#bss2022

You normally attach yourself to Jimin at these, but he’s betrayed you this year by bringing an absolutely gorgeous date. They’re currently hogging the doorway with mistletoe above it. You make a mental note to remind him tomorrow that the PDA thing stops being cute after a while.

“Work’s good,” you say, finally answering the question. “Nothing new. How about you and Jin? All good?”

“Nothing new to report!” she grins. Then, the smile slips off her face a little as she glances at her phone. She notices you watching and grimaces. “Sorry,” she says, “I’m not trying to be rude, I’m just keeping an eye on the radar. The storm tonight is supposed to get nasty.”

“Hey! What’s the rule tonight?” a voice bellows from the living room. It’s Taehyung, perched against the back of one of his couches, and he points an accusatory finger at the girl you’re talking to.

She must know something you don’t, because while you’re baffled, she looks chagrined. “Don’t talk about the blizzard,” she recites by rote. 

“Don’t talk about the blizzard,” he repeats. “Have another drink. It’s Christmas Eve, we welcome the snow.”

“You’re the only person I know who’s optimistic enough to try to throw a party on a night they’re calling for the storm of the century,” Seokjin tells him, making his way into the kitchen - probably to protect his girlfriend from Taehyung’s scoldings. 

“They say that every time,” Taehyung scoffs, waving a hand. Then he’s up and moving, heading towards the dining room, where a spread of food is laid out. 

There must be more people in there, you think, because the kitchen and the living room are definitely looking a little less crowded than they were an hour ago. Yoongi and Hoseok are on the couch, glasses in hand, talking quietly. The tv, mounted high on the wall, plays a classic Christmas film in black and white. You stop before the balcony doors, peering out into the night. The lamps that line the parking lot glow orange, and you can see in the lamplight that snow is falling steadily, and it’s starting to accumulate a little on the pavement below. 

Jimin comes up beside you. His date’s lipstick is still smudged in the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a hot mess,” you tell him affectionately. 

“I think we’re gonna head out,” he tells you, ignoring the jab.

You shake your head, your earrings glittering in your reflection in the glass. “It’s not even nine,” you point out.

“The roads are going to get slick,” he tells you, suddenly serious. “You should think about getting an Uber before too long, too.”

“You’re going to break Taehyung’s heart,” you inform him. “I think he’s starting to catch on that people are leaving.”

“He should have rescheduled the party!” Jimin says hotly; he and Taehyung had argued about this passionately all week, ever since the forecast picked up on the storm coming through. “We could have done this yesterday, no blizzard, everyone would have stayed all night!”

Jimin’s date slinks over and presses her hand to his upper back. “Ready?” she asks, voice like silk. 

“Bye,” you tell him sulkily. In the reflection, you watch him pause to tell Yoongi and Hoseok goodbye. They each stand, reaching in one at a time to give him a quick one-armed hug goodbye. 

You keep watching the reflection in the glass as Hoseok takes advantage of already being up and heads for the dining room.

You knew it would happen at some point tonight - you’re alone in the living room with Yoongi. You’d just hoped it would happen after you were a lot drunker. 

He meanders over. You glance at the drink in his hand - whiskey, neat. You could have guessed that on a gameshow and earned some money. 

He’s dressed in all black - down to the chelsea boots. His hair is half-up in a bun that sits just behind the crown of his head. The rest brushes the tops of his shoulders, curling slightly at the ends. 

He’d never had long hair like this before. It’s a crime how fucking good it looks. 

Your gameplan tonight has been simple: avoid, avoid, avoid. But Yoongi stands close enough to reach out and touch you, sips at his whiskey, and murmurs, “It’s been a while.”

Five years. But who’s counting? 

“It has,” you allow. You hate confrontation, you don’t want this to be a thing. You’re determined to be polite, play nice, and hopefully get out of here unscathed. “How have you been? Are you enjoying yourself?” 

He wiggles his head. “Eh. You know I’m not into all that holly, jolly shit.”

“It’s a Christmas party,” you point out flatly. “Holly, jolly is kind of the point.”

He shrugs. “The point for me is just to see the guys, catch up with everyone. It’s been a long time since we were all together.”

He means we the guys, not we you and him. But your heart still speeds up at the word, the traitor.

You nod, turning away from him to look outside again. But your eyes stay on his reflection, both of you standing with your backs to the party. He looks down at his drink, swirls the amber liquid around the bottom of the glass.

“You always did hate the holidays,” you observe absently. 

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” he says, so gently that it shocks you into turning to look at him.

“Do what?”

“Rehash everything,” he says with a shrug. “Talk about everything we remember. Talk at all.”

“If you don’t want to talk to me, then don’t,” you snap, suddenly defensive and heated. “You came over here, not the other way around.” So much for polite and non-confrontational. But damn, he has some audacity.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, a little quickly, holding up his one empty hand like he’s surrendering. “I just meant… don’t feel like you have to, if you don’t want to. Don’t do it for my sake.”

Your temper settles, but you still feel a little… disgruntled, unsettled. “If I didn’t want to talk to you, I wouldn’t be,” you grumble. 

He smiles at this. “That’s right. You never do anything you don’t want to do.”

Maybe that used to be the case. 

The liquor takes over your mouth. “I didn’t want to break up,” you say pointedly, “so I guess that’s not true.”

He huffs out a single laugh, shaking his head at your audacity. “You always just say shit,” he murmurs. “To hell with the consequences.”

“What consequences?” you demand, turning to face him fully. “Are you going to dump me more? I fail to see how I could make things worse for us after five years of not speaking.”

He licks his lips, eyes on his glass again. That was the thing about you and Yoongi - he’s right, you did just say shit. And he always just handled it. He always heard you, processed it, and dealt with it productively. He never took the bait and got mad back, never yelled - even when you’d wished he’d yell. 

“It’s because,” he’d told you, sometime around seven years ago, when you were together, “when you say absolutely wild shit like that, you always mean something else. And I just happen to be very good at translating you.”

Now, he meets your eyes again, having processed. Having translated. “What I’m hearing you say,” he says slowly, “is that you’re still mad at me.”

That’s all it takes to take the wind out of your sails - that’s always how it worked with you and Yoongi. You blustered and got worked up, and he defused you easily - just by meeting your gaze, just by assuring you that you were heard. 

