#3tan4

“Hey.” 

“Hey, can you bring us a ball? There’s one in the garage.” 

You groan while looking at the entryway around your exhausted bones. “I just got inside.” 

“So? We’re not far.” 

“Then come get it!” Why the hell is he making you do it then? He’s got two working legs!

Your brother is quick with the rebuttal. 

“Fuck that! We can’t leave ‘cus the court’ll get taken.” 

Thumping your bag down on a nearby counter, you hear some audible sounds on the line—one of them definitely Jimin’s distinct laugh. “Where are you?” 

“We’re at—Oh, Yoong, did you find a pump?” 

Oh, fuck. Yoongi’s there? 

Immediately, you wanna teleport. 

“How do you not have one in your—Whatever, she’s bringing one.” 

As someone that absolutely didn’t say anything close to agreement yet, you scoff on instinct. But… an opportunity to see Yoongi? On a basketball court of all places? You should’ve been leaving ten minutes ago. 

You remember watching them while growing up on the days your brother begrudgingly took you along. While you sat on the sidelines busy with your actual life on your phone, the shouts and squeaks of sneakers served as annoying background noise. 

Though, you remember with a smile that you did develop a tiny—only tiny, miniscule even—crush on Yoongi back then. The frightening mix of confidence and cockiness was hard not to be drawn to, especially when he was able to back up all the shit talk. 

“You comin’?” 

Shit, you didn’t even realize you weren’t talking! Recovering quickly while inwardly cursing your own damn mind, you huff, “Ass. I’ll change then head over.” 

“Thanks! We’re across from the rec.” 

“K. Wait, where in the garage?” 

“Tub under the bikes.” 

“K.”

Locking your door, you make your way over to the court a few blocks over with a ball under your arm and a canvas bag slung over your shoulder. You figured you’d bring them some water since, by precedence, they normally stayed out and played for hours. 

Are the bottles also another excuse to have any sort of moment with Yoongi? Maybe.

But who are you kidding? The outfit you also changed into fit under that same urge—an outfit that you have been wanting to wear but didn’t have the guts to thus far. 

After a few moments of worrying too much, you justified the clothes on the other plans you have for tonight. Didn’t make it anything to do with seeing anyone in particular. 

Just practicing some confidence. That’s all. 

After a good handful of minutes, you finally make it to the fenced court and immediately spot your brother leaning on the metal partition, greeting him with a slight bit of salt in your words.

As soon as he turns, he gives you a once over with furrowed brows. “What the hell are you wearing? You walked all the way here in that?”  

You ignore him as you put your bag down on the sidewalk. Tossing your ball over the high barrier, you instead ask with a grunt, “Aren’t you leaving tomorrow?” 

Thank god you launch it over the top in one try. It’s easily caught while he responds, “Yeah, that’s… That’s why we’re playing now.” 

“You won’t be sore?” 

“Relax. I’m not old.” 

“I am.” 

Oh, fuck. 

Fuck.

On the other side of your sibling, Yoongi appears out of nowhere, lifting sweaty arms to hang equally drenched hands on chain links. As you take in his wet locks, you have to rein in every ounce of power from the universe just to not break when he simply says, 

“Hi.” 

“Your hair.” You blink once. Twice. It’s the same color you saw on one of those hair dye boxes in his bathroom that day. And what’s worse: it reminds you of goddamn tangerines. “Wow.” 

As your brother launches into a huge rant about him dyeing it now of all times, Yoongi grins lopsided at your taking in the sight of his transformation. 

Asshole! He fucking knows how good he looks right now!

When you turn to face your brother, your eyes betray you and linger on the nuisance a bit longer. “What do you mean now of all times?” 

“He’s just got—”

“Relax,” Yoongi defends himself. “They won’t mind.” 

“I guess. But ever since you dyed it, your phone’s been blowing up.” He turns around. “Jimin! Here!” 

As your brother throws the ball to the other person you know on the court, he launches into a brief moment of nostalgia, the hollow bounces and his subject change almost enough to distract you from what he just said. 

“It’s been so long since you went orange.” 

Yoongi smiles a bit as he nods, wiping his hands with the bottom of his shirt. It’s cute how his downcast eyes soften a tad. What was that all about? 

You really want to know, so you listlessly ask when the last time was while focusing on the court behind them. 

And while your downfall watches Jimin lazily toss layups, you get a response from your sibling, “Damn. I don’t even remember. Seven years ago?”

“Eight,” Yoongi corrects offhandedly. “And you were just as bad.” 

“Hey!” 

Your brother laughs, and that’s when you wonder if you should join them on the other side of the fence, onto the court where some local bleachers have been placed. 

Besides, you still want to know what your brother meant by Yoongi’s phone… The feeling that’s developing in your stomach isn’t good in the slightest. 

“We thought we were hot shit, huh?” 

“You still think you are,” you scoff, earning a tsk and a chuckle. It’s then that you remember what else you have with you—something you need to step onto the court to give them anyway. “Oh, wait. I brought water.” 

They both watch as you fetch your bag and make your way to the fence opening, and you find this reunion a bit strange given your completely different relationships with the both of them. What’s even more awkward is the fact that your brother definitely doesn’t know about the other—if you can call whatever you have with Yoongi a relationship in the first place. 

Now that you think about it, what would the both of you even be? Nothing, right? Close to it, at least. The phone call a couple weeks ago showed that there was something there, but there hasn’t been much contact since then. Minimal contact, actually, even though his phone is apparently constantly lit.

Fuck.

This is hard.

Once your shoes step onto colored concrete, Jimin comes jogging up while holding your ball. His voice is light enough to lift your mood back to normal. “Hi!”

“Hey!” You beam a smile his way before walking up next to your sibling. 

Holy hell, it’s taking everything in you to not look at the orange-haired demon beside him as you hand out the bottles, feeling everyone’s sun-drenched skin radiating heat in waves. “How long have you been here without a ball?” 

“Not long. Someone just brought a flat one,” the same fiend cuts in with a drone before anyone else can answer. His eyes are aimed straight at your brother, so yours follow, filled with disappointment. 

“Wow. I even explained myself?” 

“You did,” Jimin responds immediately. “But it’s still your fault.”

You laugh before checking your phone, and your sibling and Yoongi use that time to take the ball from Jimin before heading to the closer basket. 

Damn. As much as you want to watch Yoongi in his element, you still need to get back home and drive to the theatre. Sighing, you state, “Well, I should head out.” 

“You aren’t gonna stay?”

Your head and two others turn Jimin’s way, and you falter before explaining, eyes snapping to Yoongi for a brief moment, “Didn’t plan on it. I’m seeing a movie.” 

“Oh, yeah! Taehyung told me about that.” He checks his watch before adorning a playful expression, shamelessly running his gaze along your body before providing an excuse, 

“You have time. Just tell him to meet you here.” 

Ah, fuck. Your brother is already piercing Jimin with suspicion. You hate when he gets this way so quickly. 

But, the flirt technically gave you another chance to do what you wanted in the first place. If anything, this would make your intentions a lot more subtle. “Umm… I guess I could.” 

“Yay! Watch me win.”

“No chance.”

Suddenly, someone is next to you picking up a bottle resting by your feet, and you don’t need to look to see who it is—the visceral reaction you have to their presence is enough to clue you in. How that’s possible, you have no fucking clue. 

When did Yoongi even leave his bottle there? And did he leave it on purpose? From what you saw during a quick scan of the court, his stuff is resting on the bleachers…

Your heart flutters while Jimin answers with mirth. “Is that so?” 

Yoongi only raises his eyebrows in response, mouth occupied with the water already. 

Goddamn it, you can’t look at him for too long, if at all right now. You think you would’ve been able to handle the same Yoongi since that’s what you were expecting. But this? This Yoongi with hair so loud that it’s creating another layer of confidence around him that you’re even more drawn to? Fucking hell, you may just turn down Jimin’s offer. 

But the man refocuses on you while grinning, tilting his head Yoongi’s way. “He’s always acting tough, isn’t he?” 

“Seems so,” you quickly agree, and you hear a brief snort on your side. 

And neither of them make any move to leave. 

But the stalemate ceases in an instant. There’s a clunk of a ball hitting a rim before your brother shouts, “Hey! Hurry the hell up!” 

“Kay!” 

Jimin jogs away with a smile, but while Yoongi follows suit, you blurt, 

“I like it.”

He turns. 

“The hair.” 

And he just smirks at you before shooting a wink, and your body almost breaks into pieces as you make your way to the bleachers. 

Finding a random spot on the third to bottom row, you immediately check your phone to make your eyes focus on anything else. Besides, you need to text Taehyung and let him know about Jimin’s derailing of your plans. You’ll take any distraction you can get. 

Your ride’s reply comes seconds later. 

