching his shoulder, his bicep… All of them beautiful and maybe a better match for him than you. 

Fuck! 

Stop. Just stop. 

This is what you expected. Trust him. You can do it. This is how it has to be. 

But goddamn, you still wish you could just be there. You wish you could stand next to him without it seeming weird, or kiss the shit out of him in public to congratulate him for playing so well. 

Fuck, you would even give anything to have him being the one you’re dancing on right now. Your underwear is already slightly soaked from you simply imagining how he’d feel behind you. Where he would put his hands. What he would say in your ear.

Fuck.

The same frustrations mount your shoulders and weigh you down, reminding you that this is only temporary and you’ll have to stop pretending. Something like grinding in a club is completely out of the question.

Suddenly, your friends pull you into a more center, crowded part of the dance floor. From this new area, you can’t see Yoongi as well, but maybe that’s better in the long run. 

You still want him on you so much that it hurts.

As one song flows into another and liquor seeps into your system, your mind starts to clear and you finally start to relax. You don’t know how much time has passed, but it’s okay. Knowing that you’ll still see Yoongi tonight is enough. Seeing your friends have a good time is also enough. 

You’re thankful that you told them why you dodged them that night, even though you didn’t divulge everything. The whole situation could have transformed into something you couldn’t handle, like you almost couldn’t handle at the game. What would they think if they knew the truth? Would they even be able to keep that a secret?

Well, your conversation with Dom was certainly not a good start. 

Speaking of.

Dominique suddenly grips your hips and pulls you flush against her front, startling you into locking eyes. Wordlessly, you ask what she’s up to.

And she just winks before cocking her head to the side. 

Towards the bar.

Where Yoongi is currently unbothered, leaned against the counter, and aiming lidded eyes right at you.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you snap your gaze back to Dom, and you try your hardest to suppress a smile when she leans into your ear. When she speaks, you have to strain yourself to understand over the music,

“He might be alright.”

“What?” 

Dom holds you tight, moving her hips and effortlessly exuding appeal that steals many eyes. As you grind with her, you remember with a warmth under your skin that this is how your last club hookup started. Except it was with someone else, and Yoongi was certainly not there to witness it. 

Leaning in again, Dominique explains with a shout,

“That man just dodged half the club!”

You turn, cheek brushing hers and nose taking in her fantastic perfume. How did she know? Was she really watching him?

For some reason, your heart is already out the door, making a beeline for his apartment and making permanent residence there. “Yeah?”

She only cocks her brows up in affirmation, slinging her tone arms on your shoulders and moving with the hard bass. “Too bad he still has to get past me.” 

You laugh, feeling lighter than you had in months. 

Because you trusted him. 

And oh, how he fucking delivered.

Now you only regret not witnessing the whole thing. 

But hearing it from Dom’s own mouth somehow makes it more substantial. Even more attractive. And when she laughs with you, you’re more than happy to dance, only slightly aware of many lingering eyes. 

You’re glad she gets it, though you know one more person privy to your secret ups the risk regardless. You know she won’t tell anyone, but still. 

And you know that it’s all about to drop again anyway.

…So why not make the most of your time now?

With this newfound information that Yoongi’s watching, something in you starts to rumble, as if there’s an animal waiting for its chance to break out of your ribcage. Anticipation bubbles up from the sticky club floor and bolts to your core, turning your eyes into slits and your hips into water. 

Yoongi showed up during his game.

You can do that here, too.

“There’s my girl,” your friend comments in a yell. “Let him know.”

Quelling your smile with your teeth, you lean in while keeping your deep sways. “Maybe I already did.”

Dom cackles as you can’t hold back your grin anymore, and a burst of confidence pulls your tongue out of your mouth. 

Fuck, you feel good. Really good. And when you loll your head to face Yoongi again, his subtle, stupid, prideful cheek prod tricks you into thinking you’re the baddest bitch in the room. 

But the moment doesn’t last because soft hands grab your waist while a teasing shout rings in your ears, 

“Hoes! We couldn’t find you!”

Turning, you laugh at a very sloshed Yuri. “We never moved!”

“Nu uh! You left me!”

“We’re gonna go to the bathroom,” Reia cuts in, and you and Dom decide to tag along. 

When you turn, Yoongi’s now talking to Jimin, but the energy he’s exuding is still so magnetizing that you almost find yourself getting pulled in his direction instead.

But you can’t. Not now.

Distance is still paramount.

Sighing, you turn back around.

And don’t see any of your friends.

Fuck.

Where is the bathroom again? 

“Dom?” you call out, shouting for all of them but not getting any response. Damn it, you lost them this quick? 