“I think I’m mad at our circumstances,” you correct quietly. “And I think I’ve had too many of these.” You eye the cocktail in your hand with narrowed, accusatory eyes.

He gives you the barest sliver of a smile. “Don’t blame the drinks,” he says, shaking his head. “You never could lie to me - it has nothing to do with alcohol.”

He’s right. For all your faults, for all the negatives you can take credit for, you always told him the truth.

Namjoon appears in the living room, a beer in hand, still in the bottle. 

“I’m trying to decide which one of you needs to be rescued from the other,” he admits, looking between you, “and I honestly can’t tell.”

“Rescue him from me,” you say. “He’s been nice and I’ve been prickly.” 

“You?” Namjoon says in mock surprise. “Prickly? No way.”

You flip him off, smiling. 

Seokjin comes up behind Namjoon, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think we’re going,” he says, looking past you to the snow outside. “I don’t want to drive once the roads are slick.”

Namjoon sighs, following his gaze. “I was having fun,” he says sadly. “But I’m probably not too far behind you.”

“Nooo,” Taehyung whines from the dining room. “Everyone stop leaving! It’s just a little snow!”

Seokjin’s girlfriend finds him, joining your little circle, her phone still in her hand. “We’re supposed to have almost three inches by midnight,” she says in a whisper, clearly not wanting Taehyung to come after her. “We need to get moving.”

When Seokjin and his girlfriend leave, you float back towards the dining room. Namjoon and Yoongi stay behind, talking quietly. Probably, Namjoon is checking to make sure you weren’t too mean to him. Which… that’s fair. 

The truth is, you aren’t mad at Yoongi. How could you be? When he ended things, he hadn’t been cruel, or unfair. His decision had been made logically. You understood exactly why he felt he needed to do it.

That’s where the hurt came from, you figured. You were always led by your emotions - quick to anger, but quick to laugh. Yoongi was always more even-tempered, logical. While you were packing up your life to move away from home for university, he’d laid out the reasons you shouldn’t stay together like they were a grocery list. 

Like it didn’t hurt him at all. 

None of his reasons were wrong. But would it have killed him to act like he cared? You’d been together three years - and you felt like they should count more, since they were such formative ones. Like dog years - each one should have counted for seven. It had broken your heart to let him walk away - shouldn’t he have felt something, too?

You’d dated plenty in college, a few of those relationships getting serious enough to last a few months. But at the end of the day, nobody compared to your first love. How could they? How could anyone? 

No one understood you like Yoongi. No one could translate you like Yoongi. No one knew - or learned - how to settle you down like Yoongi. No one had that mental encyclopedia of useless knowledge like Yoongi. No one else had that perfect blend of dry and earnest like Yoongi. No one else fit to your body like a puzzle piece like Yoongi. 

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter then, and it doesn’t matter now. Yoongi had left, Yoongi had taken the decision right out of your hands and walked away with it. You weren’t mad at him, but you definitely resented that.

You’d had years to get over it, to forgive him, to come to terms with the fact that he was right about every single thing. But forgiveness and understanding are one thing. Letting go - of him, of loving him - is something else entirely, and you’re starting to think that even a lifetime of years won’t be enough for that.

That’s enough of that, you think, giving yourself a rough mental shake. You set down your drink glass and head for the bathroom, but it’s occupied. You lean against the wall outside, counting your breaths, trying to get yourself back into that holly, jolly headspace. 

The door opens and Jungkook emerges, singing under his breath, “Pah-rum-pum-pum-pum!”

“Hi, JayKay,” you say, moving to slide past him into the bathroom.

“Oh, hey!” he says brightly. “I was just about to leave. You have a way to get home, right? It’s getting worse out there.”

“I was just going to Uber,” you tell him.

“Better do it soon,” he warns. “Soon the drivers aren’t going to want to be on the roads.”

“Good point,” you say, and wave a quick goodbye before shutting the bathroom door. You give yourself a stern look in the mirror.

Get it together, please, you think firmly. Seeing your ex - this ex, too, not just a casual one - for the first time in five years earns you a little wallowing, you think, and you fully intend to. At home. Later. Not here, in front of everyone. 

Not here, in front of him. 

Back in the kitchen, the party has really dwindled down to the last few people. Outside, snow falls as steadily as Taehyung’s guest list. 

The peer pressure gets to you, and you pull out your phone and open a ride-share app. It takes a while before a driver connects, but you’re persistent. Once you have a driver, you watch the little image of their car start to head in your direction on the map.

From the dining room, you hear Yoongi make a tch of frustration. “No one is picking up for me,” he grumbles, seemingly to himself. 

“Good,” Taehyung says seriously. “Don’t leave me.”

You go find your coat, slipping your arms into the sleeves and doing up each button. When you return to the dining room, Yoongi and Taehyung are the only ones left. Taehyung is fully, blatantly, sulking, his arms crossed on the table and his chin resting dejectedly atop them.

“Better luck next time, bud,” you tell him kindly. 

Yoongi is still squinting at his phone screen, frowning.

You feel a twinge of concern, of the need to make it better for him the way you used to on a regular basis. “Still nothing?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t even see anyone on the map.”

You check your phone again - your car is just up the road. “I have one,” you tell him. “Join mine - we’ll just request the extra stop.”

Yoongi meets your eyes, holds your gaze for a minute. Then, he says, so seriously, “Are you sure?”

You know he means it. You know if you give any indication that you don’t want him in a car with you, he won’t push it. 

“Yeah,” you say. “Of course. I’m not going to leave you stranded here.”

“Why not?” Taehyung whines, kicking his feet a little in protest. 

“My car’s just here though,” you warn, eyes on your screen, both of you absolutely ignoring the host of the party. 

“I’ll grab my coat,” Yoongi says, and heads for the hallway.

“Sorry, Taehyung,” you say sympathetically. “I know you’re sad.”

He refuses to look at you. 

After giving over-the-top goodbye hugs to try and un-sulk the whiny baby, you and Yoongi head down the stairs and outside. You don’t look behind you to check that Yoongi is following. The car idles by the curb, and you double-check the license plate against the app. 