Taeee😪 [7:20pm]: I am going to fight him 😐

Taeee😪 [7:20pm]: See you there.

As you’re cycling through apps, you start to hear a bunch of other voices, so you lift your head to take in the crowd coming in. You’ve seen some of them around but a lot of them are guys you haven’t seen before. Must just be the changes of the neighborhood since you last lived here. 

Yoongi is back to his smug ways on the court, eyebrow quirking before he easily cuts through defenders to score. If he doesn’t take shots himself, the passes he makes to your brother and Jimin leave his hands just as smoothly, some of them sick enough to get people on the sidelines to react. 

During the time you wait for Taehyung, more things happen. More people start filing in, the lights get flickered on when it starts to get dark, and a stray ball that bounces right towards you hits the front of the bleachers before Yoongi quickly follows—the expression he discreetly aims your way enough to send your inappropriate thoughts into overdrive. 

You haven’t felt this drawn to a sport in your entire goddamn life. 

Of course, it’s more the player than anything else. The way he laughs while pointing at fuck-ups, the times he wipes his forehead with the top of his shirt, and hell, even the way he plants his hands on his knees. Everything is normally so mundane if done by anyone else. But when Yoongi does them? You find yourself clenching your thighs together and trying to calm your erratic heart rate. 

He looks like he’s genuinely having fun.

You love that.

And the game goes on, with your brother and them winning and sweating through their shirts. But when it’s abruptly interrupted, the shouts you hear on the court are from randoms you don’t know. 

“That was out.”

“What? Motherfucker, no it wasn’t?” 

“I saw you step out!” 

“You’re lying.”

Finally, Yoongi cuts in, seemingly impatient and wanting things to keep moving. “Just shoot for it.”

He’s quickly overshadowed by the others again.

“I’m not shooting for that. It’s still our ball.”

“Stop holding up the game, bro. Shoot for it.” 

“No! No.”

It seems that this conversation will keep going. Because men. And pride.

You feel eyes on you while this exchange is happening and, while you think it’s Taehyung finally arriving, they’re actually coming from some guys on the other side of the court—the side that everyone stopped on. They’re talking amongst themselves, and who knows what the hell they’re saying. 

Ugh. 

Just focus on the game. You didn’t expect this much attention just sitting on the sidelines. 

As you plant your feet on the riser below you, you’re just wondering if they know about your older sibling. 

Because if they don’t stop being so obvious, they’re about to. 

The conversation is still happening about whose ball it is, and you see Yoongi walk up to the same group of people and say something before lifting his thumb back to the court. 

When one of the guys nods to him and joins the game, he gives a look to your brother before lazily walking… Your way? 

What’s he doing? 

Oh, yes. His stuff is on one side of the bleachers. Maybe he’s getting water. 

But wait. Why did he get someone to play for him? Why is he settling on the bottom bench, leaning back so that one of his elbows lies next to your shoes? 

Your heart is racing as much as the drops of sweat running down his neck. 

Holy fuck, he looks good.

“You okay?” You ask downward, taking in his drenched hair and heaving chest. 

A thought occurs to you then. A truth so exhilarating that you might burst if you don’t keep yourself in check. 

You get to see him tomorrow. 

You don’t know what to do. 

Yoongi wipes his neck while watching the game finally start back up again. When he answers, his voice is so low that you lean down a bit to hear. “Oh, yeah. Just tired.” 

He certainly doesn’t look tired. A little winded, sure, but not tired.

“Ah, I see,” you respond, planting your hands outside of your thighs. “You got a lot better.” 

He turns his head to look up at you. “You think so?”

And you want to tell him something else, but all that comes out of your mouth is, “Mmhmm.”

A corner of his mouth lifts before he shifts his attention back to the court. “Thanks. We started playing in a league so. Been playing a lot more recently. Damn rusty, though.”

Oh. You already know about the league because your brother mentioned it before, but… What is this feeling you have? Hearing just a sliver of Yoongi’s life outside of where you normally see him? You’re amazed he even said something. Truthfully, it’s also a bit shocking that it slipped out of his mouth so easily. 

Maybe it’s from adrenaline. You have seen people be a lot more chatty during games and today is obviously no different. 

“I heard about the team! I didn’t know you were on it.” 

A nod.

Grinning, you add, “Now I really won’t come to games.” 

Yoongi’s shoulders bob a bit and, though you can’t directly see his expression from where you’re sitting, his lifted cheekbone is enough of a hint that he’s highly amused. 

Fuck. 

You really want to jump his damn bones. 

A scary follow-up thought spears your brain: what if you actually don’t see him tomorrow? Like your brother just said: his phone’s been blowing up. What does that mean for you? Does Yoongi even still remember? 

Shit shit shit. 

You need to confirm now while the both of you are a ways from anyone else. 

“Yoo—”

“Hey!” 

Both you and the man below you snap your heads to the sound, watching as Taehyung walks along the concrete sideline before hopping one foot onto your bleacher. As the metal clang rings in your ears, you offer a smile. 

“Hey, Tae,” you greet as Yoongi lifts himself into a sitting position, slightly put out that your confirmation with him was interrupted. “Took you awhile.” 

His affronted expression is priceless. “I’m sorry. I was told to make a detour before even getting up! What’s up, Yoong.” 

“Sup.” 

You groan. “Your plans weren’t the only ones changed. I had to get these dummies a ball.” 

“Leave me outta this.” 

“Says the basketball player without a pump in his car.” 

Yoongi briefly tosses you a grin and scrunched nose over his shoulder, and you feel another skip of your heartbeat, wondering how long it will take until this man ends you completely. 

Taehyung’s voice starts out slow as he continues, “Well, if you’re ready, we can go.” 

“Yeah!” you chirp, not ready to leave Yoongi looking like that at all. “Let’s go.” 

As your shoes clunk along the bleachers before you step onto solid ground, you shoot him a smile over your shoulder. “Bye, Yoongi.”

“See ya,” he responds before his eyes flicker to your feet and back up again. 

Suddenly incredibly shy, you clear your throat before walking in stride with Taehyung, waving goodbye to your brother and Jimin. 

When you head out shortly after, you turn back one more time. 

And suck in a breath. 

Because Yoongi’s already turned away, drinking from his bottle while aiming a look to the other side of the court.

As you settle into Taehyung’s car, you spew some much needed venting about work and how everything is just inherently unfair. 

“You need to find something else, bro,” he sighs while starting the engine. “I keep telling you. You’re too smart for that place.”

“I’m looking, I’m looking,” you sigh, knowing that you can’t refute anything he’s saying. The only issue is that you want to find a career instead of a job, and the only options you’ve come across since graduating are the latter. 

It could also be because you’re picky. But that’s besides the point. 

While Taehyung starts to list some options—one of them definitely a joke but still making you embarrassed—you feel a vibration in your lap. Picking up your device, you see who’s on the lock screen and unlock it as quickly as you can. 

Yoongi [7:56pm]: Thanks for the water :) 

It’s such a simple message. Harmless, too. But you still can’t help your face from heating and your fingers from squeezing your phone a little tighter. 

An old, mellow song fills the car while you type your reply. 

You [7:58pm]: You’re welcome !

And the second one you send is made purely out of your own impatience to see him again. 

You [7:58pm]: I wish I could’ve stayed… 

After it slips into the thread, you wonder if you crossed a line before saying screw it altogether. Your brother and Jimin are most likely still on the court anyways, and it’s definitely not a lie. Maybe you’re gauging if he feels the same?

Or do you just hope that he responds to your texts out of the many messages he’s been receiving lately? God, that’s so lame, but it would at least help ease your mind if he did. 

Then again, he did text you first… But maybe that was—

“What was that all about?” 

A quick cough leaves your mouth before you brace your chest, hitting it twice. Fuck, you completely forgot you aren’t alone! Clearing the shame from your throat, you decide to tell part of the truth. “Oh. Yoongi just said thank you for the water.” 

Tae just lifts a brow along with his lips. “Mm.” 

“What?” 

He slowly slides his eyes your way, checking his mirror on your side before making a turn. You feel tingles along your spine when he airily responds, “I won’t tell.” 

“Tell what?” 

Taehyung gives you a look before droning, “Really.” 

“I’m not—Whatever you’ve got in that head of yours, it is incorrect.” 

“Uh huh. So the two of you aren’t fucking?” 

Your jaw drops to your thighs. “We aren’t!” 

“Mm. But you plan on it.” 

What the fuck! How does he know?

“Tae!”

“Next time,” your scarily accurate friend advises, “Don’t make it so obvious. He checks you out all the time but, if you do the same, then people’ll talk.” When he gives your outfit a once-over, you shrivel up at his smirk. “This makes sense now.” 

