#3tan9

Yoongi nods, holding some coffee in one hand and what was supposed to be food in the other—car keys being the useless substitute. Since he was so caught up in his headspace, he completely forgot to make food, stretching the already long day just a bit longer.

If you were there, you definitely would’ve made sure he didn’t go empty-handed.

Fuck, he needs to focus. 

But it’s getting hard for him not to be relieved to see you later. Not after how cute you sounded on the phone after the party. Not after seeing you in a sundress. 

Not after legitimately missing your company.

Fuck. Seriously, he needs to quit.

The guys are already back to work, listening to the same five second snippet he heard when he opened the door. As Yoongi puts his stuff down, he observes from the back.

It seems they’re not satisfied with something they hear. At least, from their neck rubs and folded arms, he bets that’s the case.

Another replay. 

Damn, they’re in the zone. Aside from asking if he was in all day, neither of them have said a word to him. 

Well, he’s fucking beat anyway. They can ask for his input if they need it. For now, he’s planting himself on the back sofa and resting his head while he can. 

Namjoon stands resolute before coming to some decision. “Again.”

“Okay.”

Both of them listen intently until the playback stops, their agitation visible in shoulder raises and slow steps toward the console.

“You hear it?”

“Yeah.” Hoseok deepens his brows for a pass before tilting his head, tone just as low as Joon’s. “The hell is that?”

Yoongi hunches forward, resting elbows on his knees.

Who is he kidding? He didn’t come to the studio to rest. He wants in. 

Interrupting with a raspy morning voice of his own, he asks, “What’s up?”

Namjoon doesn’t turn as he bends to operate his mouse. “Something sounds off, but.” He tsks. “When we try to adjust, it sounds worse.”

“Run it back.”

Yoongi perks his ears when the snippet repeats again, staring at his shoes instead of the screen for maximum focus.

And he hears it: the subtle hint of something extra. Unwanted sound. “The hi hat?” 

“Maybe.”

“Lemme see.” 

They get what he means, fiddling around with the workspace and isolating each track to see what’s up. Sounds like it could be feedback or whatever, but he’s not too familiar with drums yet. Not as good as someone that’s not present.

Speaking of. “Where’s Kook?”

Hoseok lifts his head before answering, “Out back. Taking a call.”

“About time.”

“I know, right? Haven’t gotten shit all weekend.”

It’s true. Yoongi not only didn’t hear from you until your adorable text, but he also hadn’t heard from the studio. Not a single word from Jungkook. 

Wait a sec. “Hold up. Now? This early?”

“Time zones,” Namjoon notes. 

“Mm.” 

The only messages he got were from both people present, with one asking if anyone else got updates and the other quadruple texting out of nervousness.  

And he understood. The silence was a bit worrisome considering the timeline. But Yoongi knew there wasn’t anything he could do about it personally, so it was easy to deal with. 

“Ah,” Joon whispers with a triumphant fingersnap. “There.” 

“What.”

“Damn bleed from another drum.” 

Nice. So Yoongi knows that he at least got some hold of it. Sucks that they didn’t catch it during the recording session, but. They don’t have time to do any overdubs unless the kid can somehow swing it. “Should we toss it?”

“Lemme check.”

“Hey.”

All of them turn to see Jungkook enter, a bit out of sorts as the door closes with a solid click. 

Hoseok beats anyone else to the question—though Yoongi moreso asks in his own head, “What’s up, dude?”

Knitted brows aimed at the floor, the boy sighs, “They’re gonna call back later.”

“Huh?”

“You were out there for awhile,” Namjoon points out, already looking back at his monitor. “What was that about?“

Jungkook scoffs while grabbing a bag of chips from his backpack, “I was on hold.” When he straightens, the ring on his chain swings into his chest. “Then the call dropped, so I called back.”

Amusement leaves Yoongi in a puff. “You didn’t throw your phone?”

“If I didn’t fall asleep, I would’ve.”

“Probably why they hung up.”

The kid shoots affronted brows at Joon. “Nu uh! It dropped, it dropped.”   

“This isn’t good for me,” Hobi quickly comments, nerves sprinkled on his words. “Aren’t we behind schedule?”

It’s possible that they could be if things aren’t moved along soon. But it’s not like they can do anything to speed things up.

“Wouldn’t sweat it now,” Joon advises while clicking a few other things. “At least when this part isn’t up to us.”

“I know, but. Still.”

“Focus on this, Hob. Don’t let it get to you.”

“Uh huh.” After a second of silence, Hoseok finally nods, exhaustion evident under his eyes now that nerves aren’t keeping him alert. “Okay.”

Before Yoongi can get up, he sees a hand enter his vision.

Damn, this kid looks stressed as hell. Is he sleeping? 

He greets with a dap before scooting over to make room on the couch. While Hobi and Joon make more headway on the project, he gets pulled into his own conversation.

“Hey.” 

“Sup.” 

“Thanks for coming.”

“Mm.” 

The blond opens his chips, and the crinkling makes Yoongi think back. Back to all the late nights the kid would tag along—always had a snack wherever they went, from gas stations to abandoned buildings to rooftops. 

The slight hum of early morning still coats the room, and Jungkook’s groggy tone adds right to it. “You good if I nap for a bit?”

Yoongi’s head bobs once. “You’re the one that just opened the chips.”

Joining his amusement, a sleepy laugh whooshes into the bag. “Ah, wasn’t thinking straight. Just wanted to grab something, I guess.” 

Definitely stressed. And more nervous than usual.

Not that anyone can blame him. If anything, Yoongi’s proud of the kid for even getting them this far. You can’t pull a whole studio out from near shutdown unless you had a certain amount of grit.

Not that they all don’t have plenty. Jungkook’s just the one molding all their raw talent into something worth buying.

And he stubbornly wants to do it alone.

“Give it,” Yoongi quietly orders, taking the food from a hand that doesn’t move. “Go nap.” 

Without blinking or turning, Jungkook nods, letting seconds pass before he actually vacates the couch. 

When he’s at the door, Hoseok turns, 

“When you wake up, can you help us out with the drums?” 

“Yeah.” He yawns, long and wide, before agreeing. “Hit me if I sleep for too long.” 

After he leaves, Yoongi stashes the folded bag before standing behind the others. Pocketing his hands, he tries not to think about anything else besides what’s in front of him. 

If you can focus on your work shit, he can, too.

“Run it again.” 

The rest of the day is full of project time. Aside from the occasional restroom break or beverage run, they’d made steady progress. 

In a stroke of good fortune, they were also able to figure out the true source of the sound bleed, and a more awake Jungkook was able to redo the drum parts they needed to toss. 

After that, it was even more smooth sailing, and the production was starting to shape into something everyone liked. 

Even Hoseok, the most picky of them all, slowly but convincingly started to run out of critiques. 

It was during a playback that Jungkook’s phone rang and, as soon as he saw who it was, he quickly excused himself and left the room in a rush. 

Which is where Yoongi finds himself an hour later—quiet, contemplative, and hungry. 

How long are these calls? Do they always take this long? 

Hoseok checks out the door while he mirrors his sentiments, “Where is he? I’m starving.”

“I don’t know,” Namjoon responds from his chair, head resting on knuckles while he scrolls through his phone. “Feel like he should be back by now, though.” 

“Same.”

“Also, are y’all going on Friday?”

“I’ll be there,” Yoongi answers first, wondering if that came out a certain way. 

Hobi responds right after, “Yeah. I missed out on Sunday.” 

“There was something on Sunday?”

“Bro, you were invited!” 

Namjoon looks thoroughly shocked before he dives right into his messages, and Yoongi shoots him a small look of pity to go with a bubbly laugh. 

“Oh, shit, I was.” 

“All that reading and you couldn’t read an invite.”     

“Wow. Okay, Yoong.” 

Hoseok bursts into laughter again—

“Fuck!”

Yoongi looks toward the swinging door with the others, taking note of the look on Jungkook’s face. 

And the mood immediately changes.

It’s Namjoon that speaks first, brows furrowed. “Good fuck or bad fuck?”

“Never had a bad fuck in my life. But it’s—I dunno. I can’t decide.”

Decide what? Yoongi goes back to working on the console when Hoseok repeats,

“You can’t decide? What’d they say?”

Immediately, Jungkook waves off the question, “Oh, no, I’m not talking about that.”

“Uh. Why not?” He laughs, and Yoongi bets he’s rubbing his chest because he sounds anxious as hell. “I can’t stand waiting.” 

“Call went fine. They’re almost done. But! That’s not important. I saw her.” 

Her? The hell is he talking about now?

Maybe Yoongi’s just missed a lot. Not like he can think of much else other than—

“Kook, you’re doing it again,” Joon comments, back to working on some adjustments. “We don’t know what you mean.”

“Sorry, I’m just…” The sound of rumpled leather reaches Yoongi’s ears, and when he swivels his chair a bit, he catches Jungkook sitting on the back couch—food container in his hands.

Huh. 

He looks starstruck.

Must’ve been a celebrity or something. Though Yoongi doesn’t know why anyone would be coming around unless they booked a session. And they haven’t gotten one in a minute. 

“Ah, never mind. I’m good,” the boy proclaims, heavy shoes thumping on the ground. “But yeah, the call went fine. Everything should be finalized in two weeks.” 

“Damn, that’s cutting it close.” 

“The closest, actually.” 

“Holy shit, though,” Hoseok whispers in excitement. “That means we did that shit!” 

“Fuck yeah, we did! Never doubted us for a second.” 

“Lie.”

“Okay, maybe a few seconds.” 

Yoongi huffs before shaking his head, mind racing with the possibilities this could bring to their doorstep. What was once just something he could imagine is taking shape, and he doesn’t know how to feel. 

Is all this what having a future is like?

As the room rides the high of Jungkook’s announcement, Yoongi decides that he wants more of it. In a lot of other aspects of his life. 

“Wait, did you get food, too?”

Hoseok’s question comes out part-curious, part-jealous, which makes Namjoon snort.

“Ah, this?” Jungkook pauses for a second, and Yoongi wonders if he just doesn’t wanna admit that he did, or he’s gonna come up with some excuse. 

It’s both.

“These are leftovers.”

“Uh huh,” Hoseok deadpans, adjusting his snapback while the boy laughs. “Well, I’m gonna get something before I pass out.” 

“Hey, get me some, too,” Joon requests over his shoulder. “Nothing expensive, though.” 

Yoongi’s quick to point out the obvious. “It’s downtown. You know everything’s overpriced.”

“I got us!” 

He said what?

Both of them give Hobi a look, and Yoongi spots Jungkook stuff something in his mouth that looks a lot like mandu. 

“You sure?”

“Hell yeah. We’re about to get paid, right?”

Yoongi huffs once while Namjoon sighs. “It’s your money, I guess.”

Hoseok gives them a wink and thumbs up before heading out, and Jungkook’s laugh has to push through food.

“That was different.”

“He’s awake now, huh.”

“Mm.” 

After the rest of them get back to work, Jungkook takes Hoseok’s place, standing to provide his input from time to time. 

But he’s quieter than usual. 

Which is as curious as the way you haven’t sent any texts yet.

An hour later, when Yoongi finishes his bathroom break, the first thing he spots in the hall is Jungkook. Next to their vending machine. Staring hard at the chained ring in his hand.

Something happened when he was out.

He’s been completely different ever since he came back. Even when a few girls stopped by, he shooed them off so quick that it was comical. 

And he never turns chicks away.

When Yoongi nears, he decides to stop, leaning against the opposite wall with hands stuffed deep in his hoodie. “You good?” 

Damn, the kid didn’t even know he was there. “Oh. Yeah.”

“You sure?”

After a quick purse of his lips, Jungkook shakes his head and instead glares at the glass-guarded food. “Nah.”

Interesting. Yoongi knows that this guy can get moody, but this is a whole other level. It’s like his mind is on a completely different planet.

At least, a further planet than the one it usually runs off to. 

“I see,” Yoongi mutters, feeling like he’s done his due diligence in asking. “Well. If you’re gonna stand there, lemme have a drink.”

Jungkook huffs a small laugh before stepping over. “My bad. I just…” He stares at the ground before asking, mostly to himself, 

“Have you ever loved someone?”

Ah. 

Can he go now?

Instead of answering straight, he decides to dodge. “Have you?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook looks down the hall. “But, uhm. It’s only happened once.”

Yoongi’s surprised it’s happened at all. 

“Thought you never got past one night shit.”

“I wasn’t always like that.” 

“Mm.” He can relate. There was a brief time in his life where that was the case. 

“But I’d”—Jungkook fidgets, messing up his hair without even realizing—“I’d give all that up for her.”

Damn. “Serious?”

“If she ever wanted to try again? Yeah.” 

“Who? Feel like you’ve run through the whole town at this point.”

At this, there isn’t a response right away. Or even after a few moments. 

The silence pulls Yoongi’s eyes toward his companion, and he furrows his brows at the look he sees. 

Is that embarrassment? Disappointment?

No. 

It’s regret.

Who the hell did he run into that’s making him so new? 

“Nah, it’s not—uhm. Not anyone…” Jungkook’s smile is small, a thousand memories stored in that melancholic bend. “It’s just someone I didn’t think I’d see again.”

Wait.

“You might remember her. Actually, yeah! You know her brother.”

Shit. 

Don’t say your name.

Not with that face. 

Not with all the stars you saw that one night in his eyes. 

…Fuck.

Right after the one name he didn’t wanna hear comes out of Jungkook’s mouth, Yoongi feels everything... 

Fade.

“When I saw her? Fuck, my heart almost stopped.”

Hope is what leaves him first. But oxygen follows close behind, getting harder and harder to consume. 

How did you even see him? Why are you downtown instead of—

Were you coming to the studio? Is your interview somewhere close? Do you even know what the studio is called have you been talking to… 

You said you remembered Jungkook.

But you never said anything else.

What all did you remember? What does he not know?

All you told him about were your relationships in university. Was Jungkook before all of that? What happened?

He’s touching the ring again.

…Did you love him, too?