In the backseat of the car, you slide over to make room for Yoongi. As soon as he closes his door and the car lurches into motion, the vibe changes. You sit stiffly, ramrod straight, eyes on the windshield. Yoongi’s not sitting quite as straight as you, but there’s a tightness to his shoulders, like he’s holding himself carefully so he doesn’t touch you by accident with the car’s inertia. 

You had put in your parent’s address when you requested the ride, since that’s where you’re staying until New Years’ Day. You and Yoongi sit in blasting, blaring silence as the car crosses the middle of the town you’d both grown up in, that you’d run around in together as teenagers in love. But, past town, towards the quiet neighborhood where your parents’ house is, the car slows to a stop.

“I can’t go through this way, Miss,” your driver says, peering at you through the rearview mirror. “There’s a powerline down up there.”

“Oh shit,” you say, which is probably not very polite of you. You lean forward to look at the same time Yoongi does, your shoulders bumping. You both recoil quickly. 

“I think you can get to the development from the other side,” you muse, “but we’d have to backtrack and go around the lake on the other side…”

“Let’s just go to my place,” Yoongi interjects. “The roads are getting worse, and it’s close.”

You frown. Yoongi’s parents’ house - which you’d been to plenty of times as a younger person - is on the other side of town. Not close by your standards, but you aren’t here to argue.

Or maybe you are.

“I don’t know, Yoongi,” you say, uncertainty creeping into your voice. “How will I get home from there?”

“You might have to stay,” he admits, leaning down to better look at the road through the front windshield. The driver sits, watching you debate, waiting for a directive. 

You give Yoongi a silent look like, okay, and so you see my problem?

He scoffs at you. “It’s fine. We can handle one night.”

You want to ask, how sure are you about that? Instead, you start to tell the driver Yoongi’s parents’ address. 

“Wait,” Yoongi says, putting a hand gently on your arm to stop you. You both freeze, looking at the point of contact. Yoongi shakes himself out of it first, and tells the driver a different address. 

The car shifts back into drive and you look at Yoongi quizzically.

“Did your family move?” you ask finally.

Here’s the thing. You know Yoongi, you get Yoongi; five years apart hasn’t changed that at all. So when he licks his lips, shifts his gaze to his feet, and starts rubbing the back of his neck, you know it’s guilt.

“Yoongi?” you prod, suspicious.

He mumbles something, still not looking at you.

“What?” you snap. “You what?”

“I sort of moved back last month…” he repeats to the floor. 

“You live here?” you repeat, dumbfounded. “You live in town again?”

“Currently, yeah,” he says, and there’s something in that currently that you’d really like to examine, but you’re still fucking floored. 

Yoongi had gone to university in the city - hours away. The distance thing was reasons one through four of his Why We Need to Break Up list. It had made sense, logistically. It made sense when you went abroad for university, and he stayed here. It made sense when you returned and got an internship and then a full-time job in a different city, hours in the opposite direction. It made sense when you managed to go five entire years without being in the same place.

But now he was here. Reasons one through four, moot. 

Reasons five to whatever largely revolved around being young and needing to experience the world and figure out what you want in life, that kind of shit. Now it’s five years later and you’ve both experienced plenty of bullshit.

Reasons five through whatever, moot. 

You wonder, wordlessly, heart pounding again, if Yoongi knows or cares that every reason he gave you to validate walking away no longer applies. 

“You live here,” you repeat. You’re stuck on it, you can’t move on. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah,” he says guiltily. “I know you didn’t. I… was honestly fighting with myself about if I should reach out or not. I guess I ultimately decided not… since you’re in the city, and you have your whole life and everything…”

What life? You wonder. 

The car pulls into a small, understated neighborhood. You’ve been here before; your chemistry partner from tenth grade lived in this development, you’d come to do homework more than once.

It’s always so weird to come back to this town, where everywhere you go has memories, secondary definitions. It’s not just a library, it’s the library where Yoongi had kissed you for the first time. It’s not just a park, it’s the park where you’d had your first fight, where you’d screamed at him in front of God and the ducks and all the moms pushing strollers. It’s not just a diner, it’s the diner where Yoongi had told you that it made no sense to try and stay together from different time zones. 

Everything came back to him. It always had. It always does. In a lot of ways, you felt like you were fated to be tied to him this way - and you usually didn’t believe in shit like that. 

You always break your own rules for him.

The place is small, and not very Yoongi-ish, but you keep your thoughts to yourself as Yoongi slides out of the car and waits for you. 

“Get home safe,” you tell the driver before closing the door. Yoongi’s got his house keys in his hand, and he leads you up the walkway. It’s slick, and you try to step only in the footprints he leaves in the inch of snow coating the ground.

Inside, the light over the sink illuminates a small, mostly empty kitchen. That’s not very Yoongi-ish either, you think. You remember him cooking all the time - appliances everywhere, cutting boards hanging, pots and pans stored on hooks. 

He passes the kitchen and enters what looks like the living room, reaching to click on a few dim lamps. They cast a yellow glow to the room.

You set down your purse and fold your coat up on top of it. Yoongi waits for you in the living room, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the window, watching the snow. His jawline from the side nearly takes your breath away. He’s so damn beautiful it makes you sick.

And he’s back, Yoongi is back. 

“Do you want something to drink?” he asks, finally looking at you.

“Whatever you’re having would be great,” you tell him. You settle gingerly on one end of the couch as he busies himself in the kitchen. You shoot your parents a quick text that the roads were too bad and you weren’t going to make it back to their place so they wouldn’t worry. 

Yoongi returns with two glasses of red wine. He hands you one wordlessly and sits opposite you on the couch.

“So,” you say. The awkward, hyper-polite vibe from the car is back. Like you’re strangers. Like you didn’t know each other inside and out, once. “You’ve been here a month?”

“Just shy of it,” Yoongi corrects politely. “I signed a two month lease, so… I’ve got a few weeks to figure out my next move.”

“You don’t think you’ll stay?” you ask, then sip at the wine. It’s good - of course it’s good, he’s got great taste. You love and hate that about him.

He shrugs, drinks from his own glass. “Doubt it.”

He doesn’t give you any more information than that - why he’s back, what’s next for him, why he’s here for such a short time. 

You don’t press it. He’ll tell you if he wants to. 

Instead, you both drink in silence. Outside, the snow seems to redouble its efforts, the wind picking up until it seems to be snowing sideways for minutes at a time before calming into a normal downward fall again. 