“He… I…” 

Well then. You didn’t know Yoongi regarded you like that enough for others to notice. Then again, Taehyung is the most intuitive out of your friends. If anyone was going to suspect anything miles ahead of everyone else, it would be him. 

He simply smiles and shakes his head. “Don’t worry. I won’t pry.” 

Come to think of it, you didn’t exactly tell anyone all the details about that day. Sure, you’ve mentioned to your girlfriends that something happened—they picked up on your glow even days afterwards, so you had to spill. 

But you didn’t dare mention a name. Not even a description, as much as they hounded you to describe his dick. 

In this case, however… Taehyung seems to be convinced that he’s right already. 

And he is. 

So maybe you can actually admit what the hell happened to someone. The truth. It can finally leave the walls of your chest and take temporary rest in someone else’s, and possibly make your steps a bit lighter in the process. 

You take a deep breath.

“We did. Once.” 

Taehyung immediately slaps his steering wheel, triumphant and making you flinch. “Hah! I knew it! Wait, only once?” 

The scenery outside your window is suddenly super interesting. “Yeah.”

“…When?”

“Last summer.”

One song changes to another as your friend pauses. “Oh, damn. I didn’t peg you as the one and done type.”

“Nah. It wasn’t like that,” you sigh. Reminiscent of what that day truly meant to you, you allow a fond smile to grace your face. “It was actually really nice.” 

An even longer pause takes place, but you’re too busy replaying the events while watching buildings and cars and lights flash by. With the soft music accompanying, you’re briefly content and simply someone along for a night ride. 

But Tae’s inquisitive hum pulls you back in.

Turning to him, you question, “What?”

The man is contemplative, and it looks like he’s gauging whether to say what he wants to or not. But you wait—like you always do—because you can’t budge the sudden fear in your gut. 

Finally, he speaks, “You know how he is, yeah? Never leaving parties or whatever alone?”

“…Yeah.”

“I started noticing something off but.. I never knew what it was. And Jimin didn’t know, either. Which was even weirder.” 

“Uh huh… And?”

“I dunno. He just started checking out early. Like he would just dip or. Check his phone then bounce.” Taehyung flicks his turn signal on shortly before changing lanes. “I thought he actually had a regular or something. And after your little freak-out—which was cute, by the way—I thought it could’ve been you.”

Your heart plummets. “Oh… It’s not.”

“Mm.” 

Goddamn it. First the phone situation with him and now this. Of course you know Yoongi is the type of guy you can expect this from, but… Shit. You feel like an idiot right now for thinking something would be different in your case. 

May as well get some questions out of the way. If this thing you planned happens at all, you need to be prepared. Licking your lips, you point out the obvious with a sigh, “You’ve been around him more than I have.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Does he… Hmm.” 

“What?”

Shaking your head, you both like how you can talk about this with someone and also dread the answer you’ll receive. “You think he’s the type to kick people out? After… You know?”

Tae aims a sly grin your way. “Is that what he did to you?”

You reach over to playfully tug on his sleeve before scoffing, “No!” But after thinking about it, technically Yoongi did send you off, but the circumstances called for it. “I mean. That was different.” 

And your friend hums, unconvinced. “But yeah, from what I’ve heard, that’s usually what happens. At least, if they end up at his place. Pretty quick, too.” 

“Ah,” you respond, heart bleeding. 

“Why? You really are planning on fucking, huh?” 

“Tae!” 

“Just because I’m right about your upcoming appointme—”

“It’s nothing like that!”

“Uh huh. And you’re just gonna be sitting on your single ass once your brother leaves.” 

Fuck. He’s got you completely had and you barely said a thing. 

You definitely need to be more discreet. It’s fine if Taehyung is the only one that knows, but if other people do? There’s no way it can be kept from your brother then. And that will turn out fine for no one. 

Your silence draws itself out long enough for Tae to say with slight pity, “You’re lucky I like listening instead of talking.” 

“I dunno,” you bite. “You’re being awfully fucking chatty tonight.” 

The laugh that erupts is completely Taehyung, his head throwing back a bit in the process. It’s enough to pull one side of your mouth up. 

You’re fine. You know you can trust him. And you were right: you do feel a bit lighter now that the truth exists past your heart and Yoongi’s place. 

“Just be careful with that one, okay? You know how he is. Just like your brother: doesn’t do relationships and all that.”

With a slow nod, you’re back to looking out the window, hiding the cracks in your visage. “I know.” 

“Does anyone else know?”

“No.”

“Mm.” 

Fuck. The feeling is back. The dark, simmering feeling that you’ve made a mistake is stewing, and you need to try your hardest to not let it consume you. 

But this is incredibly difficult to do once you see that you were left on Read.

The movie crawled by, a temporary distraction from your thoughts. 

It would’ve done a better job if it wasn’t so shitty, though. Both you and Taehyung now stomp out of the theatre, pissed and cursing the people that recommended it. 

“That had to be a prank,” you surmise, disgruntled and fishing out your phone before you even get to the exit doors. 

“Pranks I can respect. But if that was actually something they liked? I am blocking them.” 

Amusement bubbles from your throat. “Tae! Those are your friends. We do not block friends.” 

“We do if they have shitty taste in movies.” 

When you both cross the entryway of the building, your miffed companion spots the ticket booth. Determined, he proclaims, “Hold on. I’m getting our money back.” 

“Wow,” you laugh. “Good luck! I’ll be here.” 

It’s after you watch his taut strides that you finally unlock your phone to see any notifications. 

Some group chats, some emails, other random apps. 

But of course, your finger zeroes in on the one that has your heart beating again. A notification you wanted but didn’t expect to get.

Yoongi [9:52pm]: You missed out. I put on a show

You berate yourself for smiling at his overflow of confidence. But you’re also relieved as hell that he even responded in general. Maybe things aren’t as awful as you’re creating them in your mind. 

Hell, he could’ve been playing that whole time! 

You need to chill the hell out. Stop worrying. Just go with the flow of things. 

You [10:01pm]: Just got out of the movie !! And I knew you would.

Surprisingly, he responds quick. 

Yoongi [10:02pm]: How’d it go?

You [10:02pm]: Boring af. Tae’s trying to get our money back. 

Yoongi [10:03pm]: Damn. Sorry :(

When you look up, you see Taehyung sauntering back, knowing he was successful one way or another. 

Smiling, you observe, “I see we got what we wanted?” 

“Yup! But also…” He wiggles his phone. 

“Oh, my god. You got their number?” 

Taehyung beams a wide smile your way before you both leave the theatre. “And a free movie date.” 

Your eyes roll heavenward. “I dunno how you do it.” 

“Easy,” he puffs. “Confidence.”

“That’s it?”

“Ah, no. Confidence, and saying what you want.” 

You level your eyes with his. “It can’t be that simple.”

“Try it, babe. I promise it works.”

The car ride is more animated this time as you both rant about the film and ones that are scarily similar and equally terrible. 

As you look at your phone, you see that Yoongi actually texted you again, so you rush to answer—not without getting a chuckle from Taehyung. 

Yoongi [10:06pm]: What’s next?

You [10:20pm]: HOME

You [10:21pm]: Work early tomorrow. I shouldn’t have gone out tonight tbh 

It’s not until Taehyung drops you off at your house and you’re heading to your room that you get a reply. 

Yoongi [10:38pm]: Fuckin saaame. I’m passing tf out soon

Interesting, given it’s a Thursday night. Which part is he agreeing with? Work? Not going out? Both? 

What could it mean if he agreed to either one? Maybe he is with his regular—if that’s even a thing? 

Fuck! Stop thinking about any of this. This whole chilling out thing is clearly not working for you and you’re pretty sure stress is digging trenches in your forehead. 

Sighing, you set your bag down in your desk chair before deciding on a neutral reply, hating how you’re putting up a front.

You [10:40pm]: Okayyy gn!!

Yoongi [10:42pm]: gn :)

It’s after you get his reply that you realize: you went the entire day without a clear confirmation on tomorrow. 

And no matter what you try, your thoughts and worries still plague you well into the early, pink and yellow hues of the next morning.

“You got everything?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“Okay. Because last time—”

“Relax. I checked.” 

“Okay. How long are you out this time?” 

“A whole goddamn week,” your brother grunts as he rolls his suitcase past the front door. “But the hotel is apparently fucking sick so. Whatever.” 

“Nice.”

“You sure you’re good?”

“Me? A functioning adult? Hardly.”

He shakes his head. “Well, you better ring me up if something happens. Or Yoongi.” 

You still your hand on its way to the doorknob. “Oh. Yeah, okay.” 

“I’m serious.”

“I know.” 

“Cool.” He pats your head before he turns to his ride. “See ya.” 

“See ya.” 

You [8:32am]: Hey ! I’ll be free after work. Are we still..?

Staring at your phone four hours after you sent Yoongi that text, you deflate before moving on with your work day.