“Everything was coming back to me and I just. I probably scared her with how hard I hugged her.” 

As Jungkook nervously laughs, Yoongi feels himself shutting down. Slipping, falling, plummeting back into the dark. Below where he was before, which was already considerably cold.

You were able to pull him upward.

Is he really about to let go?

Say something. He has to say something, right? Why can’t he bring himself to say anything? 

“Anyway. Sorry for dumping all that on you. I know you don’t care about that stuff.”

He doesn’t even have you.

So why does this feel like a loss?

“It’s all good,” Yoongi lies, heart lifeless next to his shoes. “Just unexpected.”

“Fuck, I know.” Jungkook rakes through light strands. “I had no idea she was back.” 

Maybe this is the sign he needed. The sign to finally stop playing pretend. 

Because who the fuck is he kidding? Being with you didn’t exist beyond his dreams.  

Besides, Jungkook’s a good kid when he needs to be. Responsible enough, clearly successful.

Lonely.

And above all else, it seems like he’s willing to drop everything if you give him another chance. 

What does he have? Not much. Just a history of getting around and a bruised as fuck heart.

You deserve someone better than him, and who more powerful to agree than the universe itself?

With eyes shutting in defeat, Yoongi realizes what Jungkook was eating earlier. Just the icing on the fucking cake.

She was right. 

Everyone will eventually leave him. 

And he’ll end up alone. 

Jungkook sighs again, giving his ear a tug before going silent.

“What.”

“Nothing. Just…” He smiles again. “She looks incredible.” 

Feeling his chest cave in, Yoongi responds with a hum.

“And I don’t even mean that in like, a shallow way, you know? She looks… I dunno. She looks like a million bucks.” 

Yoongi looks at the floor before he realizes that his lips form a sad smile, and he covers how he really feels by shaking his head and giving him shit. “A million bucks?” 

“Shut up,” Jungkook huffs, smiling like he just got caught staring at his crush. “I’m just shocked.” 

“I see that.” 

“Yeah… Guess I’ll try again on Friday.” 

“You going? Thought you had plans.” 

“Nope. Not anymore, if it means I get to see her.” 

“Mm.”

Jungkook slips a card into the vending machine before selecting two options. When they drop, he fishes them out, handing one to Yoongi.

“Keep it,” he mutters. “Not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten yet.”

“I will later.”

“Well, more for me. Let’s go back in there.”

After the longest day in years, Yoongi heads out, taking note of the sky that’s getting darker a lot quicker lately. 

On his way home, he wonders if you’re still coming. Knowing that it’s stupid to think about since you haven’t said anything otherwise. 

But the dumplings…

Shit, something that trivial shouldn’t be able to affect him so much. But it does. It affects how he’s been on autopilot ever since Jungkook uttered your name. It affects how he’s in a foggy mood on his way home, taking in the light clouds and thinking about how you’d probably say how pretty they are. 

It affects how he feels sick that he’s gonna end things.

But on the flip side, it’s almost making him feel relieved. 

Because one, you’d be in good hands. Jungkook looked ready to give it all up and, with his determination, Yoongi truly believes that. 

And two, which is the much worse point: how would things have worked between him and you?

Even if it happened, there’s no way it could actually grow into something. Especially with your brother not knowing shit up til now. To go from nothing to you saying you’re seeing one of his friends? 

He would beat the shit outta him.

And who could blame him? Certainly not Yoongi. Hell, if Yoongi himself found out you were seeing one of their friends, he’d show up at their door in an instant.

So what’s with all the hypocrisy? 

Yoongi rakes his hair back, looking out the window while the war inside of him dwindles, both sides realizing there’s no reason to fight anymore. 

In the end, it doesn’t matter. 

It doesn’t matter because—

Hustler: Incoming Call

Yoongi darts eyes to his phone before answering, focusing on the road and not on his tightening chest.

“Hey.” 

“Hi!”

He didn’t even know his shoulders were tense until he heard your voice. 

After a beat, he silently sighs. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing you over the phone. 

But how long will he get to do that? Which call will be his last?

“What’s up?”

“You at home?” 

“On the way. How’d it go?” 

“I’ll tell you when I get there.” 

Wait. You’re still coming over?

Why did his stomach flip its shit?

“Tease. I’ll make shit up then.” 

“Oh, yeah? I’m listening.” 

“I’ll tell you when you get there.” 

“I hate you.” 

Yoongi pauses before saying something, and he makes a decision on the fly, 

“I’ll keep that in mind when I’m cooking.” 

“Wait! You’re gonna make food?” 

If he’s gonna bow out, he’s gonna do all the shit he wants to do first. One last time before reality fully severs the string that shouldn’t have tethered to your heart.

“Yeah. Did you eat already?” 

“No! I just, umm. I’m bringing a surprise.” 

A surprise? “Bring it anyway.” 

“Okay. Are you sure you want me to come over?” 

More than anything. “Yes, doll. I wanna see you.” 

“Okay.” 

“See you soon.” 

“Yoongi?” 

Please say his name a lot tonight. “Hmm.” 

“I wanna see you, too.”

The interview went great. 

But it could’ve gone better if you weren’t so thrown off before it happened. 

“I just need to remember what it’s like to kiss you.” 

At the next red light, you hang your head on a steering wheel that has taken the brunt of many hand grips. A wheel that’s seen many tears and will not see more today.

Why the fuck did he have to be there? Of all places?

Yoongi did say the studio was downtown. But he didn’t specify where at. 

Whatever. Don’t let it trip you up. Do not. There’s still time to calm down before you start a night you desperately need. 

You’re glad you made arrangements with Yuri before you saw Jungkook. Because she would’ve suspected something was very wrong if you called her after that encounter. 

Now you gotta call your brother, knowing he’ll be less likely to pick up trouble in your voice. 

You roll forward when the light turns green. And your call is answered on the second ring. 

“Hey! How’d the interview go?”

“Oh, umm. It went really well, actually?”

“Nice. Is there another round?”

“Yeah, next week.”

“Uh huh…”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just. You sound pretty damn good about it already.” 

“Yeah, I kinda do, huh?” 

“I was gonna make fun of you but I’m too shocked.”

“Good! Make fun of me later; I’m still nervous as fuck.”

“Fine. What do you want for dinner? Seokjin’s back in town so we’re gonna hang at the house.”

“That’s also why I was calling. Don’t wait up tonight.”

“Huh?”

“I’m…” You thought you could do this without remorse, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t feel a bit bad. Especially after the conversation you had with him yesterday morning, head still spinning with Jimin’s run through of what went down at basketball. “I’ll be at Yuri’s.”

“Again? Damn, okay.”

“I know. If I stay over then I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

“K, keep me posted. Rohan! Don’t—”

You flinch from the sudden yell, cursing when he shouts something. Always a damn habit. “Okay, bye.”

“—the chips. Hey, are they coming on Friday?”

“I know Yuri’s going. I dunno about Jia.” 

“Alright. Well, lemme know.”

“Can’t you just ask h—”

“Bye!”

The line cuts, and you half-laugh, half-scoff at the road in front of you. 

You knew your brother had a thing for Yuri’s older sister—and frankly, you don’t blame him—but to see how flustered he always is when it comes to her? It’s too good to ever pass up. 

Idiot. 

Then you wonder.

If it was Yuri instead…

Something in you stirs, and it’s a creature you don’t think you like. 

Your wheel suffers another hard squeeze.

There’s a bowl of water next to his unwelcome mat. 

And you can’t help but smile at the contrast.

Huffing out a small laugh, you remember what it was like coming here that very first time. 

Wet. Cold. With virtually nowhere else to go and no backup plan. 

If you could go back in time to that version of you, would you tell them anything? Or would you simply watch as they stood at this door, hand raised to knock for so long that their elbow got tired at its bend? 

One thing’s for sure: their whole life would transform simply because they tried. They’d enter a phase of their life that they’re always going to remember, intertwining with a man they’re never gonna forget.

Something falls from your face, and you realize that it feels like rain. 

Shit, how long have you been standing here?

Shaking your head, you swipe unfallen tears before knocking, and you vaguely wish you still had a key so that you could’ve skipped all this nonsense. 

The door is opened seconds later, glasses and dark hair greeting your wide eyes.

Because there are many ways he can dress that have you stumbling over nothing. But when he’s at his most comfortable is when you really can’t handle things. You’re almost positive he’s wearing the specs just to mess with you. 

“Hi!” You give your best smile, trying to meet his gaze but failing in record time. “I brought you tangerines.” 

There’s something in his expression, like he can’t decide how to react. But you can’t blame him because you probably look a little too happy to just be presenting fruit. 

“It’s been a year.”

You know. 

But you don’t wanna think too hard about that. 

Brushing off the feeling in your stomach, you scoff, “And?”

Instead of letting you in, he leans against his doorframe while holding the knob with a smirk. “Feel like I should ask for interest.”

“Excuse you,” you huff. “This isn’t all I brought, you know.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You pout, lowering the bag and surveying the ground, wondering why he hasn’t let you in yet. “Where’s your cat?”

“It’s not mine.”

“You gave it a water bowl.”

“It looked thirsty.”

“Uh huh.” You melt at how the dish really is just one from his cupboards. “I’m just messing with you, you know. I think it’s sweet.”

Yoongi offers a look before pushing off the partition, letting you inside and closing the door. 

Something in you flutters, knowing you’re finally here and free to stay. You don’t know how it’s easier to breathe in his place rather than out in the world, but explanations aren’t needed—not when you’re just glad to be back. 

Shoes seem to scold you as they’re flung off your feet, and you happily pad to the dining table to dump your bags down with dull thumps.

Of course, there’s a possibility that Yoongi’ll be super opposed to the idea of you staying the night. But on the off-chance that he allows it, you want to show him how serious you are. 

Perhaps putting yourself on a limb can wait, though. Best not to do it this early, lest you get pushed off by feelings unrequited so soon. 

Damn it. Don’t be negative.

Instead, you go and crush him in a hug, nestling your head in his shirt and feeling immediately comforted by his cologne. 

Yoongi doesn’t say a word, though, arms slowly wrapping around your shoulders after a strange, questionable freeze. 

Huh. That was interesting.

“I missed you,” you confess into his clothes, and you feel his hold tighten just a bit. 

“It’s only been a few days, doll.”

“Hey,” you pout. “You’re supposed to say you missed me, too.” 

He exhales through his nose, and you melt into the warmth his body gives. “Missed you, too.”

You don’t wanna think something is wrong. 

But something seems off.

Of course, this could just be another byproduct of your worrying, so you blaze past it. No more of that, remember? He’s proven himself over and over that you don’t have to second guess.

Lifting your head, you move to kiss him on the cheek. “See? Wasn’t so hard, huh.”

You see him react, but he seems… Distracted? Holding back? 

Something is definitely up.

Pulling back, you attempt to uncover the truth, first scraping the surface where it’s safe, “Long day?” 

“Yeah.” 

While you half-expected that kind of answer, you don’t expect him to retreat, too. 

As you watch him walk back into his active kitchen, your hands hang like anchors, lowering you back down into a muddy sea. 

Cautious, you slowly make your way forward, pausing at the high counter that separates his cooking space from the living room. 

He’s just making food at the stove. 

So why do you still feel weird? 

This isn’t doing anything good to your mind. The whole day has been a whirlwind, and you were looking forward to finally having some peace and, quite frankly, a good ass time. 

Awkwardness buzzing along your limbs, you take one step, two steps, one step more, ending up right next to his side. 

Looking at the pot instead of anywhere else, you fear the answer but question anyway, 

“Yoongi… What’s wrong?” 

He keeps stirring, but the swirls gradually get slower and slower. 

“You know you can tell me, right?” 

He hums, hollow. “I know.”

“So…”

“It’s nothing, doll.”

He is lying. 

Yoongi—the one that always tells you to say what you mean and the one that swears he’ll tell you the truth—is lying. 

So this must be serious as fuck.

But you cannot just give up. No way. Not when you told him he could tell you anything, that you’d be there if he wanted to talk. Not after he did all that shit for you without asking for anything in return.

Something is bothering him and whatever you can do to help, you’ll do it. 

Keep trying. 

“Well. If you won’t tell me what’s wrong… Can you tell me what you’re thinking about?”

There’s a flash of something across his face. “Using those hustling skills, huh?”

“Business tactics,” you puff out. “And stubbornness. Both of those usually do the trick.” 

Yoongi softly breathes before stirring once. Twice. But nothing expels other than the drift of aromas, prompting a sinking suspicion that something is legitimately wrong with the one creating them.

You don’t like it in the slightest. 

Even though he said he wanted to see you, and even though he seemed amused when you came inside, you feel almost…

Something inside of you is picking up signals that you haven’t had since that very first day you came here. 

Signals that are telling you to leave. 

Damn. All the excitement that you were harboring the whole day seems suddenly ponderous, weighing your shoulders down before plummeting to kitchen tile. 

With a heart so heavy you think you’ll crumple forward if you aren’t careful, you whisper, 

“Hey.” 

Yoongi turns. 

“I can leave.”

Seconds pass. And seconds more.

When your offer isn’t taken nor refused, you lift your eyes to regard the one person holding your soul in his hands. 

And give him full reign to destroy it.

“Do you—” 

“Kook said he saw you today.” 

Air leaves your lungs, and you can feel your body tensing at every joint. 

“Oh.” You gulp, wondering why he sounds eerily closed off. “Yeah. I ran into him before my interview.” 

Yoongi faces the stove again, and you’re wondering if that was because of the food or the topic of conversation. 

“He says he misses you.” 

“Ah,” you sigh, assuming that it’s definitely the latter. “Seems so.” 

He’s not looking at you, and a thousand and three scenarios fly through your mind. 

What does he know? What does he assume? Fuck, he could be thinking so many different things if you don’t confess outright why Jungkook said that. 

You didn’t realize they were that close. They must be if Kook said that much to him. Yoongi asked if you remembered Jungkook, but did they also hang out back in the day? You don’t remember that happening too much while you were seeing him, but that could’ve happened. 

“I didn’t know you were a thing. My bad.” 