Craning your neck while moving through the crowd, you try your best to locate any signs or openings where restrooms could be. But the place is so dim and hazy that you don’t quite see anything other than shrouded walls and strobe lights. 

Maybe it’s over there? No, that way?

Dalo is way too big.

“You lost?” 

Whipping your head sideways, you see a guy right next to you, teeth shining in the dark.

He looks a little familiar. Have you seen him before? Maybe a random house party or two.

But before you can even respond, he places a calloused hand on your arm, and something in your gut flares. 

“You lost, kid?” 

Why didn’t you stick with your friends? Why didn’t you pay attention? You hate being roped like this. Even though he might be harmless, you don’t tolerate unwanted shit like touching.

Already tense, you respond with your chest as you move your arm back, “I’m good, thanks—” 

He isn’t letting up what the fuck? 

“You sure? You just look a little out of it.”

Hands off hands off hands off. Pissed that he’s still holding on, you yell over the bass while yanking your limb away faster, “Fuck off, dude. I’m fine.”

Brow cocked, the guy lets off, though not without an uncomfortable gaze over your chest. “Damn, chill, baby. I just wanted to talk.” 

Motherfucker, what a liar. People that just wanna talk don’t grip someone like that. If he tries something again, you’re decking the fuck outta him. 

Get out. Now. 

Not caring where anything is anymore, you decide to retreat in any other direction than where this dick is. Your thundering heartbeat gives your spin momentum as you spit venom, “Find someone else then, cus I’m gonna g—”

“There you are!”

You whirl your head to see Jimin suddenly appearing, slipping an arm around your shoulders and holding you incredibly close. 

“Ji—”

“We were all looking for you,” he chirps, though his eyes aren’t exactly looking your way and his smile is a bit tight. “All of us got a round.”

“My bad,” you respond, relief flooding your body and mixing strangely with adrenaline and something you hate to call dread. “Just, umm. Just got caught up.”

“You’re okay!” Jimin then looks at the guy one more time before shifting you both. “Sorry if I interrupted something.”

“You did not,” you say with bite and shaken confidence, and the dickhead shoots your savior a glare before walking away.

As soon as he leaves, you release your breath, realizing just how wound up you were. Are. Definitely still are.

That was straight-up icky.

Jimin squeezes you a little tighter while asking, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you respond, not without a shudder. Hopefully he can’t feel you shaking while leading you around sweaty clubgoers because you’re rattled as fuck. Oh, you’re rubbing your arm? Goddamn, you didn’t even notice.

Fuck, that could’ve been worse.

Much worse.

Home. Yoongi. Either one is where you wanna be. 

Fuck it, you’re gonna stand right next to him the rest of the night, secrets be damned. 

Where is he? 

“Sorry it took me so long,” Jimin shouts over a song you would’ve danced to if you weren’t so shaken. 

And you tell him he got there just in time, putting up a front so as to not think about your trembling hands. “I was about to kick his ass.”

A full laugh erupts next to your ear. “I would’ve paid to see that.”

“Keep your money. It wouldn’t’ve lasted long.” 

More mirth bubbles into the tight space between you two, and he moves his body into yours as he skirts around someone. Because of this much closer distance—almost none at all—you can feel his heartbeat. Racing, beating loud against his chest. 

Just like yours.

“You weren’t what I was expecting.”

Caught off guard, you turn to look at him, noticing how close he really is wait shit his lips are right there. This is happening a lot tonight, it seems.

“Oh.” You quickly face forward. “Why?”

He doesn’t move his head away, but he doesn’t give you an answer, either.

Which leaves you to your own thoughts and wondering what the hell he could possibly mean.

While you meander through the crowded floor, strong colognes mingle with smoke and sweat—though Jimin’s scent is surprisingly nice up against your side. His leather jacket provides warmth on your bare skin, but it’s not what lights you up like a flare.

What sears you through is much more lethal. Almost palpable. 

Because when you lock eyes with Yoongi’s simmering aura at the bar, you wonder if there’s anything you can do to avoid total, utter destruction. 

Fuck. 

Fuck!

You didn’t do anything but you know what this must look like. Jimin is practically stuck to you and you aren’t shying away. 

Hopefully Yoongi will understand. You’re already goddamned frustrated with yourself; you don’t know what you’ll do if he ends up upset with you, too. From the looks of things, your bet is more than off already. 

Goddamn it. Don’t cry. Don’t break. You’re okay.

But then Yoongi flicks his stare to Jimin, who doesn’t say anything but addresses you next to your ear, 

“Get him a drink, yeah?”

“Huh?”

Jimin suddenly lets you go, his warmth still lingering even when he nods to his friend and blends back into the crowd.