While it’s true that both of you decided on today, that’s the last you heard of it and it’s been days since then. Weeks.

It was only after hours of back and forths with yourself that you decided to finally send him a confirmation text. But the fact that he hasn’t said anything yet—or even read it—makes a bit of squirming happen under your skin. 

Your thoughts mirror what you thought about on the basketball court: does Yoongi even remember?

Does he even still care?

Going through the motions of your day, you feel your hopes dwindle by the second, wondering if you’ll even make it to the end of your shift. 

But when you finally get a response, you quickly decide that no, you won’t. 

Because the text you receive is enough to make your heartbeat skip thrice. 

Yoongi [2:02pm]: 🍊🍊🍊 :)

Fuck. Fuck, it’s happening. 

The whole day at work after that seems to go terribly, awfully slow. Like some random entity bends time just for you because it knows you’re looking forward to something. 

But when you finally leave and practically bounce all the way to your car, you shoot a quick text before getting inside. 

You [5:42pm]: I’m out ! Just lemme know.

Again, you get silence. Then a read receipt after a little bit, and then finally, an answer that isn’t half as good as the first one.

Yoongi [6:11pm]: Shit ok. I’ll be out until late ): 

Damn. Well, you can still use this time to relax and calm the bottled up anxiousness you feel in your body. How to busy yourself until then? How to distract yourself from thinking about worst case scenarios?

Finding things to do, the final plan involves showering before getting ready, then blanking out on your phone while a show you’ve seen before plays in the background. Done. 

It takes a bit for you to choose a playlist before getting under running water, but when you do, you let the hot stream coat you as your thoughts run rampant. 

Yoongi and you never said what exactly would happen. All you said was you would go see him, and tonight was the night. Of course, the both of you definitely have one thing in mind, but… You don’t exactly have a plan outside of that. 

Not that it matters. After all, your conversation with Taehyung in his car confirmed that Yoongi doesn’t really leave room for anything afterwards anyway. 

Shit, do you even need to pack anything? Bring anything? Or will this whole thing that you’ve been stressing over for days just last for an hour tops? 

Your sigh mingles with the shower steam. 

Relax. 

Bottom line: it’s happening. 

“But I miss you, too.” 

You lean against the wall, folding your arms and smiling wide.

After you freshen up and get yourself all ready, you settle into a couch in your living room, knowing you’ll fall asleep if you choose your bed instead.

Your phone occupies most of your time, and you periodically check Yoongi’s thread—as if you don’t get notifications for messages. 

But after awhile, the mountain of stress from today and your growing pile of worries weigh down your eyes, and you can’t help but succumb to the sofa after all.

Oh, shit.

You knocked out. What time is it? 

Blinking fast, you groggily check your phone.

10:50pm

Yoongi: 1 Missed Call

“Fuck!” You scramble to click the notification, sitting up and feeling a bit disoriented. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

When did you fall asleep? How long has it been? Did he just end up making other plans? 

“Hey.” 

Your breath stutters. “I am so sorry! Fuck, I fell asleep.” 

“S’okay.”

A pause. 

Nothing else from him? 

“How… How was your day?” 

There’s a brief, soft noise on the other line. But you can’t tell what the hell it is. Was it a laugh? A snort? It sounds like he’s in his car, so maybe a random sound?

“It was fine.” 

You blink. 

Something’s off. 

You have no damn clue why, but this isn’t the Yoongi you’re used to. He sounds so unlike himself that you’re starting to get worried. 

But is it okay to ask him what’s wrong? He certainly asks you all the time. 

However, for some reason, you can’t. Maybe you don’t think it’s your space to pry. 

So you try to make the situation light. “At least your day is done! Tomorrow will be fun, right?” 

A long exhale crackles through the line, and you feel yourself crumbling when he responds.

“Same shit tomorrow, too.” 

“Oh,” you whoosh out, feeling your plans slip through your fingers and pricking them on the way down. “I see.” 

You’re silent after that, wallowing in your sudden sadness that your tomorrow isn’t looking as bright as you imagined. What was that about assuming disappointment again? Fuck, you should’ve done it this time. 

“Sorry.” 

Your heart lurches at his gravelly tone, and emotions clash inside your stomach, quickly turning it into a pit of turmoil. “No, no!” you blurt out, hoping he didn’t hear the heaviness you feel. “It’s okay. Things happen.” 

You hear another sigh, but it seems forced. 

And you don’t know what to do, how to react. There’s definitely something up and you have no idea how to approach this. To notice his blasé demeanor suddenly do a one-eighty is a bit jarring. 

“It’s okay, Yoongi,” you finally decide to say, whispering. “If you’re busy—”

“I’m not busy right now.” 

A car door thumps shut on the line, both that sudden sound and his quick reply rendering you speechless.

“Oh. Okay.” 

What in the hell is happening? If you were a betting person, you would think he’s… upset. Distancing himself. You don’t think you’ve breathed ever since he answered the call. 

So you just wait. Wait and wait and wait for him to hang up so that you can sit and think about this deep pit of emotions you dug for yourself. 

But Yoongi doesn’t end the call. Not even after an entire minute of silence. 

Your worries start to deepen. What the fuck is going on? Why did he even answer if—

“Open the door, doll.” 

What? 

A quick exhale leaves your mouth as you swerve your head towards the front. “The door? My door?” 

A small breath can be heard on his end before you get a very, very tired-sounding, 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh. Shit,” you rush out, shooting up from your spot. “Okay, hold on.” 

The call ends while you’re making a beeline for the entrance. 

Your feet pad with loud slaps the whole way there, and you really don’t know what’s happening or what you’re gonna do once you open the door. As you get to the opening, you stop and take a breath before undoing the locks. 

And though Yoongi’s head is slightly hung, his eyes are already trained on you when you slowly reveal your anxious expression. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.” 

You let him in and take in his heavy strides, shutting the door as if you don’t want your own house to know your secret. “I thought you were going home.” 

“I was.” 

Suddenly remembering what time it is, you blurt, “No one saw you, did they?”

Yoongi shakes his head, eyes aimed away from where you stand. “Everyone‘s out.” 

“Okay…” 

You remain planted a few steps away from him, not knowing what to do but wanting to do anything to wipe the expression off of Yoongi’s face. To clear the bags from under his eyes and the slight pinch in his brow. But you’re so shaken by the whole string of events that somehow led him here. 

What the hell is going on? Where is the Yoongi that you know? 

No. What you’re used to doesn’t matter right now. What you think you’re worried about doesn’t matter now, either. All you want to focus on is lifting his mood, so you launch yourself towards the kitchen and offer multiple things,

“Have you eaten? Do you want anything? I can make something or find a snack. We don’t have much but—”

Your arm is suddenly tugged backwards, and you don’t know what’s happening until your chest is crushed into the front of Yoongi’s hoodie.

Snapping your eyes to his face, you flicker them between his and start to ask what that was for, but he’s already putting your head back against him. 

And it’s silent. 

Only the beat of his heart pulses in your ear.

Embarrassed because you’re entirely sure he can feel your much quicker one, you bring your hands up to grip his jacket, burrowing your face into soft material that smells like comfort and him.

And as soon as you do, you feel at peace. Time bends in another way and, this time, you revel in the slower passing.

There are no thoughts, no worries, no others around. Just darkness and his scent and his warmth around your back. 

You feel his chest rumble when he asks a question, and his voice is so incredibly low that you have to pull away. 

“Hmm?” 

Yoongi just watches your face when he responds, exhausted, and you feel your heart skip once again. 

“Please lemme kiss you.” 

The first thing you feel is confusion. And the second is something terribly similar. But you say nothing as you see the look in his eyes—eyes that are just a shade darker than you remember.

So you nod. 

And kiss you he does, lips softly pressing into yours and lifting your soul off the ground. It’s not rushed, not imposing; rather, it’s a soft flame that slowly warms you through. 

Your eyes close shortly before it ends. Because though it isn’t rushed, it is still chaste, and you’re already pulling away.

It is now that you search his eyes, noticing more weariness and something else in their depths. The more you rest in silence, the more you want—

To be kissed again and exactly how he’s doing now, crushing his lips against yours and sending lightning down to your toes. This kiss is much deeper, much fuller, tugging your heart to the front of your chest with force. 

Your hands clamp impossibly tight around the material of his hoodie, gripping it and pulling him in a fraction. The grunt you get in return ignites something in your lower belly, only to be followed up with him twisting you to shove against the nearest wall. 

Everything bursts into overdrive as you moan into his mouth, hearing one of his hands thump the wall next to you. The way he thrusts himself flush against you sends your mind in a frenzy, and your hands abandon his hoodie to sling around his neck instead.