Planted on two feet, you feel like you’re falling.

Does he think… You and Jungkook, he doesn’t—Oh, fuck, you gotta tell him.

He doesn’t know.

What the hell did Jungkook say?

“Yoongi, I—” 

“He said he—”

“Told him I’m seeing someone.” 

He freezes.

A second passes.

He turns.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You think to reach for his hand, but opt for resting nervous fingers on his forearm. “That’s what I told him.” 

“I see,” he murmurs, and he watches your nails on his skin. 

Why is he being so distant? Something seems different than before, and you really don’t like how he sounds… 

Unsure.

Did you just make him uncomfortable? 

Fuck, that’s entirely possible. You knew he doesn’t do relationships anymore and yet you wedged him into this position without even telling him. What a dumbass. 

Why did you tell Jungkook you were seeing someone? Why did you have to let that slip? 

Is it because you didn’t wanna open any wounds from the past when things were going great?  

There’s a sea of silence. You feel like flotsam. Jetsam. Riding the rather calm waves before heading into less favorable waters. 

“Who’re you seeing,” Yoongi suddenly asks, shifting so that he’s facing you completely. His face gives nothing away as he regards you, but there’s a hint of something in his voice when he adds, “Someone I know?” 

Does he really need to ask? Why is he so fucking attractive even like this? 

He didn’t say no. He didn’t say no. Don’t assume anything and just follow his lead. 

Because holy fuck, he didn’t say no.

“Maybe,” you say, tracing your finger along his veins to focus on something other than his gaze. “Pretty sure.” 

“Mm.” 

“At least, you’d probably get along.” 

“Is that right?”

“Yeah.” You weakly flick him. “You’re both mean.” 

Yoongi puffs the smallest cloud of amusement, and you finally raise your gaze to see him still looking down. 

He didn’t say no. But he didn’t say yes, either. So keep going. 

Smile faltering, you trudge into the muddy part of the conversation. The part you really, truly hope you get out of in one piece. “There’s just one issue with him, though.” 

Yoongi immediately furrows his brows. “Just one?” 

“Well. The biggest issue right now.” 

He just slides his eyes up to regard you, silent and waiting for you to continue. 

Nerves vibrating, you swallow. 

“I dunno if he’s seeing me, too.” 

You sigh, slipping your hand from his sleeve. “It’s, umm. I know he may’ve kinda said it before, but. I dunno if that was hypothetical, or.” Don’t shake. Stop shaking. “Anyway. There’s a million reasons why he wouldn’t. Or shouldn’t. But…” 

Fuck. Your heart suddenly pangs. And you can’t bring yourself to look anywhere but your hand. Your voice shudders when it expels, and your throat gets smaller by twenty sizes. 

“I’d at least like to know.” 

Yoongi cradles your chin, bringing you close to his awaiting expression. 

“I could answer for him.” 

He runs his gaze along your features, and you know he’s stalling on purpose. 

Tension envelops you as you wait, but you don’t want to tempt an answer in fear of shattering into a million pieces. 

What is he gonna say? Is this really about to happen? You thought you were sure, but now faced with the final answer, doubt is climbing up your throat and grappling onto your brain. For all you know, the answer could be— 

“But you should probably ask him straight up.” 

Goddamn it. 

“Wait a minute!” 

He laughs while going back to stirring the pan. “Try him after dinner.” 

“What.” 

All he does is hiss in laughter, the space around you expanding beyond the box you encased yourself in. 

Oh, you hate him. Where are your boxing gloves? 

Maybe you should pretend to leave again just to see if you can tug the answer out of him. 

When your pout reaches a handful of seconds, you spare a slow glance at your past and current and future annoyance.

And your heart crumbles at his expression. 

You’ve never seen him look like that.

You blink and turn away before he can see your staring, and you feel strange and guilty all over when you make your way to his table.

Slowly gripping the top of a chair, you exhale again. 

He didn’t say no.

But he also didn’t say yes.

You take a much needed breath before going into the kitchen, need for distraction coming out in the form of a question. “You need help?”

“Nah, I got it. Almost done.”

“K.” Going for the cabinets, you pick the one that houses his humble supply of dishes. 

A few plates and bowls rest next to each other, and you wonder if he ever had more before. 

Then you set the table before he brings the food, and you sigh in relief. “I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Why not?”

Did he see the dumplings you gave away? You were gonna eat those, but when you saw Jungkook… 

He looked so depleted. Running on past empty. You offered without thinking about it.

Hopefully Yoongi didn’t see that. You were gonna share them with him instead.

“Too nervous.”

“Mm. No talking until you eat then.”

You scoff. “Yes, sir.”

He only hums while putting stuff on his plate. 

After you take some bites—marvelling at how good the food is—you fall silent. The meal goes like that for a little bit, too. And it’s only until you’re pretty satisfied that you stop. 

“I can’t lose to you,” you blurt, repeating what he said to you after you made him food for work. “But I kinda don’t mind if this is how you beat me.”

He smiles—a small one, but it’s there—before finishing his bite. 

After that, you tell him how everything went down. 

The conversation is more one-sided than usual, but he listens intently, huffing when you tell how you made your interviewer sweat, and encouraging you when you mention the panel interview coming up.

Even though he’s attentive, you still can’t shake the feeling of awkwardness. Like he’s just counting down the minutes until you leave.

And that catapults you back into a state of worry that you worked so hard to get out of.

Before long, the food dwindles down to scraps. Both of you have stopped eating, with you moving your leftover bits around and Yoongi leaning back in his chair.

Suddenly, words are the hardest thing to come by.

The whole time, Yoongi hadn’t said a word about your earlier admittance. Only focusing on your day, he successfully directed the entire conversation away from himself. 

Why? 

You wanna know about his stuff, too. 

“So… How was your day?”

He looks at you for a moment before staring out the window. “It was okay.”

You slowly gnaw your lip.

Well, if that didn’t work, what will? 

Remembering what you spoke about before, tucked away in your bed after a night you wanna forget yet always remember, you ask something more specific.

“Did you ever get those calls? For the album to be finalized?”

Your stomach drops when he just flexes his jaw, shifting in his seat before staring at his plate. 

“Yeah, we did.” 

Ah. 

Grasping. You’re grasping at something that’s fading. 

This is your fault, you suppose. It’s one thing to tell Jungkook you were seeing someone. Because you didn’t say who it was, and to him it could be anyone. 

But to tell Yoongi what you said, knowing damn well you know he knows who you mean?

You basically admitted everything under the Sun. 

Without even knowing if your feelings would reflect off the Moon.

Fuck, you feel guilty. Embarrassed. Why the hell did you spring this onto him without even asking? That’s gotta feel strange, if not awkward as hell.

You said it yourself: there’s a million reasons why he shouldn’t. Reasons you should’ve considered. Like if he figured you were temporary, or what the fuck would happen if your brother found out.

And as much as you feel for Yoongi, you should’ve kept your brother in mind. This is someone he’s known for years. Someone he considers family. A man he trusts. 

A person he loves.

If they stop talking because of you, a day wouldn’t go by without you feeling like absolute shit.

Fuck.

You think back to what you thought in the car, wondering what you would do if your brother ever saw one of your friends without you knowing.

Just the thought—a thought you didn’t think you’d ever have to consider—makes your stomach roll and keel over. It’d be so weird. You would feel so… betrayed. 

Maybe this is why Yoongi didn’t answer you right away. To give you time to sit and think about what you’re doing, just like he did last time with the stupid fruit that you just paid up. 

The irony is not lost on you in the slightest.

You stew in the discomfort you created, staring at the table before your gaze wanders to the bag you brought. 

Hands on autopilot, you reach inside and take something out. Something small that has come to mean so much to you. 

Realizing that the last conversation you’ll have here mirrors the very first.

“I’ve practiced a lot since then,” you admit, more to the tangerine instead of anything else. “I was so bad at it before.” 

You break the skin with your nail, slowly peeling it enough to get a good amount in your fingers. “But I’m much better now. A year later.” 

As you unravel, it doesn’t take you long to have it all off in one piece, and you gently set it on the table before placing the naked slices on top. 

A rueful laugh escapes your throat, and you don’t look away from the vibrant, colorful swirl. “Crying over tangerines.” You feel a burn in your throat. “Who does that.” 

“Doll.”

“That guy… I don’t think I have to ask him anymore.” You look up, and your heart clenches when you see he’s already staring. “I dunno what I was thinking.”

What’s that you said about tripping before the finish line? 

Air hurts on the way out. “How stupid,” you whisper to your plate, hoping it was the only one that heard you. 

Yoongi doesn’t say a word.

It’s okay. Your steering wheel can witness all your tears on the way home. Or maybe not home. Wherever you decide to go. Tae’s? Reia’s? Dom’s? Yuri’s like you said you would? Any. Any of them really.

“Thank you for the food,” you rasp out. Bolder yet still on the verge of collapse, you vacate your chair. “Looks like you win.”  

Usually, people rush away during these goodbyes. You see them flee in a whirlwind in order to not get caught, to not be pulled back. Which makes for great theatre. Great openings for closure. It even happened to you that very first night. 

But that won’t happen now. 

Because if he hasn’t stopped you already? He’s already made his choice. You can walk as slow as possible and he will let it happen. 

Not like anyone’s counting, but ten and a half steps later, your feet appear next to your shoes. 

And for once in your life, you absolutely hate that you’re right.

Because there isn’t someone pushing you up against a door this time. No one asking you to give them a good luck kiss. 

No one telling you to stay. 

You know things were good while they lasted. You wanna tell yourself to cherish everything that happened the way they did. 

But all you can do is mourn all the shit that won’t happen anymore. Like stealing moments like tonight. Or finally sleeping well. Or making memories in kitchens…

You don’t wanna go.

Spinning, you head right back to the table, legs moving as slow as you run in your dreams.

You don’t acknowledge how Yoongi’s still sitting. You don’t think about how he’s still staring. You don’t pay attention to your heart bearing down your chest like a weight. 

“You know what, I can help clean before heading out.” 

“I got it.” 

“No,” you plead, swallowing hard to hold back the sting of his rejection. Shaking, you hastily gather your dishes before he can say anything else. “I can do it.” 

Your name leaves him in a quiet whisper, but you ignore it as you rush into the kitchen. There’s a few clinks as you set your stuff next to the sink before going back to the table.

Where Yoongi hasn’t moved at all.

You don’t get his stuff, but rather the serving dishes next, using both hands and fighting back tears because he says your name again. 

You don’t wanna go. 

Because if you leave? 

You know you’re not coming back. 

The serving dishes are set next to yours, and you turn the faucet on instead of going back to the table. You’d rather do anything else besides that right now. 

Grabbing the cleaning materials Yoongi has—trying not to believe you’ll miss even his sense of organization—you start scrubbing. Washing. Doing your damned best to wipe every piece of porcelain and cutlery clean. 

But it’s getting real fucking hard to tell how good of a job you’re doing with your vision this blurry. 

Guess you’ll have to stay here and scrub forever. And ever. What a shame, really.

The water cuts. 

A hand closes over yours. 

“Stop.”

You clench your teeth, eyes aflame at the rims when you whisper, “I’m not done.”

“Babe.”

How dare he. 

A small sound escapes your lips, and you finally let up.

Holy shit, how hard were you clenching your cleaning wrist? It’s almost too painful to unravel. 

But when you do, everything is slowly taken from your fingers, the sink filling with stray drops from both the faucet and your ducts.

“Look at me.”

You shake your head, knowing that you aren’t gonna last if you do as he says. 

“Please.”

No. 

“Oh, wait,” you whisper, the words pushing through teeth. “Almost forgot.” 

You tear away from him, retrieving what you peeled in one piece. Swiping it from the table, you’re a flurry as you head back into the kitchen. 

Right for the trash before it happens all at once. 

Your wrist is clutched before you struggle, eyes leaking as you fight to get your limb back. When you move your body forward, it’s held before being spun around, backed up against a fridge with a hard clank.

And the last defense you have around your heart shatters.

“Coward!” 

Lungs on fire, you pant harsh air in the space between, needing to gain control before you sear an entire bridge. But confusion and hurt twists your thoughts into anger, so you lift welling eyes and scream in silence for him to counter you.

Of course.

Of course he’s staring at the ground. Hiding anything and everything from you as if you never told him that he shouldn’t. 

“Look, I know I read this all wrong. You don’t want me like that. I get it.” You heave. “But goddamn, if you want me gone, just tell me—” 

Fingers tighten around your wrist. “It’s not like that.” 

“Yes, it is.” 

“It’s not—”

“Yes, it is, Yoongi!” Tears rush out of your eyes, and you can’t decide if they’re from pain or frustration or everything in the red spectrum. “Why am I here? Why did you even tell me to come? Ever since I got here you’ve been wanting me to get the fuck out.” 

Fucking hell.

He’s not even gonna answer. 

He hasn’t even looked up from the fucking floor.

“I get it,” you whoosh out, straining your arm and still not escaping his grip. “I should’ve known better.” Another heavy exhale. “Me seeing you of all people. What a joke—”

“He still loves you.” 

“What?”

Time stops.

Just for a moment.

And Yoongi sighs. “That’s what he told me.”

…Oh.

As he finally releases his hold, your arms float down to your sides, and all the thunder in your mind fades away.

Jungkook said that?

No. Impossible. You were the one in love with him not the other way around what the fuck? 

He’s the one that broke your heart.

But your mind quells because everything makes sense now. Why Yoongi’s been so distant. Why he’s been so quiet. Why he didn’t stop you almost leaving with an unbeating heart. 

And why wouldn’t he? Jungkook probably talked about that damn ring he has on his chain—the same one you still have in your bottom drawer. 

You do admit that it was a surprise to see, but all of that’s over. He made his choice a long time ago. 

“So if you need to end this, I get it.”

Yoongi.

This old, silly man.

A man that really needs to follow his own damn advice.

“About that.” Clutching the fruit still in your hand, you swallow. “He broke up with me out of nowhere. Right before I left.” 