“I think we made the right choice,” Yoongi murmurs, and it takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the weather and Taehyung’s party, not about your past. 

“Mhm,” you nod, as you come back into the present. That’s a problem you have - you’re always looking back. “Imagine if we were just leaving now? What a mess. Thanks for taking me in, I guess.”

“You guess,” he repeats, rolling his eyes, but there’s no ire in it. 

You drink in silence a little longer, and then Yoongi rises with a sigh. “I’ll go put clean sheets on the bed,” he says, sort of absently, like he’s both talking to you and also just thinking out loud. “And then I’ll show you how to work the tv in there if you –”

“I’m not sleeping in your bed, Yoongi,” you tell him flatly. 

He balks. “I didn’t mean with me, I meant by yourself!”

“No, I know that,” you reassure him. “But I’m not letting you sleep on your own couch because of me. I’ll sleep out here. It’s fine.”

“Absolutely not,” he says, shaking his head vehemently. That long hair swishes. “You’re a guest. I’m not putting you on the couch.”

“Yoongi,” you say sternly. “If I know you’re out here on the couch and I’m in there with your whole friggin bed, I will simply not sleep because I will feel too guilty about it! And I would like to sleep. So, please, put your chivalry and hospitality aside, and let me sleep. Out here.”

He considers this, because he knows you, and he knows you’re telling the truth. “Fine,” he concedes, and disappears into what must be his bedroom. 

When he returns, he’s carrying a stack of what looks like linens. He sets down the pile and you spy blankets and pillows. He pushes the pillows aside gently and picks up something else, turning to hold it out to you, an offering. 

It’s gym shorts and a large tshirt, and you reach to take them without thinking. Once they’re in your hand, they feel suddenly heavy with meaning. You used to wear his clothes all the time - you might have one or two of his hoodies in the back of your closet at home because you love them and don’t want to get rid of them, even though you feel too weird to actually wear them. You’re not sure how you feel about wearing his clothes again, now that it means nothing. The alternatives are pretty undesirable, though, so you’ll have to grin and bear it.

“There’s a half-bath on the other side, through the kitchen,” he says, nodding towards the bathroom in question. “So you don’t have to feel weird walking through my room to the full bath if you don’t want to. Though... do you need to shower? I can get you towels and stuff –”

“Maybe in the morning?” you say, eyeing the clock on the wall. “Just… could I borrow face-soap? And toothpaste?”

You’ll have to make do without your make-up remover and an actual toothbrush. Finger-brushing it is. 

When you emerge from the bathroom, teeth freshly finger-brushed, wearing Yoongi’s clothes, he’s standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing out the wine glasses you’d used.

You brush past him silently, and start setting up the couch how you want it. You hear the sink turn off, the click of the lightswitch as he shuts off the lights behind him. He comes back through the room and pauses in his doorway.

“Do you need anything?” he asks. 

“No,” you say, feeling small in his baggy shirt, feeling small in the face of all the feelings you’re swimming in right now. “I’m all good.”

He looks at you for a long minute, searching. “Okay,” he says, finally. “Sleep well.”

He turns into his room, and you watch his skinny wrist turn as he reaches to shut the door.

“Yoongi,” you say, the word out of your mouth before you really know what will follow it. He pauses, peeks his head back into view, raises an eyebrow at you. “Thanks,” you say, meekly.

He nods, silent, then reaches to close his door, gently and effectively shutting you out.

You get comfortable on the couch, bunching the blanket up around your head how you like it. It takes almost no time at all to fall asleep, and when you do, you don’t dream.

You’re awakened sometime later by a noise, and you sit up, your brain scrambling to catch up to the present and figure out where you are.

A couch, it processes. It comes back to you a little at a time. Yoongi’s couch. Yoongi’s house. Yoongi’s house in town.

The noise that woke you must have been his bedroom door opening, because as you slowly get your bearings, you become aware of him staring at you from his doorway. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says apologetically, then moves across the room towards the kitchen. “I just needed water.” Then, from the kitchen, as an afterthought, he asks, “Do you want one?”

“Please,” you say immediately, mentally cataloging all the effects of dehydration you can feel. Cottony mouth, ringing ears, the tingling beginnings of a headache…

He returns to the living room and stops near the couch. You stretch to turn on one of the dim lamps, casting a quiet yellow on the room. He stands there in too-big pajamas and holds out a water bottle silently. 

It’s definitely still the middle of the night. You can’t have slept more than a few hours. Everything feels different, somehow. It was so awkward before; you’d felt the need to be cautious and hyper-polite. Now everything feels blurred, fuzzy with sleep, softer. You’re sitting up, the blanket you’d been sleeping under still over your lap. You reach over and lift the other side, holding it up like a question.

Yoongi pads over and sits on the far side of the couch, but he curls his legs up and slips his bare feet under the blanket. You let it fall, covering him from the shin down.

He taps on his phone and grimaces at the time. “Hey,” he says, a little wry, “Merry Christmas.”

You smile. “Merry Christmas, Yoongi.”

He taps at his screen again and a speaker near his tv comes to life, playing what has to be a Coffee Shop Christmas playlist, pre-curated. You lean your head against the back of the couch, listening to the strum of acoustic guitar and the gentle snare of a drum meander through a mellow, lethargic version of It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.

“Christmas music, huh?” you tease, eyes closed. “That’s very holly, jolly of you.”

“I don’t hate Christmas,” he protests. “I’m not, like, a Grinch. It’s just… another day. So is tomorrow. Why all the fuss?”

You bump his foot with your knee beneath the blanket. “Scrooge.”

Ignoring your teasing, he looks sideways at you, something baleful on his face. “Y/N? I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

You’re surprised into silence, looking back at him across the couch. “What? What for?”

He grimaces, like the answer is too big, like he’s got an annotated list of every fault he’s mentally cataloged. “For all of it, I guess.”

You’re not letting him off the hook; this is too important to skirt around. “What are you sorry for, Yoongi?” you ask seriously.

He laughs once, quietly, incredulously, like he can’t believe you. “You really want to go there?”

“You know I do.”

He thinks before he speaks - one of your favorite things about him. “Because for the last five years, I hated myself for leaving you behind. And I wondered every day if you hated me for it, too.”