Fuck, you needed this. All the stolen glances and kisses up to this point have been driving you up multiple walls, and you have been craving this feeling for months. This intensity. 

The way he exhales from his nose, the way his hand never lets up on your hip, the way he chuckles when you reach for the bottom of his hoodie—everything he’s doing now is the Yoongi you finally know. He’s back with a vengeance and you want him to unleash it all on you.

You’re about to fling caution to the wind and yank him to your room when he suddenly, calmly, annoyingly halts your movements. 

With eyes aimed straight at his face, you wordlessly ask what he’s doing—and also plead him to keep going.

And Yoongi looks at you before rubbing your cheek. Murmuring, he clarifies with a low tone, “That wasn’t what I came for, doll.”

“Then… Then what?”

He just smiles a bit, eyes lidded and drooping. “I just wanted to see you real quick.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.”

Forgetting everything that you just spoke about with Taehyung, you offer, “I can come over.” 

Yoongi shakes his head, swiftly reminding you what you stupidly needed to remember. “I’ll be out tomorrow, too.” 

“Oh.”

“And I don’t wanna keep you if you got plans.” 

“I mean… I guess. I kinda cleared my plans for… This.” 

Yoongi rests his arms around your waist. “I tried, too. But I can’t flake on this. My bad.” 

“Are you kidding? It’s fine, really. Do your stuff,” you offer as if he isn’t going to anyway. Fuck, you feel dumb. 

But Yoongi seems set on his decision. Who are you to make him change it? Besides, you can get some errands done. Listen to Taehyung and look for some real jobs. Folding your lips together, you hang your head in disappointment. “I just…” 

“I know.” 

“It’s been forever.” 

“I know.” 

Tilting your eyes back to his face, you ask, voice small, “I’m not… I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?” 

Yoongi roves his eyes over your features, and his silence is weighing you down with every passing nanosecond. “Say what you mean.” 

Determined to keep it a secret, you lie, “That is what I mean.” 

He doesn’t believe you. But he answers, “No.” 

“Okay.”

Cupping your chin, Yoongi rubs your face with a rough thumb. “And listen. If you got something on your mind, tell me. Ask me. You may not always like the answer, but I’ll always be honest.” He then steps away, and the breaths you’ve been harboring finally leave you in a rush. He yawns behind a fist before blinking hard. “You’re the one that fucking called me out on it.” 

No no no. This is too soon. You don’t want him to go. “Then can I ask something else?” 

Yoongi has a mix of curiosity and trepidation on his face. He brings you in again and waits. “Hit me.” 

“Do you want me to come over?” 

Surprise shoots from his nose, and he smiles wide, aiming his laugh away from you. “That’s not fair.” 

“Uh uh! You said I just have to ask.” 

“Too damn quick. Maybe you’re hustling me here, too.” 

“You’re stalling.” 

Yoongi grins even wider and softly kisses your forehead, eyes closed. “This isn’t good for me.” 

“Yoongi!” 

“Okay, okay,” he relents through another yawn. “…Yeah.” 

“Then I’m coming over.”

“Hold up, I didn’t say—” 

“It’s decided! I’m getting my stuff.” You head to your room and you hear Yoongi’s amusement follow your strides, and it isn’t until you get there that you realize you’re both very alone in your house. Like you wanted him to be that night on the phone. Like you want it to be all the time.

You grab your bag, wondering if you should pack a toothbrush and a change of clothes—

“Mm. Cute.” 

You shoot up from your hunched position. “Fuck!” Shaking your head, you sigh at the relaxed presence filling your doorframe, “I didn’t even hear you.” 

He pops his eyebrows up. “‘Cus you’re so loud.”

“And?” You watch him lean against the panel of your door, and it brings you back to when you first went to his place, drenched in rainwater and jitters. His hair is brighter this time, but his features are much more cloudy, and you can’t help but feel like his day was long. Maybe even longer than yours. 

What can possibly be happening? 

Noticing his eyes slipping shut, you quickly offer, “Hey. You can sit at the desk. Just no judging.” 

“I said it was cute.” He pushes off of your doorframe and inspects the space in earnest, dumping himself in your desk chair that’s seen many, many days of studying. 

As you’re getting your stuff ready, you remember the times you’ve seen or heard Yoongi walk past your room while in that same seat. You remember how you couldn’t help but glance at him every time, curling your toes or folding your lips together on instinct. 

To go from that to what’s happening now, you smile ruefully at the change.

A soft sound brushes your ear when you have the final item stuffed in your pack. Turning, you realize that Yoongi’s already asleep in your chair, head propped on a sleeved arm. 

Blinking, you feel things clicking into place: the weary call, the tired eyes, the goddamn yawning. Why didn’t you pick up on something so glaringly obvious? Idiot! 

But another thing clicks into place. 

His car is outside.

Shit, if anyone sees it out front and knows your brother isn’t here, the rest of the puzzle connects itself. 

Your packed bag is abandoned as you make your way over to him, deciding that this can go one of two ways. Slowly shaking his shoulder, you whisper his name. 

“Mm.” 

“Would you rather sleep here for a bit? Or have me drive?”

A quick quirk of his mouth precedes a sleepy, “S’okay. I can drive back.” 

Absolutely not. “I won’t let you. Pick one.” 

“Mmph.”

You immediately pick for him. “Lemme have your keys.”

Another sleepy huff of amusement expels from his lips. “So bossy.”

“Deal with it.”

He breathes deep before answering, “Pocket.” 

After checking both his hoodie pockets, you fish them out, softly guiding him up from your chair. “Come on. Let’s go.” 

Huh.

If you aren’t mistaken, you’re pretty sure Yoongi just pouted. 

And you believe it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Even throughout the whole stilted walk to his car, on the way to his place, and guiding him all the way to his room, it’s legitimately the only thing you can think about. And you think you would do anything to see it again. 

“Sleep well, Yoongi,” you whisper as you leave him on his bed. A bed you want to occupy but know you can’t. “Sorry I kept you up.”

In hindsight, you could’ve taken his couch. 

But as you get woken up by vibrations in your own bed, you reason that you made the right decision to get a paid ride back home. You have no idea what Yoongi’s day entails, so it’s better to give him that space. 

Listen to Taehyung. You gotta be careful. Don’t allow yourself to get too attached to someone that doesn’t have the word relationship in their vocabulary.

It’s during the fourth vibration that you realize that you’re getting a call, and you shoot your hand out over your nightstand to check the ID.

Yoongi: Incoming Call

“Hey,” you rasp after a moment of panic, cradling your phone to an upturned ear.

“Hey. Did you drive me home?”

Fuck, his voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Mmhmm.”

“What the fuck. I don’t remember shit.”

“It’s okay.” You breathe through your nose as your eyes slip back shut. “You were exhausted.”

“Apparently. How did you get back?” 

You sleepily rub your eyes, feeling a bit teasing this morning. “I walked.” 

“What? You fuckin’ serious?”

“Yoongi, no,” you giggle. “I got a ride.” 

After prolonged silence on the line, you wonder what could be going through his head. Did you mess up by driving him back? You don’t think so, but it could’ve crossed a line anyways. “Sorry if you didn’t want me driving your car.”

“Nah. I was gonna say thanks.” 

“Oh.” 

You hear a shuffling of activity and a slight jangling of keys. 

“Did you really clear your day?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn. Sorry.”

“S’ok,” you say through a yawn. “Maybe I’ll actually job hunt now.”

“In person?“

A soft laugh puffs out of your mouth. “No, old man. On my laptop.” 

“Mm. So that’s all?”

“I guess so. Hate to break it to you but I’m kinda boring.”

Yoongi’s snort is enough to make you smile.

“Not at all.” 

“Maybe I can try a new boba place.” 

“Do that. Do shit you want today.” 

“I wanted to see you,” you whisper, the warmth from your blankets comfortable yet still no match for his embrace.

After a few seconds, you realize, “Well, I guess I technically did already.” This early revelation causes you to sleepily huff in triumph. “So. Win.” 

You hear a faint chuckle in tandem with a door shut.

“So cute.”

“Nu uh.”

“Uh huh.”

You shut your eyes, feeling dreamland’s approach again. Yoongi’s saying something on the other line, but his words barely register in your current state. 

“I can’t make any promises, doll.” 

“Mm.”

“But I’ll make it up to you regardless.” 

Afternoon sees the beginning of your day, your legs finally leaving the warmth of your sheets hours after your call. 

With dread, you know today will crawl, which won’t fare well for someone in your position—someone that cleared their entire schedule for plans that didn’t come to fruition. 

After you venture to your kitchen, you lean on your island and wonder what the hell to do. 

What you should do and what you want to do are two completely different things. You should be job hunting like you mentioned to Yoongi, but why would you do something so soul-crushing on a Saturday? On a day that you were supposed to—supposedly—spend with him? 