And before you can even begin to explain, Yoongi shelters you with a strong arm and leads you away from the bar, skirting along the crowded dance floor, and into a narrow, secluded hallway filled with nothing but dim light and wooden crates. 

“Yoongi, what—”

He tugs you behind a tall stack, shielding you from the opening of the corridor and caging you against the wall. 

“Look at me.”

You do, eyes shaking just as much as your chest.

Since you expect him to be furious, something in you clenches when you finally look at him.

His face… 

He looks—

“You good?”

Nodding without saying a word, your brave facade shatters when he suddenly crushes you in a hug. 

That was scary. It was it was it was and your admittance has you clinging onto Yoongi for dear life, burrowing your face into his shirt that you know your makeup will stain and one you promise to replace later. 

“Fuck.”

His sharp breath squeezes your heart and empties it out through your eyes. You want to tell him you’re spilling more frustration than fear into his top, but maybe it’s a little bit of both anyways. You don’t know. All you know is that there’s too much emotion and chaos in you to handle and they’re flowing out of you in rivers.

And Yoongi says nothing as he holds you through your release, not commenting on the way your bones are shaking nor pointing out the way your fist pounds once on his chest in quiet rage. 

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt out in your frazzled state, not knowing why you’re even apologizing. You just feel like you need to. You’re supposed to. “I lost them.”

“Doll.” 

“I should’ve stayed with them.”

“Babe.”

“Why am I so fucking—”

Yoongi swoops in to kiss all the excuses from your mouth, coaxing another rush of tears to wash over tracks made from ones before.

Letting go, he makes you look at him as you choke back more words.

“Stop. None of this is on you. That dude is just a piece of shit.” 

You blink multiple times while nodding, still shaken but feeling comforted by his presence alone. Yoongi being there is enough. That’s all you need right now. Just him.

After a moment, he smooths a hand over the side of your cheek, and his words almost drown in the thumping bass of the hallway, “Yours or mine?”

“What?”

“Your place or mine, doll.”

“What about the others?”

“Taehyung’s on the way. Jimin already knows.”

Huh? What does he. What—Nothing makes sense, but you could not care less right now. You shake your head, not wanting to go back to the house alone. “I just want you there, so—”

“I will be,” he whispers. “Just pick for me.”

“Okay.” You rest your head against him, suddenly so, so, incredibly drained. “Yours.”

“K.”

The paid ride from Dalo is mostly a quiet one. Only soft pop coming from the speakers fills the dark space until Yoongi’s phone buzzes from his pocket. 

As he fishes it out, your eyes travel to the movement, wondering who could be calling him right now. 

But it’s only Jimin’s name on the lockscreen, and you go back to observing your intertwined hands on Yoongi’s thigh. 

The voice on the other line is definitely Jimin’s, but you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. So you simply listen to Yoongi’s responses as they vibrate in the ear you have leaned against his side. 

“Hey.”

A quick pause. 

“I don’t fucking know.”

Another beat. 

“Yeah. She’s okay.”

You wish you could hear both of them, and you make a mental note to thank Jimin since you didn’t even think to earlier. 

Yoongi suddenly huffs in amusement before you feel him looking at you, but he quickly goes back to looking out the window. “Good to know.”

“See ya.”

You feel him turn to regard you again after hanging up, and a question rumbles from his chest. 

“You were gonna kick his ass?”

With your eyes still on his fingers looped in yours, you admit, “I was.”

And Yoongi softly blows air from his nose, his thumb brushing over your hand in what you think is a gesture of pride. 

Your ride pulls into Yoongi’s complex, and when it rolls in front of his building, he lets you both out with a low “Thanks” to the driver.

“You’re good, man. Have a good night!”

When Yoongi raises a hand before holding yours again, you’re more than thankful that you chose his door to knock on. And when he hugs you as soon as that door closes moments later, you’re more than grateful that he ever opened it for you in the first place.

“What do you need?”

“Just you,” you sigh into his tee, sobered up and exhausted and still frustrated as hell. Even though there’s nothing on you, you feel dirty, too. But you brought all your clothes back to the house to clean them. “Damn it.”

“What?”

“We should’ve gone to my place. I wanna shower and change.”

“Use mine. I'll get some clothes out for you.”

“K,” you sigh once again. Still in a weird mood, you shake your head. “I should’ve just said no to the club.”

And Yoongi says your name in a way that has you shutting the hell up. When you freeze, his voice rumbles against your heart. “Stop blaming yourself. You didn’t know that would happen.” 

“Yeah, but I just ended up ruining everything. We could’ve just stayed here.”

“You ruined nothing,” he quickly amends, squeezing his arms around you a bit tighter. “Okay?”