You sit in silence, feeling frozen. Yoongi lets you - Yoongi waits. Is he admitting regret? Does that mean he’d do it differently, given the chance?

Because here you are - being given the chance, in a way.

“I was never mad at you for going,” you tell him, because you know he needs to know. Yoongi doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean, which means he really did wonder if you hated him. You don’t owe him much, but you figure you owe him this truth. Then you admit, “But I was mad at myself for… letting you. Did you… I mean, should I have argued? When you left?”

You’d always wondered. What would have happened if you’d fought just a little harder for him to stay?

He scoots a little closer, tugging the blanket closer to his knees, thinking about your question. “I think part of me had hoped you would… but it wouldn’t have changed my mind,” he tells you honestly.  “Just would’ve made it hurt more. The way things happened, I could lie and tell myself you were fine with letting me go.”

You exhale on a note of indignation. “Fine? That was you. You were so… okay with walking away.”

He shakes his head. He must have taken the bun out when he went to bed, and his hair swishes around his shoulders, loose and beautiful. “I wasn’t okay. I didn’t go a single day and not wonder… how you were. I didn’t go a single day sure that I made the right choice.”

You feel, weirdly, kind of pissed. “What am I supposed to do with that, Yoongi? Seriously?”

He opens his mouth to answer this rhetorical question, but you don’t let him. The words pour out of you, unleashed after five years of being held back.

“This is just… unfair. Because normally, in the movies, when you get this moment - the post-mortem - with someone from your past… they always ask why, right? Why’d you leave? But I don’t need to ask why - I know the why, I understood why. I want to know… I want to know if you regret it. If you’d take it back.”

“That’s two different questions,” he says solemnly, “with two different answers.”

You cut your eyes at him. It’s the middle of the night and your brain is mostly mush. You need him to just be forthcoming, just say things plainly.

He knows.

“Of course I regret it,” he whispers finally, as if the words hold too much weight to utter any louder. “I regretted it while I was still saying it. I hated being away from you, I hated not talking to you, I hated not knowing how you were or what you were doing or if you… still cared about me at all.” He pauses, inhales slowly, rubs a hand down his tired face, then exhales with a whoosh. “But would I take it back? I don’t know.”

You exhale, eyeing the ceiling. Who’s the one just saying shit now? God. “You can’t just say things like that, Yoongi,” you tell him, eyes trained on the shitty, popcorn ceiling above you.

He says your name, still so soft, so quiet. 

“What?”

“Don’t cry.”

It’s so stupid. You hadn’t cried then, not in front of him. You wipe hastily under your eyes. “Sorry,” you say hastily, trying to save face. “It’s the lack of sleep.”

“I’m not sure I would take it back,” he repeats carefully, and you realize he hadn’t been done before - you’d interrupted his thought, “because when I left… I knew the whole time that it didn’t make anything better. But if I hadn’t… I think I’d still be wondering if I should, if we’d be better apart. I wouldn’t know, so the question would still be hanging over me.”

You think he’s saying something without saying it, but it’s like four in the morning and you just aren’t sure. 

“But now?” you prod. 

He shrugs, like it’s so simple. “Now I know the answer.”

You want to shake him. You’ve never had a conversation go in circles like this in your life, and you need to get to the center of it. “Yoongi,” you say, your voice tight like a warning. 

He knows.

He always knows. He cuts to the chase. “I have a job lined up in the city.” 

You almost drop your water bottle. “My city?”

“Your city.”

“Yoongi,” you say again, pleading. “Just say what you mean.” Please.

He smiles your favorite of his smiles - only one half of his mouth lifts at first, cocky, until it spreads the rest of the way and shows his gums in all their glory. “Just thinking about that whole list of reasons we shouldn’t be together… null and void now, don’t you think?” 

You feel like you can’t breathe. You’ve both been circling it like predators, and now you’re closing in. 

“So what does that mean? For you?” Do you dare to ask it? You do. “For us?”

Someone else, you think, would probably have asked you, what do you want it to mean?

But it’s Yoongi - and Yoongi knows the answer already. 

He’s pushing the blanket off of his legs - and yours - and coming to hover over you. Your body responds, laying back against the pillow you’d been sleeping on, making room for him like it remembers exactly how you fit. Your fingers find his jaw like they’re magnetically drawn, your thumb sliding against his cheek. 

His hair falls around your faces like a curtain, blocking out the dim lamplight, as his mouth finds yours. 

Kissing him again is everything. It’s absolutely everything. He’s home, he’s wilderness, he’s calm, he’s the whole damn storm, he’s undoing every seam you have, he’s stitching you back together, he’s beautiful beautiful beautiful.

His lips are soft but sure against yours, his jaw moving under the press of your fingers. You feel like you’re flying, falling, maybe both, as your eyelids flutter. He’s bracing himself with his hands on either side of you, holding himself over you. You were resting your free hand against his side, his ribs like piano keys beneath your palm, and you find yourself bunching his shirt into your fist, trying to pull yourself up, closer, closer.

You have to will yourself not to babble against his mouth, I missed you, I missed you, I missed you. You could say it six hundred times and it still wouldn’t get it all out of you. You pour it into the kiss instead, straining up to meet him, beating words away from your mouth as you toy with his bottom lip. 

He drops his lower body carefully, pinning your hips beneath his own, shifting to hold himself up on elbows instead of hands. The weight of him is welcome; something needs to keep you tethered to this planet. 

He licks into your mouth, tongue sliding against yours, and you inhale sharply against his mouth. 

“Yoongi,” you murmur against his lips, and he turns his head to kiss your palm where it’s been resting against his face. There’s something so tender about it that tears spring to your eyes, and you blink them away quickly. 

Then he’s leaning down to capture your mouth again, humming a low, happy note against you. You go for the hem of his shirt, pulling until it gets tangled against his armpits. He sits back on his haunches, helping you pull it over his head and tossing it somewhere behind you. Your eyes trace him, over and over, trying to remember every shade and every line, trying to find every difference from five years ago. He’s beautiful, flushing dark across the chest, eyes positively predatory in their focus on you.