Eventually, you do end up trying that new boba place you heard about from one of your friends, meeting them for a few hours before seeing if Taehyung wanted to have a redemption movie date.

“Aren’t you supposed to be—”

“He’s busy, Tae,” you rush out before he can finish whatever the hell he was going to say. From your spot in the parking lot, you watch cars roll by and people amble the surrounding sidewalks with plastic cups and large straws.

“Doing what?” 

“I dunno.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know? He didn’t tell you?” 

“No.” 

“That’s sus. I’m sorry.” 

“Well,” you purse your lips while absentmindedly playing with your steering wheel. “I didn’t exactly ask, either.” 

“Huh?” 

God. You can picture the exact expression he has on his face right now. 

“You are hopeless.” 

“It just seems weird to ask!” 

“Why?”

“We don’t know each other like that. I can’t bring myself to ask him any personal shit.” 

“You can’t ask him about it? Or you don’t wanna know?” 

You freeze, staring at your dashboard like you’ve just been caught. “Damn. Maybe.” 

“Well. As long as you know what you’re doing.” 

“Tae, I never know what I’m doing.” 

“Lies.” 

You start to inspect your recently manicured nails before tsking. “Well, if we aren’t gonna do the movie thing, I’ll figure something else out.” 

“Yeah, we can. Just gotta be done by nine. I got that date tonight.” 

“If only both of us were that lucky.” 

“If you actually listened to me, maybe we would be.” 

This time, the movie was a much more successful distraction from your thoughts. Taehyung kept his earlier promise of not prying, and the two of you instead had a film to praise instead of critique to the ground.

In fact, you were so into the whole thing that you completely missed an update from him. 

Yoongi [7:20pm]: Free soon 

Soon? Rechecking the time, you realize that it has been a long ass time since then. Weird. 

Walking to your car, you slip a message into the thread before getting inside. 

You [8:50pm]: Still busy?

He texts back a few minutes later. But that was three of the longest minutes of your life. 

Yoongi [8:53pm]: Yeah 

Worry eats away at you, and a million and one possibilities race through your mind, each one vying to be first to conclusions. Pulling into the street, you hope they all lose. 

Fuck. You hate this feeling and you hate that you can’t bring yourself to fix it. Why can’t you be like Taehyung and just ask? Sure, getting money back is much different than dealing with Yoongi, but. Are you really that scared of what his answers to your questions would be? What exactly makes this so hard even though you know what he’s like? 

Is it because, for a brief moment on that phone call weeks ago, that you felt special? Like you meant something to him? 

As you fill your entryway with your dark cloud, you sigh. Grappling with all of your worries at once is incredibly draining and yet, you can’t do the one thing that would take care of most of them. 

You want to believe that he’s legitimately busy. You need to. Goddamn, you’re an adult and so is he.

And if he’s actually with someone else and not telling you? Fuck him. Even if he’s Min Yoongi, you cannot let a guy give you this much grief. 

Dumping yourself on your couch, you bury your face in the crook of your arm—mad with him, the world, but mostly yourself. 

You wanna travel back in time. 

Not too far. Just to the moment you both existed on the bleachers on that basketball court, before you were faced with the prospect of being just someone else he had on his schedule. 

Yoongi: Incoming Call 

Fuck, you answered faster than you could even process. 

“Hi—”

“I hate when people can’t do their job.” 

Holy crap. That came out of nowhere. Immediately, you’re sitting up. “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

Exasperation blows through the line.

“Long story. But I’m finally off. You want anything?” 

Motherfucker. 

Finally off. He was working. 

What the fuck. Why the hell were you even worried? Why didn’t you just ask! What the hell is wrong with you? Why couldn’t you do something so damn simple? 

You want to fucking cry. 

Your lips quake when you reply, “I… I’m fine with anything.”

“What’s wrong, doll?” 

“Nothing.” Your laugh is hollow and your throat is clogged. “Nothing.” 

“Don’t lie to me.”

Hanging your head, you hope your voice sounds neutral when you say, “Really, it’s stupid and I’m fine! It’s okay.” 

Yoongi seems to make a decision after a second, and the way he says your name—not a nickname, not anything else—takes all the oxygen from your lungs.

“Where are you?”

“Home. If you need to go home, it’s okay—” 

“Don’t. I’m on the way.” 

The call abruptly ends after that, which leaves you sitting on your sofa with rain in your palms.

Yoongi sounded so exhausted, and now he has to deal with you. You feel absolutely awful for adding any unnecessary stress to his day, and you already feel some tears slipping through your fingers.

God, you’re so fucking frustrated. Why didn’t you do literally anything else today except worry? You could’ve run errands, job hunted like you needed to, or at least been as productive as he apparently was. Now you just feel regretful and useless. 

Yoongi texts you a good handful of minutes later, and you swipe away your tears before heading to the front. 

You vow to put on a happy face when you swing the door open but holy fuck he’s in jeans and a white tee and you’re suddenly spellbound. His wild hair distracts you to the point that you don’t even realize that he’s shutting the door instead of you.

Gripping the back of your head, he forces you to look him in the eye, the wood banging closed before he questions,

“Were you worried?”

You tense before slowly nodding. 

Yoongi darts his eyes between yours. “How long?” 

“I…” Your eyelids slip shut with resignation. “Since basketball.” 

Yoongi lets go of your neck, and you blink to see him looking into the house behind you, gnawing on his bottom lip and inhaling deep. 

You wonder what he’s thinking, what lies behind that hardened expression on his face. 

Is he upset with you for worrying? Does he think he made a mistake making any sort of plans with someone like you? 

He’s muttering something under his breath, but his voice is so gravelly and deep that you can’t make out a single word.

It’s a drawn-out moment before he finally moves again, slinging his arms around your neck with a sigh and pressing his forehead against yours. His voice sounds like nighttime when he softly asks, 

“You seeing anyone?” 

You blink. “No.”

“Same.” He moves to press his lips to your temple. “Been dodging shit since the night you called.” 

You feel your lips tremble. What a fucking idiot you’ve been. 

Though stress is already slipping off your shoulders in clumps, you can’t help but point out with a clogged throat, “That was two weeks ago.”

“And?” 

You inhale his scent, closing your eyes and berating yourself again for jumping to so many conclusions. “I dunno. Just feels like awhile for you.” 

You feel rather than see Yoongi’s mouth curve up as he huffs out a short breath. “Is that what you think of me?” 

“Mm.” You shrug. “I don’t have any new evidence.” 

It’s after this that he props up your chin, his eyes already creased behind loose orange locks. “Smartass.” 

Your smile is rueful at best, and you hate how fucking obvious you were to him. Yoongi probably thinks you’re pathetic. 

But he doesn’t harbor any pity in his face as he reiterates, “I told you. All you have to do is ask. If you’re thinking something, say it.” 

For the first time, it’s your turn to look away. 

Taehyung’s words echo in your mind, and his advice coupled with Yoongi’s insistence finally breaks the dam in your mouth. Everything you’ve been wanting to say surges out in waves as you take a step back.

“I just— I dunno. I don’t wanna pry with you because I don’t know you like that yet. And the other day, Tae said something about you acting weird lately and maybe you found a regular or whatever and I just— I‘ve just been so…” You sigh as your gaze falls to your feet. “You keep telling me to tell you stuff, but I barely get anything from you. And that’s whatever, I guess. It’s not like... I mean. It just feels one-sided.” 

Well. The confidence certainly wasn’t there, but at least you got it all out. Taehyung would have to at least give you a pat on the back for your efforts and, though you may not also score a free movie date, you feel damn accomplished. 

Even though, from the looks of things, you may have just put distance between you and the man that shamelessly came to your house while your brother is gone. Twice.

Fuck. 

Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, face full of shadows and conflict. You don’t know what else to do except wait, so you do, hoping that you didn’t ruin anything. 

But he just looks at you before a resigned whoosh of air leaves his nose. “Get your stuff.”

“What?”

Yoongi tilts his head towards your room. “Your stuff.” He quickly exhales before continuing, “I’ll tell you everything in the car.”

“Oh,” you breathe, anticipation bubbling furiously as you regard him one more time. “You sure?” 

“Go, doll.” 

It doesn’t take you long to grab your things, especially since you didn’t unpack what you already put together the night before but never used. You hope the backpack isn’t too conspicuous, planning on using your laptop as the top excuse for that big of a bag. 

But the walk to his car is quiet and charged, and it isn’t until you’re a few blocks out that Yoongi finally decides to talk. 

“You remember Kook?”

Huh? 

That isn’t how you expected things to start, especially if it’s who you think he’s referring to. 

Sucking in a breath, you clarify, “Kook? …Jungkook?”

“Yeah.” 

Yes. 

Yes, you do. 

You remember Jungkook very well. 