You stare at his hoodie, fighting off the memories that are threatening to spill into newer and better ones. “So yeah. Dunno why he would say that.” 

There’s a moment of silence before he pockets his hands. “I’m sorry, doll.” 

“It’s okay. Got into some pretty shit relationships after him, but. I’m still here.” You try to catch his eyes, but he’s still not looking anywhere near your face. “And all this led me to you.” 

While you’d much rather do this in his bed, you don’t think you’ll be able to handle that. Because you know your heart will refuse to leave. And you’ll have no choice but to leave it behind.

You press fingers into his chest, and he lets you bunch his hoodie. It isn’t until you nick his vein that he growls your name in a warning, but you keep going as you palm his length. 

Strange. Yoongi can’t hold back his groan, but it’s strained. And his hands haven’t moved.

Ignore it. 

You grip him while tugging his chest closer, but though he groans, he doesn’t do anything else.

This what he wants, right? Clearly you weren’t invited over for food. Or conversation. Or to fucking confess that you saw yourself having some semblance of a relationship with him. 

“It doesn’t need to mean much. Seeing someone,” you surrender, shoving all your uncalled for feelings to the side. Feelings that you’ll pluck from yourself one at a time. “It can just be this.”

Because unlike the fruit in your hand that will haunt you, they can’t all come off in one piece. 

You let it fall to the floor. 

And shaky fingers slip under your shirt. 

“Doll, stop.”

…What?

Stop?

Wait.

The burns around your eyes flare while you freeze, wanting to fling yourself out of his apartment and right off the goddamn grid.

Yoongi sighs, closing his eyes before regarding you again. 

“This isn’t what I want.” 

…Oh.

So he’s done done. Jungkook’s admittance snapped him into making a decision and your alarming confession sealed the deal, huh?

You feel so fucking embarrassed and all you want to do is hide.

When you reply, you think you say words, but it’s all syllables doused in defeat, as jilted and jittery as your movements, “Oh. Fuck. Shit I’m so sorry I’ll just—”

“I want all of it.”

“...What?”

Time halts.

The world stops.

What does he mean?

What does he mean?

You look at his eyes, afraid to say anything that will destroy this moment, or make him take back what he just admitted.

He looks down, looking defeated as you’ve ever seen him. When he lifts his head again, he finally explains, 

“This isn’t… This isn’t just about sex.” He looks at your eyes. “I don’t want you thinking that’s all I want from you.” 

Your breathing is shallow, and fast. 

What is happening?

“But I feel like that’s all I can give,” he continues, and you snap your jaw shut. “All that other shit you should have?” 

Your heart squeezes when he looks away. “The way things are, there’s only so much I can do.” He looks down, and you wonder if he’s looking at the uneaten fruit next to your feet. “You don’t need to be seeing a guy like that.”

“Yoongi.”

“Besides.” His little huff of laughter stings. “I’m fucked up, doll. You deserve a lot better than me, anyway.”

Whoa, what the fuck?

“Baby. Stop.” 

Determined, you reach out to cradle his head in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Okay, what is going on? Where is all this coming from?”

He keeps breathing. But he says nothing. 

Something in you switches immediately. Because this isn’t about you anymore; something is up with Yoongi. 

Instincts kicking in, you bring his forehead into the crook of your shoulder. “Fuck, I’m—I don’t think any of that is true. I just figured…”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s—It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“I don’t need all the other shit,” you whisper before resting your cheek against his head. “I’ll take what I can get with you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Why?”

Yoongi leans away. “Because I’ve settled before. You’ve settled before.” He stares. “This would be the same thing.”

No. No, it wouldn’t. It wouldn’t.

Why is he assuming all this?

“But… I”—you choke, feeling so conflicted it hurts—“That’s not true.” 

And Yoongi’s brows tick up. 

“I’ve been settling because I didn’t know what I wanted. What I was supposed to want. But you…” There’s so many things you want to say, all of them rushing up and rendering your throat useless. “You changed that.”

When he doesn’t respond, you confess,

“And I’ve never wanted something more in my life.”

He looks at the ground. “Even if it’s not enough?” 

“What?” Why the hell is he running? Don’t let him back away so easily. Not when he’s finally opening up. “You’re more than enough.” 

His curve is full of regret. “I’m not, especially not now. I keep fucking everything up.” With a shake of his head, he glares at his dining table. “That dude at Dalo? What happened to you? That’s on me.” 

“Huh?”

“After you left that day…” 

He sighs, and the sound alone plunges your lips into a frown. “After you left, that guy said some shit about you and I”—his head turns—“I just reacted. And it all lead to that.” 

“Yoongi.”

He stops.

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“No, I mean… He told me everything.”

He doesn’t move to look your way completely, but his eyes do slant down to your legs, as if he wants to be corrected but fears it won’t help.

It will. 

“The morning after you told me, I asked him about it, too.”

“What’d he say.” 

“He told me you got into it with some dude, but he’s the one that swung. He even apologized, because he knew things were his fault, if anything.” 

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, but he still doesn’t meet your gaze. So you push forward. “No one blames you. And honestly? I would’ve done the same shit if someone said anything about you.”

Finally.

Finally, you get his eyes.  

“You wanna know why?”

He stays silent, and you touch his chin, sacrificing your shyness because he needs to know what you truly feel. 

“Cus no one’s gonna talk shit about someone I care about,” you vow, a declaration you would repeat to the world if it meant driving the point home. “Only I can do that.”

Yoongi’s curve is subtle, yet sadly restrained. “Who’s this I’m talking to?”

Your smile tries to make up for his. “Whatever you think I feel, or whatever you think is going on… I’m gonna tell you the truth if you’re wrong.” 

“I’m just not good for you, doll. I can’t give you everything you deserve.”

“Yoongi,” you halt him, looking from one eye to the other. “It’s not about what I deserve right now. It’s about what I want. Right?”

He doesn’t say anything, so you press your forehead to hide, eyes already welling. “Can I say it?”

For a beat and two more, he doesn’t move. You don’t even know if he breathes. 

But eventually, he offers a nod to continue, and the words almost catch in your throat on the way out, 

“I wanna be happy.” 

Something moves in his hoodie.

“And I want you to be happy, too.”

It’s strange, really. What you truly mean by that. 

Because even if this ends—when it inevitably ends—you still want… You still want…

Fuck.

You feel your hope dwindling. Fading fast with each second that he doesn’t speak. “But that’s just what I want,” you continue, unprepared for a second plan and packing up your proverbial baggage. “I know it’s not that easy.” 

Take a trip. Leave. Go anywhere but here. “I get it if this is too much, if—if we have to…” Fuck, get it together. “Even if we stop whatever this is, I still want—” 

“What about it?”

“Huh?”

There’s a pause before he speaks, voice on the brink of defeat,

“If I end it. Right now.”

A vice grips your heart. 

“What then?”

“I…” 

Your voice cracks as your stars burn out. Your universe collapses in on itself, plunging into your throat and choking you in an instant.

It’s a good ass question. Because you currently can’t even form a single breath of an answer.

But you knew it could come to that, right? You knew this could only be temporary at best. He’s just presenting it in the rawest form and you do not wanna swallow it.

No. 

Shove all your anxiety to the side. 

The you from a year ago was brave enough to come here in the first place. You’ll be damned if the you a year from today wonders what could’ve happened if you stayed. 

If he still rejects you after this, you’ll just have to deal with the feelings that grew. Feelings that you’ll pluck from yourself one at a time.

Because unlike the fruit that will come to haunt you, they can’t all come off in one piece. 

Just try.

“Then I’d ask to be your friend.”

His eyes open.

“Because I still wanna be there for you,” you choke out. “Even after you decide you’re done with me.”

So much for plucking everything you feel one by one.

You said everything you shouldn’t have and more, unraveling your shell and baring your intentions on the table—knowing they can end up in a bin.  

Because if you were more truthful with yourself, what you feel for Yoongi isn’t finite. There’s no shell, no number of pieces. No set definition.

What you feel for Yoongi is endless. An ocean. Deep, and blue, and vast, and terrifying.

And you’ll be okay. No matter what happens now, you’ll brave those waters. 

At least you knocked the first time.  

At least he—

“Fucking hell, doll.”

Hard lips cut off any other syllable you were gonna utter, smushing them into the back of your throat as you’re pinned flush against steel. 

Something solid pushes into your nose before he stops, tearing his glasses off to kiss you straight into another plane of existence. 

The clunk of them on a counter syncs with a strained sob, and your arms fling around his neck to hold for dear life. 

You’re dragged to the side, positions switched before Yoongi bangs into the countertop behind him, both of you clinking teeth from how hard you connect again, and again, and again. Something tumbles and rattles as he throws a hand back to brace himself, his other fingers clutching the back of your head as you breathe him in.

More. This isn’t enough. Not for you. Not for him.

Suddenly, you tug him across the space, beautifully crushed between his body and a sink that bruises your back, held so tight that his arms are squeezing emotions out of your eyes. 

And you let the rivers run. Run and run and spill onto your clothes that you don’t feel are on you at all. 

You kiss him as if it’s your last. You kiss him as if this is the first of many. You kiss him until your lungs burn and your lips bruise and you only have capacity for him. 

While you keep gasping his name, Yoongi’s not saying anything. 

But, in his own way, he’s telling you everything. 

As you pull him in impossibly close, a thought pierces through you like lightning. That maybe—just maybe—he speaks through actions, because his mind already says too much.

If that’s the case, you understand. And you now make it your mission to listen to it, too. 

When you can’t feel your lips anymore, that’s when you both break away, chests heaving in tandem and tension draining onto kitchen tile that almost saw the last of you.

Only the sounds of your breaths can be heard—an exhale, an inhale, a swallow, a sigh. 

He didn’t answer. You know that. But at least he’s not kicking you out for now, and you will take every second he allows. 

Trembling, you slide a hand up his face, pressing your forehead against his once again. Eyes shut. Heart open. Hoping his will eventually be the same. 

“Hi,” you whisper through your rain. “I brought you tangerines.” 

And you smile in pure relief when he gets the point. 

He gently straightens, mouth rubbed raw and brushing against your forehead before your hand is held, and your sniffles are led out of the kitchen. Past your favorite table. 

And into his room. 

He guides you to sit on the bed before giving you another kiss, and you expect this to lead to what it usually does. 

But he doesn’t do what you think. Always keeping you on your toes while simultaneously knocking you off of them every time.

He’s sitting in his chair. He’s unlocking his—

Hold on.

Wait a second.

“Yoongi?” 

He doesn’t say anything, still clicking around until he brings up a file, then exiting out before clicking another one.

And he plays it before standing, your eyes watching his nervous pacing and noticing his hands stuffed in his hoodie. But your attention is snagged before you make something of it, because you can’t believe what’s filling the room.

It’s the song from before. 

And it’s… he sounds…

Like a natural.

You can’t seem to take your eyes off the screen, watching as lines of colorful boxes keep scrolling by, drinking in his voice layered above a stunning instrumental. 

It’s got everything. Rapping, singing, a great assortment of instruments in the background to help move the song along. 

Did he do all of this? How long did this take? 

Does he know it’s giving you chills?

It reminds you of good times, it reminds you of him. With each passing second, you feel like you know him more, like you’re meeting the real Yoongi through a musical medium.  

You’re so overwhelmed that you don’t even know how you’re physically reacting.

“That bad?”

“What?”

“You’re crying.”

Fuck. “Oh, I’m—” You hastily swipe away your tears, embarrassed to hell that even your cheeks are wet. “Fuck, I didn’t even notice.”

You keep staring at the screen. Because you still can’t believe that you’re sitting in the same room as someone with this much talent and potential. 

Finally, you turn to him, hating how he looks as if anything you say will break him. 

Why the fuck does he look so nervous? He has absolutely no reason to be. You’re so shocked that you aren’t even aware of what you say.

“Your dick is big and I wanna suck it.” 

Immediately, Yoongi shuts his eyes tight in a loud laugh, his head throwing back while you cover your face from downright embarrassment. 

Dear god.

Of all the things…

That’s what you go with?

Where did that even come from!

You can’t even face him when he regards you again, instead saving yourself by going with a more appropriate compliment,

“No, but really. You’re so fucking cool.”

Yoongi folds his arms before shaking his head, curved eyes finding the ground as he tries to hide his amusement. “It needs a lot of cleaning. This is just the draft, but… Yeah.” 

“Yoongi.” There’s so much you want to say. So many things that you can’t even begin to articulate. Getting up, you walk over to the man you don’t think you’ll ever fathom, no matter how many seconds, days, years you get with him. “This sounds incredible. I didn’t even know you sang.” 

He laughs to himself. “I can’t. I’ll need to get someone to do those parts.”

“False.” Sparing a glance at the software, you offer, “You want real advice?”

His answer carries surprise and intrigue. “You got any?”

“Yeah. Just sound more confident.” The irony of the situation isn’t lost on you, so you already suspect the look you receive. “Yeah, yeah, me telling you that, but. That’s all I can think of. The rest sounds damn good.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes. And I know you think so, too.” You huff as you give him a shoulder nudge. “You wouldn’t have shown me otherwise.” 

“Mm.” Yoongi looks proud, but you can’t tell if it’s because of what you said or because of what he showed you. Probably both. He should be proud regardless. 

“I’m so serious,” you say, walking back to his chair. Before you take it, you turn and blurt, “Can I play it again?”

His eyes crease immediately as he asks in disbelief, “Again?” 

“Yeah!” You plop into his chair, rolling up and excitedly controlling his mouse. “I wanna do it. Just tell me what to do so I don’t fuck anything up.”

There’s a laugh behind you—one of the soft ones that have become your favorites—before a warm, big presence joins your side. When Yoongi leans forward a bit, you can feel his body heat as he points on the screen where to press.

“Hit this one first.”

“K.” You do, and it shows the beginning of the track instead of the end. 

When he instructs you again, his closeness does wonders to your brain. “Then Spacebar.”

“Spacebar,” you whisper as you hit it, and you’re immediately greeted by the beginning notes again. 