It takes you a bit to answer, but you end up agreeing—not without an unconvinced lilt. 

“Wanna know what you did do?”

“What.”

“Almost got us caught.”

That gets your attention. Leaning your upper body back to look at him, you warily ask, “What do you mean?”

Yoongi looks away into his living room. “I almost said fuck it.”

“Really?”

“Mm.” He prods his cheek, almost laughing to himself while suddenly deep in thought.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Yoongi.”

“I’ll tell you later,” he says with a small smirk. “Shower. Go.”

“Fine.” 

You’re a little too shaken still to continue anyway, so you let him guide you through his flat and to his bathroom. As he opens a cabinet to fetch a towel, you almost tease him for his unflinching affinity for black. But of course, your mood doesn’t allow much room for things like humor.

“Take your time,” Yoongi offers as he grabs the door. “Gonna see if they all made it.”

“K.”

And he stares at you one more time before leaving you alone.

It doesn’t take you long to undress and step into his shower, but it does take you eons to do much else other than stand under the spray. 

Because you keep thinking about how things could have gone. What would’ve happened if Jimin didn’t show up. If they weren’t there at all. If you didn’t tear yourself away from a grip so hard it still scares you. 

Your fist connects with damp shower tiles as you curse at yourself again. 

Relax. Calm the fuck down. 

You did what you could and you’re safe. Yoongi’s just outside that door and you know you could’ve handled yourself back there. Threatening or minor. No matter what. Your brother has taught you how to fight, whether he realizes it or not.

If he saw what happened…

You wouldn’t have bat an eye at what would’ve went down, to be fucking honest.

Exhaling as much pent-up frustration as you can, you finally move to wash yourself. You’ll end up smelling like Yoongi when you’re done, but you don’t mind. You don’t think he’ll mind, either. 

As you scrub your arm more times than you can count, your mind wanders. 

Why was Jimin the one to come get you? How did he know? When you got to the bar, the look you saw on Yoongi’s face was nothing like you’ve ever seen. But it turns out, Jimin brought you straight to him. No questions asked. What was all that about?

In the end, you feel so exhausted that you decide to shove everything to the side and think about them another time. You’ve been in here for so long that Yoongi might be worried.

So you finally vacate the shower, drying off and walking into a bedroom that already has clothes set down on familiar sheets. 

Huh.

Deja vu. 

On the day that led to all of this, you came out of his bathroom to your clothes on his desk. Folded, organized, nothing like you expected. 

Eyes drifting from that area and back to the bed, you find comfort in the similar but vastly different circumstances. 

Strange, how things end up working out. 

Peculiar, how you feel like you’re falling for Min Yoongi.

Or. 

Maybe you already have. 

And you’re in a state where you just can’t fight it anymore.

After you change into baggy clothes, you pad out of his room only to be enveloped in comforting, spiced aromas. 

At the stove, Yoongi’s shutting off a burner and turning his head to give you a cautious once-over. Seeing him still dressed in what he wore to Dalo, if you weren’t so moody you would’ve already torn that make-up stained shirt right off.

He juts his chin towards the table behind you. “Eat.” 

And you oblige without a word, scared that you’ll admit something irrational if you so much as open your mouth.

The food is heated leftovers from earlier, and yet it tastes so much different. So much better. Almost better than perfection. You don’t even register Yoongi cleaning up and washing his hands in the kitchen.

But you feel his presence as he walks up to the table, and you lift your eyes just enough to see his fingers grip the top of a chair a little too hard. 

“You okay if I shower, too?”

Again, you nod without a sound.

“Okay. Be out in a sec.”

Minutes later, when you hear a muffled bang through his bathroom door, you feel burns at the corners of your eyes. 

And you wonder if he wants to admit something irrational, too.

Some time later, you find yourself under his comforter, the beat of his heart under your cheek the only sound you can hear. 

He doesn’t speak, as if he made it a point not to unless you did. And you don’t for a long time, just letting your thoughts run free and occasionally sprint into your worries. 

But when you finally talk, the first thing you tell him is that Dom knows, and he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. 

Then you bring up her cousin, because you want his side of that story, whether you’re going to like it or not. “I need to know exactly what you said to her.”

Without missing a beat, Yoongi is painfully honest. 

“I told her it was stupid to think she was the only one.” 

Slowly closing your hand at his side, you sigh, “I see.”

“And I also told her she’d be better off without me in the long run.”

That wasn’t part of what Dominique said. Shifting your head, you look at Yoongi as he explains to his ceiling,

“She was a nice girl. But she wanted to stay even with what I was doing.” 

“So you let her go.”