“Mmhmm,” is all you can say, voice in the tiniest font possible. Looking out the window, you refocus your vision to see the reflection of your worry instead of the passing scenery.

“Well, he runs a studio here now. Downtown.” 

You swallow. While you know a lot of things about the guy, you didn’t know this bit. “Oh. That’s dope.” 

“That’s where I’ve been.” 

You snap wide eyes to him, stunned by multiple things. One, a name you didn’t expect to hear come up. And two, the fact that Yoongi’s even telling you this. 

Yes, the conversations have been a bit one-sided, but it’s not like the two of you are even a thing. Hell, you’ve barely seen each other and it’s almost been a whole year since you first approached him. 

Technically, he doesn’t owe you any explanations at all. 

So the fact that Yoongi—a very private person—is willing to share something about his life just to erase any worries you have, makes you feel things you don’t want to feel right now. Never mind the Jungkook thing. Looking back, you’re shocked that he didn’t just bounce after your mini rant. How did you even end up in his car after that? 

“Oh…” is all you can say, again. “That explains the music stuff.” 

“Kinda,” Yoongi says, low. “But anyway, I was a nobody when I got there. Then some shit went down and now it’s just me and two other people, so. I got work out the ass.” 

“Damn, I’m sorry.”

“That’s not it.” He runs long fingers through his fiery hair, and you’re temporarily distracted by the clinking of his bracelets. “We got a project deadline that I highly doubt we’ll make. Even if we go nonstop everyday for the next week.”

“When’s the deadline?” 

“The dude needs his files by next Friday.” 

“Shit. Why am I even coming over?”

The trip to his place is short, his car already rolling up to his apartment. “Don’t worry about that. I’m peacing out early tomorrow,” he proclaims before hoisting himself out.

“What!” You don’t even see him rounding the car when you shove your door open, eyes wide and mouth hung open. 

“That’s the plan,” he confirms after a few steps, disappearing around the corner that hides his place from the parking lot. 

Padding quickly after him, you refuse with every step, “No no. Hell no. You shouldn’t do that just because of me.” 

He shoots a quick smirk your way before moving to unlock his door. “It’s for me, too, doll. I’m fuckin’ beat.” 

As you’re greeted by his dark apartment, your whispers pass the threshold with your sagging shoulders. “Yoongi… I’m sorry for bothering you with all this. I’ve been so stupid.” 

“Nah. This is on me. I could’ve just told you.” 

Shucking off your bag and placing it next to your shoes with a thump, you assure him—because you really feel the need to—with a whisper, “You can, you know. You can tell me things any time. I mean it.” 

Yoongi just huffs out of his nose before looking away, his tiredness accentuated by faint moonlight seeping through nearby blinds. “It’s all bullshit. I don’t wanna bother you with it.” 

“You’re not.” It’s your turn to take his face in your hands. And the action stuns you just as much as him. “I feel like you’re keeping a lot of stuff to yourself and that’s not healthy. Obviously I’m the last one to talk, but. I know what that feels like. It sucks.” 

There’s a bit of settled silence after your last word dissipates. In the dark of the room, all you can see is his white shirt, now a faint blue. 

Did you say too much? Offer something you shouldn’t have? 

Well. He can deal. After witnessing the self-destruction of your day in real time, you meant every word. 

Yoongi finally moves, slowly sliding a hand over one of yours. His voice seeps out like honey when he asks, “Think you’re so smart, huh?” 

“No. I’m an idiot.” 

He laughs. 

“But I mean it.” You press your fingers around his jawline a bit tighter, willing your intentions to transfer right into his mind. “It’s okay. You can tell me.” 

His eyes search your face, and you feel like you can wait forever to hear his answer. It’s the second time you see something besides confidence in his face, and it makes you scared and content and something else you can’t quite place. 

So when he lowers his gaze to your lips and tells you to just fucking kiss him, you smash your mouth on his before he even gets the words out. 

The next batch of seconds is a whirlwind, both of you stumbling with purpose to his room. Every time you try to look into the darkness to see where you’re going, your jaw is gripped and your lips are claimed. Over and over and over. Your breath caressing his mouth; his groans invading your throat—everything is happening at once and comes to a head as your back connects with his door. 

A groan rips from your throat before a satisfied laugh follows, and the twist in sounds causes Yoongi to pause on his way to grip his doorknob. 

You aim a look of question his way, but he simply hums in amusement before diving to your neck, scorching your skin with his saliva and pent-up frustrations. 

“Yoongi,” you whine, gripping his shirt and tugging him impossibly close to you like you did in your own entryway. And once you say his name, it’s the only thing you chant, even while he yanks his door open and during your rushed fall onto his bed. 

He quickly follows suit, smothering your body lovely and capturing your lips once more. With a passing thought, you notice that he’s much quieter this time, not having said a single word since you started. 

Holy fuck, you’re here again. Excitement cannot even begin to describe the way you feel, for what exists in your chest feels much too intense for any known language. 

As Yoongi brings a hand up to grip the bottom of your shirt, you feel a wave of shakes overcome you—shakes that have been kept dormant for almost a year. Pure want is what causes your hands to grab his tee in reply, and your voice is heavy with pleas,

“Yoongi… I missed…”

“Mm.”

“So much.” 

He kisses the side of your mouth—rough—before shoving your legs open and pressing himself against your center. Though he still doesn’t respond with words, his answer is very, truly loud. 

And when he straightens into a kneel to yank his shirt off, it is then that you notice glints of moonlight around his neck. 

Oh, fuck. How did you not feel those chains at all? 

Yoongi doesn’t give you time to ponder, grabbing your shirt and pulling it up until you adjust yourself for its removal. It’s quickly flung to join his before he’s reaching around to unhook your bra, using one hand while digging the other into his mattress. 

As your bare chest is claimed by hot lips, you decide that you like both Yoongi’s—both the talkative and the silent. While the talkative Yoongi brought out the beautifully dark parts of you, the silent Yoongi allows you to simply feel without thoughts. Only the sounds of your lust burst around the bed, a symphony with the rustling of your discarded pants and rumpling of soft sheets. It’s still passionate; it’s still toe-curling; it’s still volcanic. 

Lost in throes of pleasure, your body relies purely on instinct, legs sliding along his body and your hands hastily searching for anything to grip. When your fingers find the chains sliding along your sternum, the deep chuckle that rumbles above you is full of mischief. 

Finally, Yoongi speaks to simply make fun of you. “Adorable.” 

You don’t get to reply, though. Because this is the moment he decides to cup you through your underwear, growling with furrowed brows, “Holy fuck.” 

No matter what, this part will always embarrass you. The way you’re so easily affected by the man crushing you with the best burden you could ask for. Igniting under your skin, you try to hide your smile with a lip bite, but Yoongi only laughs, slow.

“So fucking wet.”  

You flinch at his sudden swirling movements, shutting your eyes in pure instinct and sighing up to his fiery locks. “Just for… Just for you.” 

Instead of stripping your last piece of clothing, Yoongi does something that has your head spinning off its axis—pushing the material aside and sliding his fingers up your slick folds. 

You jolt upward. “Fuck! Oh, my god.” 

Laugh full of smugness, Yoongi replies, “I knew you’d like this. Dirty girl.” 

Holy shit. You knew that you missed his fingers, especially being where they are. But what’s happening now blows your expectations to pieces. 

It feels so different. Why does it feel so much dirtier? Why are you absolutely loving this? You’re envisioning other scenarios where Yoongi would do this same exact thing, your head clouding more with every single one.  

And when he admits something, your hands leave his jewelry to grip the sheets around you instead. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this for months.” 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, throwing your head back as he softly caresses your clit. 

“Every fucking time I saw you.” 

Another teasing flick of his thumb. 

“Wanted to get you in every room and make you scream.” 

You finally whine with frustration, unable to take it anymore. The coil in your belly is already twisting incredibly tight. You need more. More more more and if you don’t get it you’re going to combust. “Yoongi! Oh, fuck—Please, I need you.” 

“Not yet, baby girl,” he responds, “You’re gonna come around my fingers so I can lick’em clean.”

“Yoongi!” 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” 

Fuck! More.You need more. 

But Yoongi starts to insert his digits into your cunt and your mind blanks. You repeat his name like a mantra, digging the back of your head into his mattress. 

“That’s it, doll,” he encourages, “Fuck, you take these so well.” 

“Yoongi, please…” 

“Uh uh.” 

You throw your head to the side, limbs locking as your body rocks on his fingers. “Please,” you beg, “I want— I need you inside.” 

Immediately, Yoongi stops altogether. “You sure?”

“Yes! Oh my god, yes.” 

“Say less.”

There’s a complete switch in both your movements when he finally realizes what you really want and need. His chains swing from his neck as he leans to grab a condom from his nightstand, but your hands grab at his chest instead of the weighty strings of silver. 