It really is mesmerizing. The beat slowly building with horns, the record scratches, the little adlibs he throws in—all of it has you bobbing your head and getting so into it that you don’t even realize a few things. 

Like one, you’re sitting in a chair that he’s probably had for years. Two, you’re getting to listen to something that he’s kept under wraps for what feels like centuries. And three, the fact that he’s still very much there. 

Remembering the last one, a small curse flies out of your mouth before you stop and swing your head. “My bad, I was—”

And you only feel the softest press of lips on your own. 

Time bends when you’re pulled into the most tender kiss he’s ever given, and everything around you melts away. The song fades to background noise, but it’s still wonderful, hearing his distinct voice on recording while feeling his lips in person. 

Your body swivels the chair to face him fully, and he hums into your mouth before tilting you up for a fuller kiss. 

When you’re slowly pulled out of his chair, you’re guided once again to his bed, the two of you falling into sheets you missed for days. 

Nothing matters right now. Not the way you said everything, not the way he hasn’t outright said anything in return. None of that truly matters at the moment because, right now, you feel like you’ve been given an answer to something.

Yoongi finally stops to hover above you, eyes roaming over your face. “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you,” you whisper. “For showing me.”

He continues to trace your face with his gaze, as if he’s looking for answers to questions he hasn’t asked yet. 

“I’m serious, you know,” you comment, hand coming up to hold his arm. “This isn’t just me saying it to say it.”

When he waits, you say your next sentence with the most confidence you’ve ever conjured, knowing that you’re gonna stick with this sentiment forever,

“The whole world needs to hear that.” 

And Yoongi seizes your lips in what you think is another thank you. 

His fingers find your hand, planting it near your face and causing your thighs to rub. Sighing, you deepen the kiss, shyly lapping at his entrance to let you in. 

When he groans, you lick inside, loving the way he breathes from his nose and positions himself above you. 

The last time this happened, you were overflowing with emotions, and they all come flooding back as you remember what all transpired in your bed. 

You admitted a lot of things that night. Big, scary, wonderful things. 

But you won’t say them tonight. Partly because you don’t want to overshadow his vulnerability, and partly because there’s still a slice of you that needs a little more assurance.

“Mm.” You break the third kiss he gives—or ninth, you aren’t truly counting—with a hand to his warm chest. “As much as I want you right now, we don’t have to.” 

“Huh?”

His look of utter confusion is adorable. “You said it’s not all about… you know. I’m saying I’m good with that, too.”

“You sure? We can before you need to head out.“

Wait. That’s right. 

He doesn’t know what you planned. 

“Oh… that’s another surprise.”

“Huh?”

There’s a specific feeling people get when they’re about to reveal something big. Anticipation mixed with glee, nerves mingling with the joy of reaction. 

And you feel all of that in your belly when you tell him you’re staying.

To which he responds with a smirk while looking adorably puzzled. “Don’t lie.”

“I mean it! If you’ll let me.”

“What about—”

“I said I was at Yuri’s. She knows.” Reaching up, you play with one of the strings of his sweater, focusing on the strand because you cannot admit the next part to his face. 

“I just wanted to sleep here. Even if just for tonight.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you slide your eyes upward, wondering if you’re being too needy or clingy. “Is that okay?”

Yoongi simply holds your nervous digits in his, bringing them up to his lips before softly kissing their ridges—once, twice, the third longer than the others. 

“Stay.” 

Then he leans down to capture your lips instead. And if you’re being needy and clingy, maybe he is, too, and you figure that it’s okay to be that way for now.

“Hold on.”

“Hmm?”

“If you’re staying”—yet another peck—“Lemme get my phone.”

“K.”

He grips your hand a bit tighter before letting go. When he vacates the bed, you inhale his scent from his sheets, feeling so refreshed it’s unbelievable. Legs slide along the cool material, and your head finds a comfy nook in his pillows. Feeling content. Safe. At home. 

Behind you, the mattress dips.

“Come here.” 

You hold back a smile before you turn, letting Yoongi bring you against his solid chest. When you angle your head to look at his phone—

“Oh, my god!”

No, he is not! 

Yoongi clicks on a video, enlarging it to show none other than Holly walking around a room. 

Your squeals aren’t held back as you bend your knees in glee. “So big!”

“He’s so heavy.” 

He then scrolls to another video of the little one in bed, messing with the covers and flopping around. To this, you don’t even know what to say, a hand coming up to cover your wide grin.

“I wanna snuggle, oh god.”

Yoongi’s voice reverberates under your cheek as he easily surrenders, “He’d probably prefer you over me anyway.” 

“Umm, yeah,” you huff. “He’s got good taste.”

Yoongi laughs before showing you more pictures, and with each passing second, peace covers you like a blanket. Just lying down while he lets you into his life makes you happy, and you wonder if he’s doing this just to show you, or to lift any low spirits from before. 

The latter wouldn’t surprise you. 

After all, there’s no doubt he’s always looking out for you. No matter what. No matter how.

Sure, maybe this is temporary. Once the ride gets to be too much for him, you can step off. 

Like Taehyung said: he doesn’t do relationships now, and you don’t wanna force him into something he doesn’t do anymore. If he doesn’t want more, it’s okay.

Lifting your head, you whisper in quiet acceptance, “Thank you.” 

“Hmm?”

“For uhm…” Your sudden interest in his nightstand isn’t surprising. Looks like that’s where he keeps an extra chain or two. “Not being done with me yet.”

“Babe.”

“I know it has to happen at some point. I’ve got him to think about, and. I don’t wanna get between y’all.” You timidly place an arm around his stomach, loving how he feels so pliant, yet so strong. “Besides. I’m probably keeping you from other people, too—if you aren’t sleeping with anyone else now.” 

Ouch. 

That one kinda shaved a year off your life.

“But…” Sighing, you hold him a smidge tighter, bracing yourself before admitting what you’ve been saying all along. “I really like you, Yoongi. And I’m gonna love every second you give me.” 

You let out a sad chuckle before looking back at his phone. “God, he’s so cute I wanna see him so bad. Oh, wait! When are you going back? Call me so I can see him for real…” 

Your voice tapers off as you watch his movements.

Why is he putting his phone down? 

Why is he quiet? 

Oh. 

He wants to kiss you again. 

Your eyes slip shut as he presses you into soft sheets, hand easing behind your head to add depth to the contact that makes your toes curl. 

When he buries his head in your neck, he breathes you in.

“Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know I haven’t said my piece.”

There’s nothing else uttered. Followed by more of the same.

Which means he’s stalling. 

Which means this won’t be what you wanna hear. You already feel your soul break piece by agonizing piece, chipped away by each second of silence you don’t breathe. 

Although sometimes. A pause precedes an unforgettable moment. 

And this moment will be one you’ll always remember, long after every fragment of you is given back to the stars.

“But I’m really fucking into you, doll.” 

Oh.

“I have been for a long time.”

Oh.

Your breath halts, and you’re pretty sure your heart fails and thinks the only way to go is through your eyes.

“You’re just off-limits, so. I knew I couldn’t push it.” He laughs to himself, faint and full of unspoken words. “I say that, but. I almost didn’t give a shit in your kitchen that d…” 

Your vision swims, and Yoongi must have felt your tears on his cheek because he stops to check on you. “What’s wrong?” 

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It feels right, if anything, and that’s what is starting to frighten you. Voice almost indiscernible, you can’t help but ask what he means.

His stare is long. “You don’t get it, do you?” 

“Get what.” 

“What you do to me.” 

He’s wavering in the blur of your gaze. “What do I do?” 

“That’s what I don’t get. You don’t need to do anything, I just… You make things make sense.” 

“Oh.” 

“And you…” He sighs. “You make me feel safe.” 

What? 

That’s not what you expected. At all. 

Brows furrowed, you blink, big drops of tears falling from their perch. “Me? I feel like this should be the other way around.” 

“I don’t, umm. I don’t mean it like that.” 

“Huh?” 

He doesn’t respond, long enough for a weighty silence to slowly pour into the pocket he made. 

But you’ll wait. You’ll wait, and understand, even when he drops his head back into the crook of your shoulder. Even when his silence turns your head. 

Even when his words pierce your chest.

“I meant from myself.” 

His name cracks out of your mouth, and fingers waste no time in holding him close. The deepest instincts you’ve ever had kick in, and suddenly every synonym of protectiveness exists in your hands.

That… 

That took a lot to say. 

Holy fuck, what else has he been screaming without a word? 

He said he caused everything that happened to you. He was so attentive after Dalo. He kept trying everything to push you away in his kitchen. How the hell did you not see it before?

Your throat depletes in size. What has he been going through this whole time? What other destruction has he been inflicting on himself? Where is this darkness stemming from? 

He had a past, but he’s so different now. He has to see that, right? Right?

You had no fucking clue. This whole time, he had been perfect. 

And you didn’t have a single clue. 

The ocean rolls out of your ducts in waves. An apology forces through sorrow, tangled, tangled as it comes, “I was an ass earlier, I’m—I’m sorry.”

“How.”

“I called you a coward. I was so mean, I—”

“Called me the fuck out,” Yoongi corrects, his voice a beautiful rockslide on your skin. “Nothing bad about that.” 

“But I could’ve gone about it a better way.” Don’t sniffle so loud in his ear, goddamn it. “I’m really sorry.”

His arm dips into your stomach a tad. “This is why you’re too good for me, doll. I’m just fine being an ass all the time.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, I can make a bitch cry,” you point out through another sniff, feeling his huff in your neck. “But only if they really deserve it. And you don’t.” 

After his hum, he flatly counters, 

“Depends on who you ask.” 

And you still before expelling a soft laugh, relieved that he’s okay enough to offer jokes. Reaching up, you run a hand over his head, smoothing his locks and pressing his heart tight against yours. 

“Ask me,” you whisper. “What I want.” 

He inhales, slow, before obliging.

While you’re no stranger to overthinking, you know when you’re being unreasonable. And though you have been thinking badly about yourself ever since university, this man taught you to quit that shit. 

The same man that’s doing a thousand times worse than you are. 

So you’re gonna help him. And you’ll start by finally listening to what he’s been trying to drill into your mind. By saying everything you’ve wanted but never had the guts to say, clutching him like he’ll disappear if you let go.

“You.” A tear rolls. “All of you.” 

You know he felt it fall, and you swallow before continuing. “I wanna call you every morning. I want you to be the last one I hear before I fall asleep.” 

His hold on you gets tighter, and you feel the warmth of something sliding down your neck. Your tears are plenty tonight, it seems.

“I wanna give all the good luck kisses you want. I wanna… Fuck, I wanna cook with you, talk about what’s bothering you, I…” 

You hold him tight. Because your last confession is the one that requires the most courage, carrying the weight of a thousand sentences in a mere seven words.

“I wanna watch fireworks with you again.”

And you think he’ll hide, because you think that you would do the same. 

But he doesn’t. 

As soon as you loosen your hold, he pushes upward, and you realize with a visceral burn that those tears you felt weren’t yours.

Raw at their edges, just as welled, his eyes hold the heavens inside as he continues to regard you like you’ll still run. 

But why? You hate, hate, hate that you don’t know. But you feel just as delicate as he looks, and you silently vow to protect him from everything that he can’t fight alone.

With your final touch, you whisper, “Is that too much?”

And as a man that speaks through actions, Yoongi responds with a kiss reminiscent of moonlight. 

Soft in the way it makes you protective. Bright in the way it makes you glow. 

Telling in the way it lets you know what he’s thinking. Overwhelming in the way it lets you know exactly what he means. 

“Whatever you want.”

Deep. Blue. Vast.

“It’s yours.” 

Terrifying.

Your arm bends so you can clasp his hand on the side of your face, and you know he feels your tears collecting in his palm. Solidarity in vulnerability. Comfort in absolute silence.

You kiss until he falls into you, and you stroke his head once again, running calm fingers through his strands and brushing them down with each pass. 

So incredibly, wonderfully afraid. 

Soon, the whole night feels ripe with new life. You don’t have to hide things or question a million. All that’s left to do is bathe Yoongi in the calmness you harbor, hoping it washes away any torment he’s self-inflicted over worries he manufactured.

Because he did the same for you. 

“Hey… There’s just one more thing.”

“Hmm.”

Smiling, you crack the mood with a joke, feeling sparkles pop from your eyes,

“Show me your cat and I’ll shut up.”

Yoongi puffs laughter next to your ear, his gravelly, raspy response sending delicious anticipation up your spine,

“How about you show me yours first.”

“Yoongi!”

He laughs again, fuller before giving your neck a kiss so strong that it slides you across his pillow. “It doesn’t have to take long,” he comments as your eyes swirl. “Come on.” 

Thrilled that he’s right—and happy that he’s okay, because he can always be with you—you chuckle. “If I show you, I want it to take hours.”

“Oh, baby girl,” he warns through a smirk you mercifully can’t see. “You won’t last if I go for hours.” 

“You don’t know t—” 

Your nipple is tweaked on a dime, snapping your back in an arch without warning and yanking a high moan out of your throat. 

When the fuck did he move!

“Yeah,” Yoongi tuts. “There’s no way.” 

When he props himself up, his eyes are still red, but he cradles your face and offers a smile as warm as his palm. “But you really wanna? Right now?”

Rendered speechless from his beauty even in strife, you can only nod. 

“Okay…” His fingers slowly, softly, tenderly outline your jaw before fuck a chokehold. “But if you tap out, I won’t be shocked.” 

Eyes sliding down your nose to regard him, you croak out a backhanded compliment, “Cocky ass.”

Of course he only cocks a strong brow, smile in a stupid slant. “Show me up then, baby girl.” He pats you twice on the cheek before clutching your chin again, lowering lips to your ear,

“Show me what a year did to you.” 

“I will cus I wanna,” you bite, stomach fluttering to hell at his switch in demeanor. Wasn’t he just angelic? Is this devil the same person? “Not cus you want it.” 

“Doesn’t fucking matter to me.” A hot tongue licks a confident stripe up your neck. “I can get you to do what I want anytime.”

Fucking hell, you agree. You do you do you do. But you aren’t gonna give him the satisfaction of agreement that easily. “As if.” 