“You, too,” he says, sounding a little breathless, and you scoot back and sit up. He goes for your hem before you can, tugging it up and over your head. The cold air assaults you and you shiver. Yoongi makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl in appreciation, lowering himself over you again. His kiss is insistent this time, one hand coming up to cup a breast, fingers deftly rolling your nipple, sending electricity skittering down your spine. You whine, deep in your throat, and you feel his lips quirk into a smile. 

“Would you kick my ass if I said ‘I’ve missed your tits’ right now?” he asks, chest quaking as he tries to rein in laughter. 

“Yes,” you grumble, reaching to weave your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. You tug him back so you can kiss him again, and he lets out a quiet, breathy moan as you do. 

“Okay,” he says, in between kisses, “but I did.” Then he puts his money where his mouth is - or maybe vice-versa - to prove it, lowering his head and taking the other nipple in his mouth, flicking it lightly with his tongue. Your whole body reacts, feet stretching, back arching to push against his body, fingers tightening in his hair as you moan out loud. Each little motion of his mouth ignites sparks that reach every part of you - the pit of your stomach, the base of your spine, clear down to your toes. 

It’s honestly embarrassing how turned on you get as he continues, working one side until you’re writhing beneath him, thighs rubbing together desperately, then switching to continue his onslaught on the other side. 

“Yoongi,” you gasp, and some absent part of your brain is aware that his name is the only coherent word you’ve said in a while. “Please, you’re torturing me.”

He releases you with a wet pop, grinning up at you deviously. “So pretty when you beg like that,” he remarks, like he’s observing the weather - which is still a fucking blizzard, by the way. Then he’s coming up to kiss you again, deep and slow this time. His hand slides along your bare stomach, around and under your back, and you arch your back partly to make room for his arm underneath you, and partly because you can’t not, as his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

“Please, what?” he murmurs, lips close to your neck, his fingers tracing the edge of the shorts you’re wearing - his shorts. “What do you want?”

“Anything - whatever you’ll give me,” you manage. All you can focus on is his fingers, their circular path along your lower stomach, toying with your waistband. 

It must be the right answer, because he slips his hand into your shorts, fingers pressing along your slit, your underwear clinging to you already. He slides his fingers along the slickened fabric, eyes on your face, listening to the tiny moans that escape when you exhale. 

He shifts to his side, between you and the back of the couch, and you loop an arm around his neck - half to hold yourself up on the couch, and half because you need to be holding him. You can feel how hard he is now, as his body presses against your legs. He distracts you with a kiss, and slips your panties aside, wasting no time in sheathing his middle finger up to the last knuckle.

You hiss his name, your head lolling back against the couch in pleasure, your neck bared to him. He gives it a quick nip and then a kiss as he adds a second finger, pumping in and out of you slowly. You groan, the sound rumbling from your chest. You could let him do this all night if you had the patience - just this simple act feels so good you think you might come undone.

And if you remember anything about sex with Yoongi, he’s just getting started.

He slips his fingers out of you and brings them up to your clit, circling once, then twice, before going back to where he started, the pad of his middle finger circling your entrance, careful to stay just outside. 

Your whole body turns to jelly, everything quivering from head to toe at the sensation. You grip the couch with both hands, digging your fingers in. “Ohhh my god,” you manage, something accusatory in your tone, like you’re asking him how the fuck are you doing that? 

He smiles against you, middle finger still running in lazy circles through the wetness collecting there. “That’s right, I know what you like,” he murmurs, smug, his lips tickling your neck, before plunging both fingers back into your heat without warning. He repeats the cycle - in, out, up, down, around, around, in again - until you’re dizzy from it, your fingers clutching the fabric of the couch so hard that you’re sure you’ll rip it.

You have one single moment of clarity that sends you reaching down to where you can feel him hot and hard against your leg, but he shifts away, tutting.

“You first,” he says. “I want to see you make that face you make. It’s been literal years.”

“Oh my god,” you say, feeling yourself flush. “Yoongi! Seriously?”

He laughs, shoulders shaking. “What? I love to watch you lose your shit. What a fucking ego boost.” He punctuates these words with a quick change of wrist direction, suddenly pistoning against your front wall in a way that has your comeback melting right out of your brain.

He’d had you close before, and the sudden switch-up does the trick - you feel everything tighten from your shoulders to your toes, your eyes screwing shut. Yoongi shifts his weight to hold your leg in place so you can’t try to close them on him and redoubles his efforts, humming in pleasure as you squeeze around his fingers like a vice.

You let out a series of wordless cries as the pleasure builds to the point you want to shy away from it, and then Yoongi presses his thumb to your clit just so and you’re spiraling over the edge, your ears filled with a buzzing white noise, your toes curling, your desperate hands leaving the couch and clutching Yoongi instead, trusting him to guide you to the other side.

When you come down, heart hammering in your chest, you bat his hand away, breaths heaving.

“Take those off,” you pant, tugging on the bit of his pants you can reach, and shimmying your own bottoms the rest of the way off and dumping them onto the floor. 

“Bossy,” Yoongi remarks, smirking sideways at you as he obeys. 

You resituate yourself against the arm of the couch as he comes to kneel near your feet, stroking himself languidly. You both freeze with the same thought at the same time.

“Do I…” he says hesitantly, “do you want me to wear -?”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, mind racing for an answer. You’re tempted to just tell him it’s fine, because surely having a how many people have you been with in the five years since we broke up conversation will absolutely kill the mood right now. But that’s not really safe.

“Maybe you’d better?” you venture. “Have you -? I mean, we don’t need to talk about this right now. But I haven’t been with anyone without… you know.”

“Same here, and I got tested after… the last one. Just in case,” he admits, eyes on yours, and the moment feels heavy. Do you trust Yoongi to tell you the truth?

Of course you do. 

“I’m okay if you’re okay,” you tell him. “No pressure.”

“You’re still on -?” he checks, and you nod.

“In that case,” he says, and leans over you to kiss you again. You can feel him, rubbing along the messy slickness, and it occurs to you that you haven’t even touched him yet. 

You whine, twisting your shoulders to try and reach him with a hand, but he’s too impatient, lining himself up and starting to sink into you. You groan at the stretch - it’s been a while since your last fling - but the sound that tears through Yoongi’s throat is more like a growl, guttural and animalistic.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growls through gritted teeth, as he slowly rocks into you until he bottoms out, his hips tight against yours.