“Please,” you keep whispering, raking your nails along his skin and pulling a groan from his throat. “Please.” 

After he deftly tears the wrapper, Yoongi puffs mirth onto your awaiting form. “I like this part of you.” 

“What part?” 

“Impatient ass.”

“Shut up!” 

He grins before caging you in again, aligning himself with your cunt and making you tense your legs around him. 

It’s what you’ve been wanting ever since leaving that day, and from Yoongi’s face, you’d like to think he feels the same. 

He looks at you, silent, waiting for your cue. And just like before, the same feeling blooms in your chest while butterflies take flight into your fingertips, raising them to slightly tug on a necklace while nodding. 

Your eyes almost roll all the way into your head when Yoongi pushes your panties to the side, insistent on keeping them on while fucking you. Goddamn, you’re finding out new shit you like again. How he’s able to provide these sexual revelations, you can’t fathom but don’t want to question. 

The intrusion still has its initial discomfort, but your cunt adjusts to accommodate him, fluttering fast and milking him after seconds. 

A deep groan falls from his lips. “So tight.” 

Nodding, you offer your own observation, “Big. Very big.”

A half wince-half laugh leaves his mouth, and his jaw works in concentration, brows knitting and teeth biting his bottom lip.

“Oh, my god.” You throw your head back for the upteenth time, hands coming up to grip his arms. “This feels so good.” 

“Fuck, baby.”

Breathing hard, you start to tilt your hips, impatience and lust fueling your order, “Fuck me. Fuck me, Yoongi.” 

You don’t get a reply—just the long thrust of his dick before he launches into a frantic pace. 

Fuck! You see stars. You’re launched into the sky. You don’t know time from space as your head gets closer and closer to his headboard, your pelvis constantly getting smacked by his rough pounding. 

“So fucking—Fuck!” 

Yoongi grabs one of your legs and slings it over his shoulder, pushing himself incredibly deep and making you whine impossibly high. The new angle has him hitting a spot that has your vision blanking, and holy shit it’s impossible how close you are. 

How? What’s wrong with you? How are you about to come?

“Yoongi, I’m—I’m so close already—”

“Goddamn, I feel you. Lemme feel it, babe.”

“So fast—”

His voice dips when he growls, “I love it. Fucking do it.” 

You can barely hear what he says next, but your body still reacts as if it understands. 

Filth. Absolute filth. It has to be. Words and names that you want him to say louder but are too embarrassed to tell him. Phrases that you want him to say right to your face. 

But just him muttering it is enough for you, and you gasp as euphoria overcomes you, shaking you from your core and rattling your bones. Waves crash against your proverbial shore and the undercurrents take you simultaneously, and your trembling leaks into your moans,

“Fuck! Yoongi!”

“That’s it, babe. Fuck!” 

He keeps pounding into you through your high, tightening your core enough for you to snap again around him, gushing around his cock and straining the muscles in your neck. An outright groan tears from your throat, and the ceiling feels strangely close for a few seconds before you thump back down onto the bed. 

Just like last time, Yoongi follows right after. “Oh fuck, I’m—”

“You gonna come, too—”

“Fuck. Turn over. Lemme see this ass.” 

The urgency in his voice spurns you into action. Though you’ve never done this before, you let your body take over, twisting yourself and lifting your butt from the mattress. The wet sound of the condom snapping off hits your ears and, before you can anticipate what this will feel like, your underwear is tugged to your thighs before hot spurts coat your skin. Quickly, a wet hand grips one of your plump cheeks, making you moan into the pillow smothering your sudden shyness. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi grits through his teeth as you hear his fingers slide along his cock. “Goddamn.” 

You feel like it should be awkward, or at least strange to be in this position. 

But it’s not. 

You don’t know if it’s because you’re satiated, or if it’s because of who you’re with, but you find that you don’t mind this at all. The only uncomfortable thing that you feel is a bit of draft from the open bedroom door. 

A sweaty hand slides along the curve of your ass before patting its side, and you hear a sigh above you.

“So perfect.” 

You bury your forehead further down, not knowing what to do other than wait and wonder how you’re gonna get all of his essence off of you. 

“One sec. Don’t move.” 

Oh. He’s gonna do it. 

It’s not long before you feel a soft towel swipe everything from your back, and the care in his movements makes you both happy and incredibly, embarrassingly shy. You would think that Yoongi’s wiping a vinyl with how tender he’s treating your damp skin.  

As he slides a hand over you to see if he missed anything, you sigh, “That went way too fast.”

A chuckle. “What, never did a quickie before?”

You have. But you never came during those. You have never come that fast in your goddamn life. “I mean, in a bedroom, though?” 

“Happens.” 

Maybe for him, you muse with a huff. 

But with every fuck in his room comes the next step. The soft kick you’re anticipating with a heavy chest. 

So much for an hour tops. You’re pretty sure that only lasted—

Yoongi playfully slaps your ass, the shock of the motion jolting you forward. 

“Ow! Rude!”

A laugh. “You can move now.” 

With a huff, you force your body up and slide your feet down to the ground, teetering side to side as you make your way to the bathroom with a stretched pair of panties.

When you’re done, you fully expect Yoongi to be up to walk you out. You got what you came for, just like the last time, and you know what to expect next. 

However, that’s not what you see. Instead, he’s lying back on his bed in a simple tee and sweats, feet planted on the ground and eyes closed shut. 

Shit. Do you wake him? Do you initiate the kick and find a ride again? 

Lamenting the amount you’re spending on ride apps alone, another thought enters your post-sex mind. 

Does he still need to eat? 

From the phone call and getting context to his day, it seemed like Yoongi didn’t get to do anything else but work. Hopefully he did sneak a meal in, but if he didn’t, that can’t be good. 

You go over to him after putting on the only change of clothes you brought. Placing a palm on his shoulder, you give him a light shake. “Yoongi?”

“Hmm.” 

“You should eat.” 

His brows move before he responds, voice heavy with sleep and disappointment. “Shit. I didn’t get food for you.” 

For you? That’s what he’s worried about right now? Your chest swells while your stomach grumbles. “Don’t worry about me. I can order something. Or make something if I can use your kitchen real quick.”  

Another breath. Another pause.

“Course you can.” 

Smiling light, you gently pat him. “Okay. Get in bed, dummy.” Slowly but surely, you get him into a sitting position before making him stand, melting at the furrowed brows and second pout you get in return. 

He looks so much younger when he does that. It’s so out of his normal character that you can’t help but be endeared. “This is the second time I’m tucking you in. Does this always happen?”

“Mmph.”

After a small struggle, you guide him to lie down on the side of the bed you think he uses, the one closer to his bathroom. It seems to work, and he thumps down onto his pillow without any further arguments. 

Another grateful smile carves itself into your features when you think about everything that happened tonight. 

Yoongi was obviously so exhausted—again—and yet… 

Not only did he reveal things about his personal life, he made sure you knew he wasn’t seeing anyone. Not only did he put up with your mountain of insecurities, he made sure you got the point by bringing you into his bed again. 

You shake your head. 

Even if he doesn’t mind your outstanding ability to worry and overthink, you know it’s going to frustrate you until you can get it under some fucking control.  

It’s with a vow to do so that you start to walk away.

But before you even go, a hand catches your wrist. 

Your eyes snap downward as you tense, wondering how Yoongi knew you were still there. Isn’t he asleep? 

“Sorry.” 

You blink. “For what?”

“Making…” A soft exhale. “Making you worry.” 

Warmth blooms in your chest, gently searing the edges of your surrounding bones. “That’s just me being me,” you whisper, though you’re touched that he’s even apologizing. 

Yeah, he didn’t tell you anything, but you get it now. How can he know what you’re feeling if you don’t say anything? How would he really know what you want if you don’t ask?

If you’re going to do this… whatever, with him, you can’t keep having days like today. Can’t keep driving yourself into the ground with conclusions when all you need to do is ask.  

Yoongi’s voice is so, so low when he responds, “You shouldn’t ever need to.” 

Understanding coats your face as you tenderly take his fingers from your arm. 

With the conversation over, you know what you have to do next. Because you’re not exclusive. You’re not different from everyone else that’s been in his bed. There aren’t any special privileges that come with tucking him in. No overthinking about that. 

With a big breath, you say goodbye. 

“I’ll go, okay? I’ll just make something when I get home. I know you don’t like people st—”

“Don’t.” 

Time freezes. 

“What?” 

Slowly turning back to face him, you watch for any hint of mistake in his face. What did he say? Did he even mean to cut you off? 

After a rise and fall of his shoulders, you feel your heart stop when the last thing Yoongi says before slumber takes him is a soft, genuine, 

“Stay.” 

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tbc. :)