He puffs amusement against your skin before latching on, and your moan floats right up to his ceiling. 

Before it fizzes out at the top, though, Yoongi whispers for you to kiss him, and you’re halfway through your second press to his lips before you pull away with a curse. 

“Too easy.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“You’re about to.” 

But despite all the bravado, all the confidence, he settles into a quiet demeanor. Leading you out of the bed. Standing toe to toe while his hand touches your chin. 

“It’s easier like this.” 

You nod.

And though he’s wearing the same thing he wore a year before, this time is vastly unlike the first. Hushed, not hurried; tender, not tense. While you help him, he undresses you, and you admire his skin as freely as he does yours. 

A shirt here. A jacket there. Pants next. Insecurities last. 

When you’re stripped bare, you feel no different. Because you already felt that way. Layers and layers already torn in scraps on his kitchen floor. 

“So beautiful.”

“So unfair.”

He kisses you again, hands roaming along your shoulders before molding you into his front.

If you aren’t mistaken, he’s still holding back, and you wonder if it’s because of all the conversation from before. 

So you show him that you’re okay with a deep lick of your tongue, tell him that you’re ready with hands clawing through his hair. Because he will always wait for your lead, and you’re starting to understand and love that more and more. 

You smile when you break away, tugging him down with you as you collapse onto his bed. 

“Please, baby,” you whisper to his lips. “I’ve missed this.” 

“Same, babe.” He nicks your neck. “Fucking same.” 

After you sigh, you offer in a wisp, “This isn’t just about what I want.” His kisses on your column almost distract you, but you continue, “So don’t hold back.” 

Yoongi simply lowers his mouth, leaving a trail of fire from your ear to your chest. When he captures a nipple in his mouth, you arch on instinct, hands finding purchase in his hair and offering encouragement on their own accord. 

His arm snakes behind you before he moves to kiss the other, sucking and slathering until it’s just as drenched. Awash with sensation, you start to feel all the want in your center build, alarmed that you’re already this prepped with very few motions. 

But it’s him. You know that nothing he does here should surprise you. 

“Bring your ass up here.” 

And yet. 

“Huh?”

He chuckles deep and slow while he thumps down beside you, removing the pillow behind his head while smirking. “Up here, babe,” he explains. “Put it on my face.” 

This is what he wants? Just like that? 

“Right now?”

“Uh huh.” 

Fuck. 

You’re already embarrassed to hell whenever he eats you out. But to have him smothered in your… You haven’t quite done it like this yet. 

But it’s what he wants. Who are you to deny him?  

Struggling even thinking about how to go about things, you slowly get to your knees, gulping when you realize Yoongi’s not gonna tell you what to do. 

It’s simple enough. The courage part is what’s missing. 

Screw it. Just do it. He clearly likes or doesn’t care how you look down there, so what’s the big deal having it so… On display? 

Your knees make hard divots in his mattress when you get close, and butterflies scurry about your stomach when you catch him watching you with amusement. 

Okay. You can do this. Just lift your leg and—

“Uh uh.” 

Shit! You halt mid-motion, falling forward a bit and catching yourself on his headboard. “What.” 

Yoongi puffs mirth while smiling, patting your ass while making you turn cold, “Turn around.” 

Oh. 

This is definitely something you haven’t done before. If he asked you to do this the first time, you would’ve heartily refused without a second thought. 

Is that why he’s doing this now? Because he figures you would be game? 

“You don’t have to, babe.” 

“Oh, no, I’m good,” you assure him, “It’s just, umm. New.” 

“I know.” His hand soothes the dip of your back. “But we don’t have to until you’re ready.” 

Always so considerate. He was then, he is now. 

Exhaling for strength, you smile before nerves lace your words. “Fuck it.” 

He just laughs, neck bobbing wonderfully with his hair as you gather confidence to swing your leg over him. When you face a computer that put itself to sleep, you can somewhat see your reflection. 

Damn, you really are presenting your ass so close to his—

Yoongi hooks strong forearms around your thighs, dragging you backwards and kissing your cunt without a second thought oh fuck!

Your moan is deep as you fall forward, hand landing on his thigh while the other digs into the bed. 

Oh. His dick is so perfectly positioned. You’re surprised your mouth didn’t swallow him on the way down. 

As you’re getting worshiped from below, you think this placement might become one of your favorites. Because, while you may have lost once tonight, you can show him there’s no way you’re letting him win here. 

A groan escapes as he suckles on your clit, and you push back while taking his cock in your fingers, wasting no more time in licking around the tip before giving it a cheeky kiss.

You hear him chuckle in satisfaction, and you fight back a whimper feeling him licking a stripe up your folds. Your lips get to work themselves, taking his head in and sucking before your tongue lathers him deeper in lust and saliva. 

So connected. Fulfilled. How something like this can be so intimate despite allowing zero eye contact is beyond you.

“Fuck, doll,” you hear more from his chest than his filthy mouth. “Like that.” 

You’re swirling, dipping, rubbing on him so intentionally. But It’s so fucking hard to concentrate when he’s making you puddy on his tongue. It’s shooting bolts down your limbs, and you feel so overcome with passion that you can’t think to do anything but take his meaty head in again and again. 

Drool runs from your mouth in globs, and you moan around his length when you feel a wet kiss to your clit. At your reaction, Yoongi reacts himself, rocking up into your throat and causing a sudden gag. 

“Shit.” 

Rough fingers reach down to fondle a nipple, and you buck back in shock, eyes rolling from the flurry of sensations he’s wreaking on your body. 

When you hear him groan, you don’t know if it’s from your taste or your movement. 

So you rock your ass again against his mouth.

And shiver at his sinful, slow snicker. 

Sucking on his pretty tip to gain confidence, you start to swirl your hips around, shooing away any lingering shyness because you feel so fucking sensual. 

You always do with him, even if you don’t think you are, even if it starts with you doubting yourself while holding a headboard. Yoongi brings out the darkest parts of you, showing you that they can be the best ones.  

When his praise rings out beneath, something in you growls to life. “I knew you’d be nasty here, too.”

Do even better than your worst. Make Yoongi himself surprised as fuck. 

Eyes lidded, you release him with a pop before diving right back on, throwing your ass while his cock stretches out the deep recesses of your mouth. 

Fuck, he’s keeping his tongue out why is that so fucking hot. 

You feel it as you keep bouncing, thrusting back and forth while he slowly laughs in utmost shock and satisfaction. One of his hands comes up to slap the side of your ass before grabbing as much skin as he can. “There’s no way.” 

You hum high around his dick in a question.

He spanks you again, hard enough to make you flinch off his length with a sloppy whine. “No way you’re still hustling me.” 

“I’m not.” Fuck, is that your voice? You don’t even recognize it.

“What a fuckin’ lie.”

“It’s true—Fuck.”

His tongue flicks your clit to cut you off on purpose, and your grunt only makes him laugh. 

“Could make a whole movie with you, goddamn.” The dip of your back is gripped with two hands before he hauls you backward, and he launches into sucks and kisses so wet that you turn shy all over again. Your thighs shudder around him as your arms seem to drain of strength, and you arch your back in a moan before swallowing him like it’s habit. 

Oh. He’s feasting. He’s feasting a little too well because you’re starting to tremble, winding hard hard fast in your center while your lips puff around his sopping length. 

It’s too much. It’s too too much. Gasping for air, your cheek squishes onto his thigh while you whine his name through your teeth. “I’m so close.”

The world tilts, and you don’t realize what’s happening until your back flops onto the bed, wide eyes watching as Yoongi smothers your drenched lips with his own—your essence swirling with his as you breathe every heady scent in.  

When you cry out that you were close, he cuts you off with another kiss. When you try again with furrowed brows, he only shoots you an impish smile while traveling across the bed to his nightstand. 

“Damn you,” you bite out, legs sore at their bends and your center aching like hell. Fuck, you almost wanna finish on your own—

“You remember me taking your drunk ass here? That one night?” Yoongi asks through a lopsided curve. 

Wait, when did he get a condom? You didn’t even register a drawer opening. 

Suddenly confused why he’s bringing that haze up, you shake your head. “I don’t remember shit.” 

“Well, I do,” he snickers before opening the wrapper in a smooth motion. “Everything you told me in the car was adorable.” 

As he wraps himself, you slowly shield your face with both hands, every feeling suddenly irrelevant. “Oh, god. Do I even wanna know?”

“Don’t care. I’m gonna tell you anyways.” 

He smothers your body with his, and you relish the feeling of his jewelry against your chest and his abdomen against your stomach. Even if you both lay just like this, you would be content. Present. Fully in the moment. 

“You said my dick was pretty.”

Nope moment over time to go.

Agony heats your fingers on the way out, “Oh, my god.”

You’re unfortunate enough to catch his smirk before he keeps going, gleefully driving the stake of embarrassment further into your soul,

“And you only wanna fuck if I keep the chains on.”

“That is a lie!” you shout in horror, stricken as Yoongi’s teeth fully show with his staccato laugh. It’s only after you moan at the weight of his necklaces that you downright disintegrate. “I did not say that.”

He pushes up in a kneel, his beautiful physique towering above you. “Why would I make that shit up?” 

“To make me cry.”

“Nah. Not when I can do this.” 

You’re about to fuck he’s slapping your cunt with his cock, the slight hits melting into pleasure as you flinch beneath him. When you pout, he only winks, and a layer of you melts into his sheets. 

“Hmm.”

“What?”

Yoongi slowly spreads you without a drop of shame, and you suppress a whine when he hums, “Yeah. Gonna eat you out again later.”

Again? Your blink is slow. “Later…?”

“When you’re half-asleep,” he simply explains, running a finger along your sensitive folds before languidly swirling. “I know for a fact you’d love that.”

You’re only half-coherent now, too, slowly being controlled by his lone digit prepping your growing impatience. “Okay,” you agree, syllables chipped. “Later then.”

“Damn, you almost gone already?”

“No no.” You hum, the feeling of euphoria strangely close and far, like he’s purposely keeping it within arm’s reach while barring it from your desperate clutches. “Just wanna come.”

“Almost got me for a sec,” he drones. “I know my girl can last longer than that.” 

Your mind blanks, instinct jolting you back to life only when he starts sliding his cock against your folds. 

“Uh uh,” he tuts, and you can both hear and see the smirk in his voice. “No reason to be shy.” 

Breathing rough, you rasp, “You’re just big.” 

So big. It could be your thousandth time with him—an impossible number—and he would still make you breathe through your mouth on the way in. You love it you love it, the slight ache a beautiful burden before paradise. 

“Relax, baby,” he soothes, and you try your best to obey while feeling stimulated to hell and back. Why does he have to be so good with his tongue? 

But he starts penetrating in earnest, the two of you groaning at different pitches when he makes his way in with a squelch. “Holy fuck, you feel—fuck.” 

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, making bunches of his sheets with hard fists. You pulse wildly as he moves in and out, letting your lips adjust to his length and sinking in more, more, deep. “Yoongi.” 

Brows knit in concentration, he looks like someone painted him with love, giving him definition with sharp strokes and modeling his jaw after a god. Or maybe they painted him and then the gods became jealous. That would be more likely.

Either way, you’re worshiping him with your very being, chanting his name and his name only while he delivers divine punishment between your folds. 

“Missed this pussy,” he grits, and you yelp at the way he gathers your legs with a growl. 

Lifting them high, he grips them against his shoulders while upping his pace, groaning when you dissolve into a mewling mess beneath him. 

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. The only two words you know, repeating like a broken record while you feel his hips smacking deliciously into yours with the same rhythm.

You react with a groan when he spanks your ass, but he spreads your legs before you can say anything coherent.

“Hold these up. All the way up.” 

“Oh, fuck,” you push through spent teeth, brain still on the same track. 

“Uh huh.” He still finds the strength to pin you with a grin, lopsided and taunting and thoroughly devastating. “You asked for this, baby girl.”   

Shit. You don’t know how this is gonna feel, but you know Yoongi’s about to fuck you senseless anyway. You’re about to feel him all the way up in your goddamn mouth. 

While you muse over all of this, his hands grip the other side of your legs, and your thoughts are cut with a cry as he sinks inside of you again. 

He only smirks, laughing and rubbing the back of a knee with a thumb. “You got it, babe. Relax for me.” 

“It’s so—oh, my god,” you wheeze, biting your lip because it’s something you have to adjust to. Heat clings to you as you exhale. Inhale. He’s praising you for doing so well. Exhale. You wanna say you believe him. Inhale. But you can’t. 

Overestimating. Yoongi is very much overestimating you. With a soft whine, you still try your best, fingers slipping on your sweaty thighs but holding on as his thrusts get deeper and fuller. 

He’s not going fast, so maybe he’s estimating you just fine, and after a nice—oh, that stroke was good—your body is starting to accept the newfound pushes with hunger. As you start to lean into it, he groans low, voice dripping with pride and joining the sweat on his chin, 

“There you go.”

“Feels… so good,” you sigh, arms shaking as you hold on. “You can… Go faster.” 

And you only get a single hum in warning before you yelp at his ceiling. Because he starts ramming into you, and you can’t decide whether to keep your head on the pillow or lean forward to watch him spear you, again and again and again and again—fuck! 

“Your tits, holy fuck.”

You feel them bouncing with your movements, and you can only imagine how you must look from his point of view. How he sees you lose control from above. 

Because from where you lay, he’s a king. 

Maybe your drunk self had some points about the chains.

Encouraged, you release your thighs to grope your chest, squeezing your breasts tight and just now hearing the headboard smacks above you, your whole body rocking with rough thrusts. 

And Yoongi lifts his head back with a satisfied smirk before watching you with pride, slamming into you and hitting a spot that has your eyes rolling into your head. Oh, he’s in deep. Oh fuck he’s still so deep it feels so perfect. 

You cry out, arching and hitting any pitch that your mind can halfway-think of. 

“God, you sound so—”

You offer up another moan, feeling your orgasm teleporting to the edge before he growls,

“You gonna come?”

“Yes!”