He looks away as you start to push yourself into a sitting position. “I dunno if you know this. But I’m not a good person, doll.”

“What? Of course you are.”

He huffs, his pitied smile aimed away from your look of concern. “If you knew half of it, you wouldn’t be here.” 

In response, take his hand, roping his gaze to yours. “You may not be a good person all the time. But who is?”

“You are.”

“Me? Hell no.”

“You are.”

“Not all the time. I’ve done bad things, too.” Brushing one of your fingers over his, you continue in a hushed tone, “But who cares? Who gets to judge anyway.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Why can’t it be?”

“Maybe it is for most people. But I’ve done some pretty bad shit.”

“Do you do those things now?”

He keeps his stare on you. “No.”

“Then why bring them up?”

“Because they stay with me. I make you worry every day because of what I’ve done before.”

He’s right. And even if he didn’t make you worry before, the conversation you had with Dom is proof enough. “Ah… I guess that’s true.”

“It is true. And you wanna know why Jimin was the one that got you?”

You lift your eyes back up to his face.

“It’s cus he knew what I wanted to do.”

Oh.

Something in your chest beats. 

Really, really loud. 

“But. I’m not saying you’re wrong for assuming things. It’s just…” His eyes drop to your conjoined fingers. “Even if I’ve changed, I can’t get rid of who I was.”

“I’m sorry. For thinking that way.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But I’m still sorry. It… also has to do with shit I’ve gone through. At least you had nothing to hide.” Reminded of all the things you’ve gone through before, the situations you walked in on, the things you’ve been told, your hurt keeps tumbling out and you can’t stop it. “It’s on me for still being this way. I can’t just…I can’t just assume you’re the same without asking. Which is what you’ve been telling me to do this whole fucking time.” 

Vision blurry, you barely notice that Yoongi’s slowly sitting up. “Babe…”

You wipe a frustrated tear from your face, hating how you somehow made this about yourself. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Come here.”

Of course. Of course he wouldn’t be upset when you’re the exact opposite: angry that you can’t find a single sentence that will summarize exactly how wonderful Yoongi is. Coupled with the memories you have and what went down tonight, everything is too overwhelming and you can’t do anything except empty your unsettled rage out through your eyes. Again. “You’re... You’re… fuck, I don’t even know how to say it.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

He lets you press your head into his chest, and you wonder how many of his shirts are going to be ruined under your duress. 

But after a moment of breathing him in, you back away, gaze downward as you softly give him your conclusion,

“I just… I think you’re fine. More than fine. You were then and you are now.” 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything back.

“Besides, you’ve done good things. My idiot brother wouldn’t have made it without you.”

A soft snort.

“And you’ve helped me more than I can explain. Just tonight alone, you’ve…”

He only lifts his eyes, but you don’t meet them.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just easier to say you’re human. Just like everyone else.” You take his hand in both of yours. “So who cares.” 

“What if I do it again?”

“Do what?”

“All the shit I’ve done before.”

“I hope you won’t. But if you did…” Inhaling, you breathe out through your nose, contemplative. “Then live with the consequences, I guess.” 

Once more, Yoongi watches you. And once again, you can’t find the strength to look up. The only sliver of energy you have left is saved for you to whisper, so softly, 

“It really is that simple.”

He finally clasps his hand around yours, and you both stay like that for what feels like hours. No more words, no other movements. Just you and Yoongi, silent, existing under the house of conversation you built together.

“Hold on.”

He quietly leaves the room, and you wonder what he’s doing before you hear some rustling and maybe a zipper. But you aren’t quite sure what to make of it.

So when Yoongi comes back holding a guitar he refused to play earlier, you feel your heart jump back into your throat as he situates one bent leg on the bed in front of you. 

What is he doing? He clearly didn’t want to take it out when you asked about it before. Is he doing this just to make you feel better? 

While he checks and tunes the instrument, you whisper,

“Yoongi, you don’t have to.”

Ignoring you, he starts, “Like I said.” In his pause, he stares at his hand on the strings. “I haven’t done this in awhile, so don’t expect much.”

You wait, realizing that you’re actually going to hear Yoongi play. Not a looped track he fell asleep working on, not hints of what he could create. But something real, something just for you.

“But here goes.” 

And with that, music adds a soft color to the dark.

But hearing the very first notes, you already feel… 

Sad. 

He wasn’t joking earlier.

There aren’t any words, but you still feel your heart beating slower and slower in its melancholic state. Like it’s slowly being suffocated and you can’t do anything but watch.

Why do you feel like crying?

“I’m sorry,” you apologize when you realize you already are, swiping at your eyes as he stills his hands. “You weren’t kidding. This sounds sad as hell.”