He’s everywhere - caging you in, hovering above you, holding you down, filling you up. He’s everywhere, and he feels both so familiar it makes you want to cry again, and also - somehow - brand-fucking-new, like you’ve never felt him before. 

You can feel every ridge of him, every twitch, as he sets a slow but even pace, letting you adjust. 

“God,” you gasp when he hits a spot just right. His head had been hanging above you, his eyes watching the place where he disappeared inside you, all that long hair loose, but he smirks up at you at this.

“Good,” he coos, and picks up the pace, hips smacking yours, filling the room with the lewd sounds of skin on skin, his grunts and your whines. 

You’re gasping a little at each stroke, that tight feeling bubbling at the pit of your stomach growing stronger with each thrust. “God,” you growl, fingertips pressing into his shoulder blade as you hang on for dear life. “Yoongi, fuck!”

He slows on purpose, straightening up, forcing you to release your hold on his back. He grins at you, that shit-eating, one-sided grin, and then grabs your ankles, maneuvering them both to rest against his right shoulder. He leans forward against your legs and hammers into you, breathing hard, and you swear to god you see stars for a second.

“Ohmygod, yes, there,” you gasp, hands going to the backs of your own thighs to help alleviate the stretch. You need to start doing yoga or something.

The build-up is slower this time, the feeling pulsing through you in waves that strengthen and ebb again. Yoongi can tell when it’s real by the change in your voice - wordless whines rising in pitch, by the arch of your back, by the way you clamp around him so hard that he almost loses it right there.

“Yeah?” he asks, the word more like a gasp for air. “Close?”

“Please,” you beg, the sensation of pure light racing up your legs to your toes, the pulsing starting slow and determined in your core. 

“I’ve got you,” he promises, brows furrowed with concentration as he works to keep a steady pace. He grips one of your ankles and switches it to his other shoulder, creating space to reach down and rub gentle figure-eights around your clit. 

The wave takes you over, and there’s a long moment where you’re completely devoid of your senses - no sight, no sound, nothing but how tight tight tight everything has gone, too tight to even breathe - and then it breaks and you can hear yourself wailing, eyes shut against the onslaught of sensations. You clench around Yoongi hard, the aftershocks rolling through you, so hard that he hisses and drops his forehead to yours, his pace slowing significantly as he fucks you through it.

You go boneless as it leaves you, and Yoongi pushes all the way inside you and stills, pressing his lips to your temple.

“You good?” he murmurs, so sweet for someone who just had you experiencing the multiverse. 

“Mhm,” you manage to respond, so spent and tired that you can barely form the word.

“C’mere,” he grunts, slipping out of you, and he grips the back of your neck, hauling you upright and falling backwards in the same motion, pulling you over top of him. You loop your arms around his neck, feeling floaty, and he wraps his around your middle. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, his breath loud next to your ear.

“Can you keep going?” he checks. “I know you’re tired. I’m almost there, I promise.”

“M’good,” you assure him against his collarbone, and he gives you one quick squeeze before reaching down to adjust himself. He pushes in and you cry out, the sound muffled as you press your face into him. You’re so sensitive now, the sensation is entirely different. 

“You can take it,” he whispers, sliding a hand down your spine. Then, with a grunt of “shit,” he grabs you and jackhammers up into you, his fingers furrowing into the meat of your ass, so tight you think you’ll have five little bruises on each side when this is over.

You feel so close to him - your cheek presses up against his, your arms wrapped tight around him, his hands securing you in place, his heart beating wildly against yours where your chests press together. 

You gasp for breath into the crook of his neck, holding on for dear life, just trying to take what he gives you. You can hear his breathing change as he gets close, his pace quickening but his thrusts starting to come less evenly, his grip on your ass tightening just a bit further as he pulls your hips down to meet his every few thrusts. 

“Is inside okay?” he asks, the words sounding like they’re torn from him. 

“Yes,” you tell him, but it comes out more like a moan.

“God,” he grunts in response to this, and the word tears, ending on a strangled moan as he empties himself deep inside you. 

You lay there, gasping for breath, for a long minute. Then Yoongi gives you an affectionate pat on the ass, indicating that it’s safe to move.

“Go get in the shower,” he suggests. “I’ll grab you a towel and meet you in there.”

“I don’t know if I can get there,” you say, joking, but your legs feel like jelly. You grab your phone and make your way, wobbly, through the living room and into his bedroom.

You hadn’t come in here before. It’s clean, but sparse. It’s devoid of anything that makes it feel homey. It’s devoid of anything that makes it feel like Yoongi.

You keep going, padding through his room and towards the attached bathroom, fumbling for the lightswitch. You place your phone next to the sink and fiddle with the shower’s knobs until you get a steady stream of hot water going. 

It feels heavenly to step under the hot water, your aching muscles relaxing in the steam. But it feels even better when Yoongi wraps his arms around you from behind, pressing his lips to the side of your neck.

“Hi,” he murmurs. 

“Hi,” you giggle. You might still be riding a little bit of a post-orgasm high.

You both rinse off in silence, and then Yoongi places his hand on the knob, looking at you to make sure you’re ready to get out. You nod, but he hesitates.

“Will you sleep with me?” he asks, a little unsure, leagues different from the cocky man you’d been tangled up with mere minutes before. “Don’t go back to the couch.”

You give him a soft smile, and he turns off the water, reaching for the towels hanging just outside.

“Of course I will,” you tell him before wrapping yourself up in the soft, gray terry-cloth. 

You crawl into his bed once you’re dry, and he joins you after making a quick pass through the living room to turn the lights back off and gather up the clothes you’d both tossed around. When he clicks off his bedside lamp and rolls to face you, you feel a fluttering of nerves in your stomach. 

You’re not sure where you go from here. 

You lay facing each other in the darkness; it’s just too dark to really see much, but you can tell he’s looking at you. 

You’re laying there, letting your thoughts spool around you, the what-if’s and what-now’s laying themselves out in your mind, when you realize you’ve reached out without meaning to, your fingers tangling in his long hair, rolling strands between them. You keep playing with it, cautiously, practically holding your breath, waiting to see if he objects.

Instead, you feel him relax under your hand, letting out a long breath. “That feels nice,” he admits, voice breathy with almost-sleep and barely audible.

You fall asleep without any answers, with your fingers curled up in Yoongi’s hair. 