“Gimme that mouth.” You feel slick fingers snag your chin before his command rips from his throat, “Open up.” 

You do. So obediently, so wide, getting rewarded with spit flying from his filthy mouth into yours, and your groan comes out so guttural that you don’t even think it’s you.

“Good girl.”

But it is. It’s all of you and you’re suddenly snapping with the whip of pleasure, milking him with a force that has him losing some self-control of his own. You don’t see him throw blown out eyes to his spackled ceiling, but you certainly hear him, definitely feel his cock squelching deep inside as you pulse and squeeze and grip.

“Holy fuck, babe.”

“Yoongi.” It’s still going. Your denial of ecstasy stockpiled into the gush of a volcano, erupting everything that you weren’t allowed to before. Light flashes as your limbs lock impossibly hard, and you almost pass the fuck out from how overwhelmed you become.

But the waves do subside, the tide of his storm receding and uncovering emotions you hope bury back into sand. Your legs thump onto the mattress, and his slow laugh is too attractive as he smacks your hip. 

“You good?”

Thoroughly spent, you throw him a look. “Better than you,” you weakly challenge, smiling at his knowing laugh. 

“Gonna prove it?”

You nod. Holy shit, your skin is sweaty as fuck. 

“Then ass up, baby girl.” 

Oh, fuck. This may be where he ends you completely. 

Your body is molasses as you roll over, burying your head in a pillow and inhaling the mix of your scents with proud greed. When you’re told to lift your back, a cool pillow is slid underneath before warm, slick hands roaming over your back before ouch. 

“Oh shit, doll.” Yoongi stops as soon as you wince, softly touching the bruise you definitely felt on your back. 

“Where’s this from.”

“Me,” you mumble, heart clenching at how he sounds. Sharp, protective, promising things that have your toes curling. But you’re so spent that you can’t really speak, “Me. My fault. Sink.” 

You don’t see what he does when silent, but you feel his jewelry slide against your ass when he leans forward to kiss the sore spot. “Careful, love,” he wisps into your skin. 

“It’s”—you breathe—“It’s okay, baby. Really.” You turn enough to regard him with a single creased eye. Because you’re so satisfied and safe that your body is just limp, pleasure replacing your bones. “Who do you think I am?” you rasp. 

Hissing laughter, Yoongi leans forward to plant a wet kiss on your sweaty forehead. “Mine,” he simply states, like it’s been fact this whole time. 

Maybe he’s right. 

After checking if you’re okay, it’s only in his nature to make you the very opposite. 

“But just cus you’re mine doesn’t mean you don’t get fucked like a slut.” 

“Please,” you plead with a head containing nothing. “I want it.” 

“Oh, yeah? That’s what baby girl wants?”

You can only push a moan through pressed lips, nodding into his pillow before he tells you to bite it. 

Wasting no time, he rubs his thick head against your folds before sliding in, and the stretch alone raises your back on instinct. 

“Keep that shit down,” he orders, a large hand holding you down with finality. By your hip, of course, not your back. Because he remembers. And he accommodates. “Like that.”

And you do, curving up and holding it steady, proving that a year did change you. In more ways than one. 

As he fully sheathes, a flat thumb teases your asshole, and you wanna snap back at the feel alone. Don’t. Do not. 

When he chuckles, he pushes in deeper as a test, and you can’t take the feeling of feeling full in both ends without writhing. 

Maybe a year didn't change this part as much as the others. 

But you take both the welcoming intrusions, eyes skyward as you feel lifted from the ground entirely. Your knees start to give when your body wants to quit, but you hiss at how good he fills. Stretches. Molds you around him like a tight sleeve. 

“So big,” you gasp. “Fuck.” 

Not just big. He’s long. So long that he’s already hitting spots that have you blanking completely, and you whine his name as your body just moves on its own. 

Why is he chuckling? Why does he sound so satisfied? 

“There you go, baby girl.” 

Oh. 

He’s not moving you at all.

Fuck, you’re fucking into him and he’s watching, his hand on your ass gripping light as it bounces with each one-sided thrust that would have your past self slackjawed if they witnessed you now.

“Filthy girl.” 

You feel hot fingers slide over your hips before they find purchase in the dips above your thighs. Fuck, you love when he grips there—“Yoongi!” 

Without warning, he thrusts himself fully into you, shoving you forward and flinging an outright cry from your mouth. 

“How are you still so tight.” With a gravelly hum, he takes the reins, slamming you backwards repeatedly until you feel like puddy, melting onto his sheets until you feel permanently attached. 

Your thighs burn as you try hard to keep yourself upright, and he’s just gonna have to deal with the drool sliding into cotton because you really can’t keep it in. Not when his balls smack your clit like that, not when he’s groaning like that, not when your tears are rolling out like this. 

The only thing that you’re missing is him. Which is silly to think, but you want all of him. To see the way he reacts just like he can witness your downfall after downfall. 

You want it.

When you throw a look over your shoulder, you strain yourself so hard your neck stings. 

But it’s worth it. You’ll stay this way forever. If this is what it takes to see Yoongi like this, you’ll freeze for eternity. 

Because you have never seen him regard you like the way he is now. 

Dark. Electric. Possessive. A million emotions flash across his face, and your breath is taken away by half of them. 

The other five hundred thousand are ripped from you as he breaks eye contact, brows focused as he grits teeth at his thrusts instead. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck he’s tearing you open in the most magnificent way. Your body goes completely limp as you’re split in two again and again and again, mind lost as you escape into the deep ocean above.

“You like it, huh? Proving you can take this dick.”

“Shut up,” you grit, as if you didn’t just see bursts of light and color in his eyes. “I can take more.”

“Yeah?” 

Your scalp is pulled without prompt, and you throw your head back as he pistons in hard, screaming through teeth so clenched they may crackle and break. “Fuck!” 

When he wraps his hand around your throat instead, the moan you release is nothing but erotic.

“That’s right, baby girl,” Yoongi growls. “Tell me who’s pretty cunt this is.”

“Yours, oh fuck!”

“Uh huh.”

“Wanna see you,” you gargle out. 

“Hmm?”

With more force, you whine, “Wanna see you.” 

You fall forward as he lets you go, ripping himself from your cunt and launching you into the hot snowdrifts you made of his sheets. 

“All you have to do is ask,” he reminds you, and you wonder when he settled so close to your side. 

Overcome with passion and lust and a fierce need to stake a claim, you let ferocity launch you onto him, slinging an exhausted leg over him with adrenaline alone. 

“What—” 

Your lips swallow anything he was gonna utter, because it’s irrelevant. You want him. You want him more than you ever ever have and you don’t know why. You’re so wrapped in your haze that you don’t even realize you sheathed yourself without hands.  

“Hustler,” he praises between kisses.

“You like it.” 

“I love it.” He grabs the back of your neck while a hand slams your hips onto him, commanding with pride when your jaw flops. “Take that dick like it’s yours.”

Eyes striking, you thrust down with vigor. “It is mine.”

He slams up again. “It is.”

You fuck him without further prompt, bouncing your ass and loving how his ridges rub against you, the scent of sex and cologne and need permeating the rest of his apartment. Somewhere you tend to find yourself, even in your dreams.  

When he sucks on your nipple, you release a whine; when he grabs at your curves, you know not to think bad things. Your thighs sear right down to bone, but you power through because there is something in you that just cannot be satiated right now. 

What’s happening? Why are you feeling so fucking greedy?

While you’re a storm, he’s a quiet force. And he’s looking up at you like you’re an angel committing beautiful sins, him the mere mortal fortunate enough to witness.

More. You want more. 

As soon as his slick throat is in your fingers, condescending laughs pierce your heart through.

“So cute.”

What the fuck he’s quick. Your throat is clutched in a sweaty hand before you even realize what happened, your own digits thrown to the side as he turned the tide. Fuck, it feels good. Shit, he’s really choking you.

Your eyes roll high when he squeezes, command snapping your body into obedience,

“Keep going, slut.”

You will you will you will. Even when your airway depletes, even when his upward thrusts launch your soul out of your body. 

“Yoo—Yoong—I—” Your words curdle as you try to speak, and he mercifully releases you before everything hits you at once.

Brightness wipes your vision as you cry out, nails digging into Yoongi’s shoulders as you fall into his neck. You’re shuddering when you feel flipped again, and you can’t help but sob into his lips when he strokes with a tenderness you’ll think about for ages. When he thrusts one final time, you realize he’s coming, too. 

Tears rush out of your eyes as your third overlaps with the second, so caught up in your torrent that you don’t hear the words against your cheek. Feel the fingers interlacing with yours. Register the way they’re pressed into the bed near your head. 

All you expel is his name, wondering if it now exists permanently in the lining of your lungs. 

“Breathe, baby,” is the first thing that rings clear, and you lift up to take the very words right from his lips. Only then do you look at him fully—tethering your soul to his with no regrets. 

Slowly, everything ebbs. Heavy breaths fill the room, two at a time, as you descend from your erratic high.

Inhale Inhale. 

Exhale.

Inhale again. 

Exhale again. 

Sliding your hands up his flexed arms, you breathe him in. Again. And again. 

While he simply stares, you revel in his heat, ghosting your nails across his back and over his broad shoulders. While you used to feel caged in this way, with Yoongi, it’s more like a shelter. Another safe haven, and the very thought builds the confidence you have in your decision to say everything you couldn’t before. 

“I’m not seeing anyone else.” 

Your eyes flicker. 

“Like I said. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

You don’t know why that’s the first thing he decides to say. But you don’t know what you would’ve said in the moment either, content on simply watching the meteor showers in his eyes. “Okay,” you finally whisper, thoroughly spent, physically and mentally. “I can’t stop you if you do wanna see anyone—”

“I’ve been yours.” 

You blink.

“That’s it.” 

The meteors exist in yours now, flying high above the birds fluttering in your belly. “Oh…” 

What do you even say? How do you respond when you’ve had days, nights, summers when you’d see him and wonder? Wonder what it would be like if he gave you a chance? 

“Well, shit.”

Yoongi grins as he breathes out, slowly removing himself from your sore folds and gingerly vacating the bed. As he rids himself of protection, you question to his perfect ass, 

“What now?” 

He turns. “Hmm?” 

Your eyes find his. “What do we do now?”

When he comes back, he settles next to your tired bones, chains slinging down with gravity. “Up to you.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. I thought about saying something after Dalo, but I didn’t wanna put that on you.” 

He what? Blinking at his jewelry instead of his face, you feel like you’re floating all over again. “After Dalo?”

“Yeah. But I knew I didn’t deserve you. So I didn’t.”

“Yoongi…” 

“It’s all good,” he mutters. “Don’t worry.” 

What would he have said? To your brother, of all people, after Dalo? You can’t even fathom telling him at all and here Yoongi was thinking of outright saying it with his whole chest. 

But you have to be careful. This isn’t something you can just mention in passing. No matter how he’s informed, you know your sibling will go on a warpath, eyes blazing and fists clenched. “Fuck, I don’t know… I don’t wanna ruin anything between you.”  

“He’ll get over it.” 

“Will he?” 

“…I dunno.” 

“Same.” You sigh, tracing his necklaces and suddenly appearing in front of his door again. 

That day, your brother called Yoongi to ask where you were. He also told you to call Yoongi if you needed anything, that morning he left for his trip.

…Are you overthinking this, too? 

Is it really as farfetched as you think? To believe that he would be so against what’s transpired between you and his best friend? 

Most likely. The hope you feel seems false, like a Sun that you can pretend to clutch in your fingers.

Maybe it’s better to keep it on the downlow for now. “Let’s wait. At least until after Friday.”

“Whatever you want.” 

And the silence that settles is comfortable, with both of you breathing in the space between and offering tiny touches that like your soul aflame. 

The finish line is right up ahead. You’ve been through the mud and the rain, but you haven't been alone. 

Because Yoongi has been running with you the entire time, picking you up when you needed it, and removing obstacles you didn’t even know were coming. He’s been here, here, here, watching you take every step every inch of the way. 

“Gonna warn you now: you might get tired of me, doll.” 

“I’m already tired of you, the fuck.” 

And he gives you a grin that will burn into your memory forever, searing into multiple pages that it will take you years to turn over and forget. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, giving you a kiss that curls your toes. When you regard him with moons in your eyes, there’s a touch to your forehead, too. A touch that has become synonymous with home. 

“Come shower with me.”

Wednesday and Thursday couldn’t have been more ideal. 

Yoongi did exactly what you wanted, calling in the morning even if he didn’t need to be up, and waiting until you called at night to talk until you slept. 

He’d tell you about his day after asking about yours, and you listened with closed eyes whenever he’d leave you on speaker while working. Or cooking. Or simply lying in bed while cheekily saying you should be there instead.

As much as you wanted to see him, you knew you couldn’t push it. You had the house party to look forward to, and you knew you were gonna have to fight to keep your hands and feelings in check.

It’s Friday morning.

And you already seeing yourself failing.

“Morning.” 

“Morning.” 

You will never get tired of hearing his voice this early. “What’s the plan today?”

“Mmph.” 

You chuckle as he shifts his phone, yawn interrupting his own answer.

“Work. Then we’ll… lock up early and head over.” 

“Who’s going?”

“All of us.” 

You don’t know exactly what that entails.

But you at least know that means Jungkook’s going.

Another thing to mentally prepare for.

“K. What are you wearing?”

A set of subtle hisses crackle through, and you join him because your question is quite silly indeed. He rarely ever decides ahead of time.

“Why? You got a request?”

“Yeah,” you muse before deadpanning. “Please look unattractive.” 

There’s just a faint chuckle that tickles your ear. 

“Sure, baby girl.”

Ah, shit. 

“See you there.”

Goddamn it.

“Yoongi, I swear to—”

The line cuts.

And you groan, complaining into your pillow,

“He’s gonna look hot as fuck.”

A whole workday, one hell of a cooking storm, and several houseguest greetings later, you discover with a choke of your drink that you were right.

It’s when you’re mid-conversation with your friends that they all come through the front, three guys exuding an aura that have people staring from down the hallway. 