“It’s meant to be,” he admits. “It’s good if you have that reaction.” 

When you nod, he continues.

But there’s something you can see in the slump of his shoulders, in the slight downward curve of his mouth.

Because while you aren’t familiar with this tune, he clearly is. 

What is this one about? Is it something he wrote himself? 

…Why does he look so alone?

You’re right here. 

Tell him that.

Your body moves before you fully finish that thought, and you’re already sliding your lips against his. 

Yoongi’s fingers press the strings of his guitar in shock, and it takes him way too long to return your affection. But when he does, he fully commits, breathing through his nose and letting you take the lead. 

You pour everything you wanna say into your touch. And maybe some things that you don’t want him to know. But above all else, you want to tell him—in your own way—that you’re thankful, you’re grateful, you’re there. 

And you hope that he gets the point.  

“Sorry,” you whisper as you pull away against your will. “I just wanted to kiss you.”

He only stares, briefly at your eyes before drifting down to your lips. 

What’s he thinking right now?

What are the dim lights in his pupils trying to convey?

If he doesn’t wanna talk, you offer him an out. Because he gives you plenty of those when you don’t know what to say. “That was really good. But if you wanna make me feel better, pick something less sad, okay.”

And Yoongi immediately takes it as he softly laughs. “Lemme think.”

Good.

You’ll wait as long as you need to. 

Just looking at him now—refreshed, hunched over with his bare arms on the instrument—gives you a sense of peace you can’t quite place. Because that kiss seemed to breathe life into Yoongi, and you’re briefly happy that it worked.

Eventually, he does play some snippets that are, in fact, less sad. A familiar tune here, a random progression of chords there. You don’t like how he’s truly struggling to find something substantial, but you have to acknowledge his effort. 

Always his effort. 

A yawn pushes out of your throat then, and your eyelids are suddenly way too heavy to keep up. Maybe it’s the adrenaline and alertness finally wearing off, leaving pure exhaustion to seep into their place.

You hear Yoongi move to put his guitar down before you feel a comforting arm bring you into his chest. Breathing in, you wish you could bottle up his scent and place it on your imaginary shelf—a nook of things that remind you that things will be okay.  

Fighting the fickle beast called sleep, you softly ask, “What’s gonna happen, Yoongi.” 

“Hmm?” 

You exhale. “After tonight.” 

“What do you want.” 

You know exactly what you want. But you don’t dare say it. Not now, probably not ever. 

Well. Maybe you will in the future. Over drinks, or on a balcony, laughing with him as the two of you reminisce over fond memories that no one else will have. You’d tell him through glances, or smiles: Remember? The week we played pretend? 

But for now, with your heart bleeding, you whisper, 

“I can’t say.” 

There’s a bit of silence where your words used to be. 

But he speaks, his voice a dream but his words rooted in reality,

“Then don’t worry about it right now, doll.” 

“Okay.”  

And with that, your conversation peters out. Only your soft breaths reach your ears, and the thump, thump, thump of his heart presses against your own. 

The pair of you remain, like statues persevering through everything except time. 

Until he plants a kiss on your head.

“Babe.”

“Hmm?”

“I just thought of something.”

“Hmm.”

“You don’t have your car.”

Sighing, you realize what that means. “Damn.”

“It’s okay. I’ll take you home now.”

“Okay.” 

Silent and not quite present, you drift through his place, gathering the stuff that was too stubborn to leave the first time and ignoring the shake in your hands. When Yoongi helps you, your throat decreases in size, and you stay resolute in your stance that he’s a good person. Because he is, he is, he is, and you hope he ends up with someone that will keep telling him that. 

At his entrance, you wordlessly hold Yoongi’s key out to him.

And after a tiny moment, he takes it without saying anything.

“Thank you.”

He stares.

“For everything.”

He nods.

“And I never said this, but”—you look away from him for absolutely no reason at all—“I’m proud of you for finishing. I’ll be the first one to listen when it drops.” 

Fuck, goodbyes are not supposed to feel this crushing.

Choked up, you continue, being able to default to humor again, “Actually, you better gimme a copy before it does so I can cheat.”

When Yoongi simply kisses you on the cheek, you grit your teeth so hard you think they’ll break.

Rewind. Go back. Keep this week on a loop that never stops. 

You’d overthink less. You’d talk to him more. Fuck, you just need another chance. 

So you manufacture one of your own.

Closing a hand that isn’t holding a spare key anymore, you plead as soft as you can, 

“Please stay.”

To which Yoongi simply kisses your forehead before whispering,

“I was going to.”

Your house is dark and quiet when you softly open the back door.

But, with Yoongi right behind you, you don’t feel afraid in the slightest. 

Taking his warm hand in yours, you lead him in a wordless journey to your room, knowing others have done this same thing but not caring about them in the slightest.

As you both settle into a bed you’ve only imagined him in, you wonder if he thinks this is okay. You hope he does. Because you haven’t felt like this in a very long time. 

With the two of you shrouded in comfortable silence but looming futures, you talk. About anything and everything. Yoongi tells you they’re just waiting on some calls before the album is finalized; you tell him you finally got an email back and you have an interview next week. 

When you say you’re nervous, he says that’s a good thing. When you try grasping for more things to talk about, he surprisingly fills in the gaps, telling you what’s changed since the last time you lived there. 

And when you start to keep your eyes shut instead of open, Yoongi shifts and keeps his head propped above you with his arm.

“Sleep, doll.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

Your heart clenches with your admittance. Because you just said a hell of a lot more than four words.

“What do you want.” 

Fuck. Why did Yoongi ask that again? 

You already broke yourself over this question. You can’t do it again.

But maybe you can confess something along the same lines. Something safer. 

So you do.

“To see you again.” 

And not a second later, he says, “You will.” 

“I mean like…” 

Yoongi holds your face, and you slowly open tired eyes to unwavering ones above you. “You will.” 

“When?” 

His answer wisps onto your face in a breath, “I dunno.” 

“Me neither.” 

You don’t know when the next work trip will be. And even then, you can’t afford a slip-up. Two people already know and, based on tonight, Jimin might suspect something, too.

This is too hard. 

“I’ll figure something out. Okay?” 

Blinking and feeling some of your soul collecting in your ducts, you rasp out, “Okay.” 

“Now hurry up and crash so you can talk in your sleep again.” 

“What? Hey!” 

Fuck! He still remembers that? Or do you still do that? 

“Now I’m really not going to sleep,” you puff, ignoring his smile entirely. 

“Suit yourself.”

But you look at him then. Really look at him. And you know you won’t find another person that’ll make you feel how you’re feeling now. 

What a goddamn shame.

Thoroughly defeated, you break, finally telling Yoongi exactly what you want,

“Kiss me.”

And Yoongi does, making you feel so warm, so comforted, so safe that it’s ridiculous. Feeling something in you tethered to him, you slowly mount his body, suddenly wondering why he hasn’t done anything despite the obvious bulge in his pants.

How long has he been this hard?

You don’t get it. But you want more than just a kiss.

Frankly, you need it. 

You start to softly tug at the bottom of his shirt, and he pulls away, eyes wary as they search yours,

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

He sits up just enough for you to slide his tee off, and you immediately swoop down to smash your lips against his, curling impatient fingers in his hair. You hear his hands grip your sheets, not quite sure why they aren’t holding onto you instead.

When you lap at his lower plush, he groans enough to let you in, the sound elongating as you push your hips into his.

Finally, Yoongi’s palms come up to touch you, lightly on your biceps before sliding down to your elbows. When he taps you there, you break away.

“You got condoms?” 

Swallowing at his baritone, you nod. “Bottom drawer, but I’ll get one.” 

His sudden chuckle surprises you and turns you on all the same. “Why so shy?” 

Taking stock of all the things you were never going to disclose that you have, you simply sum it up with a quick, “All my dirty secrets are in there.” 

But Yoongi’s eyes light up as he blows past your summary, “Oh shit, lemme see—” 

“No!” 

You scramble to the edge of your bed, moaning when Yoongi slaps your ass and slides his hand between your legs when you bend over.

But you fetch a package from a pile your brother doesn’t know about, handing it to Yoongi while slipping out of bed.

He watches you without a word, undressing and flinging his bottoms to the floor. When you stay silent and fully dressed, he slowly makes his way to the edge of your mattress, situating himself by planting both feet on the ground in front of you.

And still, with eyes gazing up at your silence, he doesn’t say or do a thing.

So you initiate, slowly sliding down his sweats and blinking when he halts your movements with a warm hand.

“Look at me.”

You do.

“We don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you whisper, the words small in volume but large in your throat. “Please.”

Wordlessly, Yoongi relents, letting you finish what you started and drinking up every inch of what you show him. His sweatpants pool at your feet, eventually followed by his shirt, and you try incredibly hard to not let your heart join them. 

“You can put it on,” you murmur, and he obliges there too before you mount him with legs frustratingly still shaking. 

As your bodies join for yet another forbidden time, you both groan in tandem, with Yoongi burying his head in your bosom and you digging fingers in his hair. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers into your skin, and you feel his arms wrap around your sides before hands lightly claw at your back. “God.”