Of course you know the man in front sporting all black like the demon he is. But you also vaguely recognize the other two from way back when, one now built quite solidly and the other decked in shades and dripping swag all over your wooden floors. 

Right? They also ran with your brother for a bit, didn’t they? Gotta be the case if your recognition went off.

Wait, are they the ones from the studio? Yoongi said they were shutting it down then heading over. You can’t remember the other guys’ names, but you’re kinda glad that Yoongi’s working with people he knows, if your assumptions are correct.   

Your sibling pops into the foyer with wide arms, unfazed by the way their entrance made things just a bit quieter. “Y’all finally made it!” 

Welcoming them all, he ropes them into conversation while guiding them to the kitchen, and you have to tear your gaze away because even the way Yoongi clasps hands in greeting is driving you mad. 

Especially in that shirt.

With those chains.

Fucking hell, you’re gonna fight him.

“Who the hell were they?” Dom asks, hiding her growing and growing curiosity with a solo. 

“His studio guys.” 

“Studio guys?” Yuri questions with a neck crane of her own. “You know them?” 

Shit! You aren’t supposed to know about Yoongi’s job, much less anything surrounding him. 

Dom gives you a warning look while you stumble over yourself, “Oh, uhm. My brother does.” You take a much needed sip while feeling heat all over, pulling an assumption out of your ass. “They’ve all been friends for awhile now.”

“They look expensive.” Reia looks into a cup that seems very light in her hands, nose scrunching. “Mm. I need a refill.” 

“We’ll go with you,” Yuri chirps, and you inwardly brace yourself because you know exactly where you’re going to get one. 

Focus. Don’t make anything a bigger deal than it’s supposed to be. If you happen to talk to him, be fucking normal. 

Having Dom’s death glares in mind will help, you think.

As your friends lead you into the kitchen, they keep your previous conversation going—the one that was rudely interrupted just seconds before. When you nod along, your feet cross the threshold into the kitchen. When you break into a soft laugh at something Reia says, you force yourself not to look at the other people in the same space. 

Conversations and music fill the house like normal, and the cup in your hand has already been finished twice. 

Which dulls the nerves when your name is called. Though it doesn’t quite quell them completely. 

Damn it. 

What can your brother possibly want right now?

Your friends are still filling their solos and talking while you turn, sucking in a breath when all four pairs of eyes are directed at you from the other side of the island.

“You remember these guys?”

Temporarily thrown, you just tilt your head. “Uhh…” May as well tell the truth. With a half-wince, half-smile, you admit, “Not really, sorry.” 

Fuck, don’t look at Yoongi’s eyes creasing over his cup. Do not.

“Awhh, come on, princess!” 

You don’t know if your friends are looking, but you for sure know that the rest of the guys snap their gazes to the one that just spoke. 

When he realizes no one understands, he lowers his arms and looks at them, hand touching his chest. “Wait, does she not remember?” He smiles at you, taking his shades off. “It’s me! Hobi?”

“Oh, shit!” Shock from instant memory rushes you around the island, and you let him crush you in a hug. “How did I not know?” 

He lets you go immediately and prattles on, days of when he’d be nice enough to keep you company when no one else wanted to running through your mind. Whether on the outside courts or anywhere else you were dragged to, he was the one that stayed behind when everyone ran off. 

Because you’re a princess, he would say. And every princess needs a guard.    

“How’s your sister?” you ask, most likely the main reason he would be so protective. God, you really can’t believe you just forgot. Is it because he looks so damn different? Or is his aura the main thing that’s changed?

“She’s good, she’s good. Travels all the time now, though,” he laughs. “So I barely see her.” 

“I can somehow relate,” you say with a look at your brother, who immediately raises his hands.

“Not for awhile now, don’t worry.” 

Ouch. 

You didn’t know that. 

Did Yoo—

There’s a flurry of shouts from the back game room as he continues, “You remember Namjoon, too, yeah? Joon?” 

Gaze moving to the taller man, you smile, finally remembering with the mention of his nickname. Though he was quite boisterous whenever you saw him back then, he seems to have matured now. 

Both of these two seem so different. “I do. How are you?” 

“I’m good,” he says through a beautiful smile, and you melt when he asks right back. 

“Not bad. I’m tired as hell from getting everything ready, though.” When you check to see if your friends are still in the kitchen, you hold back a laugh seeing them huddled by the fridge. “Didn’t even get ready how I wanted to.”  

“S’okay,” he assures. “Could’ve fooled me.” 

“Easy,” your brother jokingly warns while Yoongi looks away with a smirk. 

“What? I’m saying she looks nice!”

Hobi can’t help but laugh, putting a hand on the man’s bicep before stating, “We know.” 

“I’m just saying. Nothing wrong with being honest.” 

You smile, appreciating the forthcomingness while feeling hot under Yoongi’s gaze, wondering what he’s been thinking throughout all these exchanges. “Thank you, Joonie,” you say. “Don’t mind them.” 

Deciding that it’s a good time to go back to your friends that are definitely gonna grill you soon, you say your goodbyes. “I’ll leave y’all alone now. It was nice to see you again!” 

“Where’s my hi?”

What.

What?

You flicker your gaze to Yoongi, brain wracking for a single ounce of a reason he thought saying that was okay. 

“Right?” Your brother—your brother?—adds on, “Not even a hi, damn.” 

Are you the only one feeling the air get a bit heavier? No? Hopefully it’s not affecting anyone else because they will most assuredly catch on. 

But maybe… Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe telling him about Yoongi will be somewhat okay.

“My bad,” you start, hiding behind what you usually do when thoroughly overwhelmed with his presence. “Didn’t see you there.” 

Everyone else erupts while Yoongi fights a grin with a cheek prod, and Hobi surprises you with his memory. While he smiles at them, his finger wags at you, 

“Still like this, huh?” 

“So savage,” your sibling tuts. “I dunno where she gets it from.” 

They all laugh again, knowing that all of them have contributed to your upbringing in some way. 

You’re really glad to see these two again. If they’re the ones Yoongi’s working with, no wonder they finished what they needed to on time. 

Of course, there’s still one other person that’s responsible for that impressive turnaround. 

And thankfully, you haven’t seen him yet. 

As you finally rejoin your friends, you think to yourself that it’s the best option. Maybe he decided to skip out on tonight. 

“Oh, hey!” 

You turn with remnants of joy still lingering, and your brother’s smiling.

“Jungkook’s coming, too.” 

Shit.

“I didn’t tell him you were back. He’s gonna flip shit.” 

There’s a falter in your smile when you dart eyes to Yoongi.

“Feel like y’all can pick up where you left off.” 

Ah.

Feeling the heat of multiple stares—from both in front and behind—you nod with your lips in a line. Because you can’t bring yourself to say a single thing in response.

Suddenly, your plan of telling your brother about Yoongi gets delayed one million years.

Back in the almost-quiet of your room, you hide yourself in folded arms while your friends speak with concerned faces.

“He didn’t know y’all broke up?”

“You mean Jungkook broke up with her.” 

“Yuri.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, sitting on the very edge of your bed. “I never said anything about that.” 

“Why not?”

Offering Dom a rueful smile, you shrug with half your heart involved. “He really liked Jungkook at the time. I didn’t wanna cause any drama before leaving.”

“You were miserable as fuck,” she shoots back. “How did you even hide that from him?”

“He just graduated and started his position right outta school,” you explain. “And all the family stuff was finally… He was going through enough crap already.” 

Lolling your head to the side, you stare at your manicured toes, briefly wondering if you should’ve gotten a different color. “We didn’t really talk about that stuff anyway.” 

They respond with varying levels of hums. 

“We can just stay in here all night if you want,” Reia offers as a fix, because that’s simply what she does. 

But as much as you wanna take that and run with it, this is a problem you don’t wanna flee from. Better to face it rather than letting it fester and grow into something worse. 

Someone in this house taught you that.

“It’s okay.” You don’t meet their stares. “If he wants to talk then we’ll talk. It just won’t be what he wants.” 

“Wait, what he wants? How do you know?” 

Shit. You didn’t tell them. 

Your eyes slide up to regard Dom before lowering back down to your floor. “I actually saw him already.” 

She doesn’t say a word as Yuri and Reia react. 

“What!”

“You saw him?”

You were so caught up in the good shit happening with Yoongi that you forgot what led to that night. The catalyst for everything finally falling into a beautiful mess. “Yeah. I ran into him before my interview.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

There’s shouts outside the door and names being called, and you all realize that can only mean that Jimin just arrived. 

“It wasn’t a big deal,” you assure them while wondering if Tae’s here, too. As your gaze pans to your nightstand, you make it a point to not touch the bottom drawer for a long time. “It didn’t last long anyway.”

You don’t know why you lied.

“Well, let us know if you need saving,” Yuri says, voice softer than usual. When she wants you to know that she’s really serious. 

“Not me.”

All of you shoot eyes at Dominique, inspecting her nails in a chair that’s usually topped with laundry. 

When she looks up, she cocks a brow. “I’d do more bad than good.” 

No one disagrees.

You’re grateful, but expel an empty laugh. “No, he’s…” You lean forward a bit, hearing the front door open and your brother’s loud ass greeting. “He’s different now. Matured.” 

“Well,” your friend sighs. “Matured doesn’t necessarily mean better.” 

You nod before standing. “We can go back out,” you offer, dusting nothing off your clothes. “I think he’s here.”

Jungkook is indeed in the house now, saying hi to everyone and having his blond hair suffering multiple head nudges. 

When you present yourself, you wish he wouldn’t regard you with those eyes. Eyes that you used to think about every night and every waking moment. But you remain polite as he brings you in for a gut wrenching hug, vowing to stay strong when he whispers,

“Can we talk later?”

“Yes,” you respond in return, “We should.” 

He nods before releasing you, offering some politeness of his own as he immediately turns and gives you space. “Hey! What’s up?”

“Jungkookie!” 

“You’re so big now!” 

Your shoulders drop in a sigh as you watch him go about the front room, getting happy greetings from all around while he predictably wanders into the kitchen. 

But something he shouts has your spine snapping straight. 

“Yoongi! Where’s your date? Are they here?”

Oh.

Wait, what?

Multiple voices fight for top volume when Yoongi looks at him from the island, expression thankfully not giving anything away. 

“Wait a minute.”

“You never told us!”

“I fucking called that shit!” 

Panic sets in at your brother’s shout, knowing Yoongi’s gonna have people clawing into his throat for answers the entire night if he doesn’t do something miraculous.

“Not seeing anyone, Kook,” is all he says, to which he gets doused with a wave of disbelief.

“He’s lying.” 

“I’m telling you, I was right.” 

“No wonder he’s looked so happy lately.”

You don’t know why you can’t breathe. Would it be obvious? He’s not seeing any of their friends. And this town is big but it’s not the biggest. Who would they start suspecting, if not you? Is that ridiculous to think that can’t be it right there’s no way—

An arm swings over your shoulders and rushes you out of sight, and you smell cologne and leather before you recognize who it is.

“Loosen up, babe,” Jimin instructs, voice so firm that you automatically reset. “There we go.” 

“Fuck. Thank you.” 

“Even had me shaken up.” He releases you when you get into the safety of the empty hall, thrilling conversation spilling out of the kitchen and onto your heels. “But he can handle himself.” 

“I know,” you whisper, repeating it to yourself in some sort of mantra. “I know.” 

“They’re in the game room.”

“Okay.”

You join them with buzzing thoughts, all of them watching Yuri’s sister compete in a speedy card game. 

“Hah!” Jia yells as she slaps the fold-out table in triumph, rapidly beckoning people to give up money after what you think is another win. “Gimme my money, chumps. Who’s got next?”

Yuri yells from your corner, “How much you got?”

“Enough for those shoes I want!” 

“Let’s go!”

Laughing at the chuckles and groans, you still can’t believe the sisters’ dynamic is this strong, this different. It’s refreshing as much as it’s strange, tearing your attention away from your fears in an instant. 

Broad shoulders enter the room from the kitchen entrance, and Jia calls them over immediately, 

“Ah, Seokjin! Hurry up and eat so I can take your money, too.” 

“No chance!” He looks at the bills next to her cards. “Earn some more so I can take it all.”

More raised conversation springs to life as they banter like always, and you’re about to say something to Reia when your phone vibrates. 

Fuck. 

Slipping away into the hall, you hope it’s who you want it to be.

It is.

Yoongi [10:02pm]: You gonna be ok?

Good. Looks like he got away in one piece. 

Briefly, you wonder where he is, whether it’s in the house or out back. If your brother went to go take a hit, they’re probably lounging in the backyard by now.   

But then again: would he text you in front of him? Just like that? Not after that eruption in the kitchen. Impossible, right?

You [10:04pm]: yeah

You [10:05pm]: i didn’t expect kook to ask that

When he responds right away, you think he may be alone. 

Yoongi [10:06pm]: It’s all good. I got us

You [10:06pm]: i know<3

You [10:07pm]: but im mad.

The hallway is somewhat occupied with people, friends of your sibling that you recognize in various ways. Music bursts through the house still, getting more lively as the night decides to finally kick-off. 

Yoongi [10:08pm]: Wait why?

You [10:08pm]: u look hot when i said not to ☹️

More shouts blast from the game room, and you look back to see that Seokjin has indeed started to join the gaming fray.

You need to be somewhere quieter. 

Making your way to another, less traveled corridor in the house, you sigh as you lean against a familiar wall. Full of conflict and new fears that you didn’t consider before. 

You don’t wanna go back out there. 

When you check your phone again, you get a text that you don’t get to read.

“Hi.”

Fuck.

Here goes nothing and everything.

“Hey, Kook,” you whisper, locking your phone and turning around. 

Never one to wait, he asks without any prelude, “Got a sec?”

And you nod, hoping that this conversation will be one you can get through. 

Wanting nothing more than to rest in the comfort only Yoongi’s arms can give.

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tbc. <3

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for the bro reveal: this was one of the very first 3tan bro questions i got<3 and i’ve stuck with it since the very beginning!! (it’s not any of the members!)