Lost in his affection, you move on instinct, unhurried and milking him at a comfortable pace that might make you come undone soon anyway. But you can’t seem to form any words or thoughts as to why this is the case, so you opt for pushing him back onto your bed and clutching his chest. 

He’s so handsome when he’s just as lost as you, his body one that you want to traverse and map and charter until it’s all conquered—just like he’s been accomplishing with yours. 

It’s when he lauds you again that you realize that this position is new,

“I knew you’d look so pretty here, too.”

Gulping and still feeling vulnerable, you tell him to shut up, to which he laughs low.

“And bossy. Fuck.”

His praise spurns you into a newer, increased pace, your ass bouncing as you stay hunched over his blown out eyes. 

“Oh my fuck.” He’s much more talkative as his control starts to slip, you notice. And this is the Yoongi you need. “Fuck, babe.”

You also need his touch. You want it so badly that a growl tears itself from your mouth as you order it.

And he’s already telling you to lean back before groping at your chest.

Whining, your eyes shut tight as your hands find purchase on his muscular thighs behind you, lightning jolting through you as he runs rough thumbs over your nipples. Releasing a moan to your ceiling, you keep thrusting upward, squeezing your cunt around him as tightly as you can. 

“That’s it,” Yoongi groans beneath you. “Use me, doll.” 

Fuck! You fuck him as hard as you can, feeling exposed but so fucking powerful as he dissolves into a pile of sounds and hisses below. 

When you bend forward again, you choke him without warning, lust gushing from your center at the most unholy sound he releases. And when you dive into his neck, he digs fingers into your hips that might leave bruises, and you can’t find yourself to care in the slightest. 

“Fuck me, Yoongi,” you breathe into his throat, heart thudding wildly against your chest. “I need this.”

And his resolve snaps, hands immediately squeezing your ass and slamming it onto his cock in fast, deep strokes. 

“Yoongi!” Your breath whooshes out as you crumple forward, hands sliding up to grip his shoulders as your body goes completely limp.

You don’t register how or when he flips you around, or how roughly he tells you to get the fuck on your knees, but you suddenly find yourself screaming into your pillowcase, pleasure streaming down your face and seeping into the material. 

When you lift your head to tell him how close you are, he pulls out, shifting you again until your sweaty back settles into your sheets.

Only to smother you with his body and slide right into a spot that has you whining into his mouth and clawing into his biceps.

With a heart so heavy it sags into your mattress, you start to realize that Yoongi’s keeping a slow, tender pace. 

And with eyes filled to the brim with unspoken feelings, you finally realize what he means.

He doesn’t know when the next time will be.

What you want to say exists in the way your hands slide down his arms.

And what he wants to say back is in the way his palm meets one of yours, clasping it tight and pressing both hands next to your tear-stained cheek. 

When you finally break to whisper spoken words, the only one you know is his name, repeating it like a dragging heartbeat to replace the one you’ll need to repair come morning. 

You don’t want this to end. You don’t want this to stop. 

You don’t want this to end. You don’t want this to stop. 

But all ends come, just like you’re about to off sheer emotion alone, and when desperation locks your lips with his, Yoongi understands completely. 

The waves are fuller, deeper, stronger this time, tugging you below and leaving you a quivering mess. So much passion and feeling overcomes you that your second undoing overrides the first, and a broken moan breaks your kiss while you hold onto him with everything you have.

Everything and nothing pours from your lips, and you’re sure none of it makes any sense at all. But you know he’s coming by the way he clings onto you, and you squeeze him with legs that have never had anyone better in between.

And, after a moment, the pair of you are completely still. As two. As one. Try as you might, even your eyelids remain shut, unable to acknowledge the stare you faintly feel casting blue moonlight on your face. 

One second. 

Ten seconds. 

Tired.

Breath ragged, you feel yourself succumbing to darkness as soft lips form shapes against your forehead. 

Falling.

Sinking.

Falling for him.

Nothing.

Before you know it, the next thing you hear are your brother’s happy shouts that he’s home.

And you wake up to your sun-drenched, rumpled, empty bed—frozen over with the devastating realization that you are not.

-

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tbc.

-

the song that yoongi plays on the guitar.

A/N: okay.. here’s the deal, y’all. this chapter has my soul and it broke me to pieces to write. i’m still crying lol. so i know there’s a cliffhanger, but i need y’all to trust me, okay? i love you all. thank you so much for being a part of this wonderful journey and, like i said: we’re all gonna get through it. we’re gonna be okay<3 A/N 2: i don’t normally say this, but. please let me know what you liked/thought of this one bc it really did take all of me. i’m gonna need as much motivation and encouragement (and hugs) as possible to get through this :’))