You wake up to a warm body behind you, not quite touching. You shift your cold toes a little closer to the warmth you find, smiling when you hear him whine about it. The light outside is white, that abnormal shade of light that comes from sunlight bouncing off of snow and ice. You’re about to close your eyes again when you realize that the warm body behind you isn’t sleeping, because you can hear the incriminating clicking and clacking of a keyboard.

“Are you seriously working right now?” you ask him, rolling a little to look at him over your shoulder. He peers back at you guiltily, his glasses low on his nose, fingers frozen in the air above the keys. 

“I just wanted to answer a few -”

“It’s Christmas morning!” you scold. 

“I’m aware of that,” he answers dryly.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Turn it off, Yoongi. It’s Christmas and you are in bed with someone. My God.”

He shoots you a defensive look, but finishes whatever he was doing and clicks the laptop closed, leaning over to place it on his nightstand.

“You haven’t changed at all,” you say, a little fondly, sitting up a little next to him.

“Neither have you,” he says pointedly. It’s less fond when he says it. 

You consider this. “You want to know something stupid?” you ask. Yoongi doesn’t answer out loud, just meets your eyes and waits. “You’re right. I haven’t changed. I think… I think I’ve been afraid to.”

He turns to face you, sensing how serious you are about this. “What do you mean?” he presses. 

You stop to think, the way you learned to after spending years watching him, knowing he did this better than you. “I guess… some little part of me always wondered what would happen if we crossed paths again. If I changed too much… what if I stopped being someone you’d want? What if I became someone so different that your heart didn’t know mine anymore?” 

It sounds so corny coming out of your mouth, but the truth behind it is so heavy you can’t hold it up anymore. It was a fear you’d secretly harbored for half a decade - what if fate put Yoongi in your life again, and he still didn’t want you? 

And Yoongi does what he’s always done - hears you, understands you, answers you in your own language.

“Impossible,” he says softly, leaning closer to you, eyes combing your face. His voice is like a layer of snow, smooth and clear, full of something unnamable. Or maybe you don’t want to name it. You turn your head, as if that will get you further away. “That’s impossible. My heart will always know yours.”

You look at your hands, feeling a little choked up. Your heart stutters and jumps in your chest. The question you’re holding back churns in a little ball behind your ribs. 

“Hey,” he says, softly but intently. You manage to look up at him. “Let’s make breakfast?” He says it like a question.

“Yeah,” you say, able to speak again. “That sounds good.”

Yoongi lends you sweatpants, since it’s too chilly to roam around the house in basketball shorts, and busies himself in the kitchen while you get changed. When you finally join him, he’s plated something for each of you, and he pushes a glass of iced coffee towards you.

You can’t help but smile. “You remember,” you accuse, and he avoids your eyes, cheeks flushing. 

“You get a girl ninety-thousand iced coffees, it stays with you,” he defends.

“Ninety-thousand,” you scoff, but you’re pleased. As you eat, you look out the kitchen window. It’s bright outside, but it’s still snowing - tiny, wispy flakes floating leisurely down to join you. The road clearly hasn’t been plowed yet; the snow outside is untouched, unbothered, a perfect sheet of white. You can’t even tell where the road is, except for the mailbox poking up out of the feet of snow on the ground already.

Yoongi follows your gaze. “Looks like you’re trapped here for a while,” he observes. 

“A shame,” you deadpan, and he kicks at you playfully beneath the table.

“Well,” he says, thinking out loud, “since you won’t let me get any work done… do you want to put on a movie?”

“A Christmas movie?” you ask, perking up. 

He rolls his eyes, but he’s fighting a little smile. “I guess that’d make sense,” he agrees. 

He leads you back to the couch, which you eye sideways, remembering clearly what this couch witnessed about three hours ago. Yoongi seems unphased, slouching sideways against some pillows and looking at you expectantly. You join him gingerly, leaning against him, and he drapes a blanket over your legs.

“Pick something,” he asks, passing you the remote - another old Yoongi trick that you remember well.

You take the offered remote, clicking through the holiday options for something that you don’t think will make Yoongi gag. As you scroll, brows furrowed in concentration, he clears his throat beside you.

“So, uh,” he says, and you stop scrolling, because he sounds nervous. “Next weekend I’m supposed to go look at some apartments. Do you… would you want to keep me company?”

You look at him, eyes wide, the remote forgotten in your hand, still aloft and pointed at the tv. 

“Why?” you whisper once you find your voice. 

He shrugs, wets his lips. “You know the city well,” he says. “You can offer your brilliant opinions - tell me if the neighborhood’s okay… if there’s good take-away… where the transit stops are, that kind of shit.”

“Hm,” you say, a little tightly.

He shoots you a sheepish grin. “I’ll take you to dinner after?”

You give him a look. “Say what you mean, Yoongi.”

He purses his lips a little, disgruntled at being called out. Then, busted, he sighs and tries again. “Can I take you to dinner next weekend? Preferably in the city, and preferably after you help me make some choices about my living situation?”

You grin, unable to hold it back. “Yeah,” you say, trying hard to fight back the smile, to play it even a little bit cool. “Yeah, I’d really like that.” Trying to save your dignity, you turn back to the tv and go back to scrolling until you find a movie that seems like it’s not too over-the-top. 

Yoongi reaches an arm around your shoulders, and this time you settle against him comfortably. You can feel him breathing beneath you, can smell that Yoongi smell - clean and alluring, can hear the shouts of some neighborhood kids running around outside. From the tv, tinkling bells and happy strings play a medley of Christmas songs as the opening credits run. 

Part of you is already thinking about when the roads are plowed and you have to go home, shower off the scent of him, update your best friend about all of this, miss Yoongi in a much more real way than you’ve had to in about three years. But at least you have the promise that you’ll see him again next weekend. You close your eyes, content, happy to just be right now. 

Yoongi feels it too, obviously. He gives your shoulders a squeeze, looks down at you fondly, and murmurs, “You know what? All this holly, jolly shit isn’t so bad.”

“God bless us, every one,” you deadpan. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”

He grins at you, gums showing, and you smile back before leaning your head against his chest as on the TV a little girl watches out her window for signs of Santa.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!! My full masterlist can be found here :)

It was early summer the first time you noticed him. 

You walked into your favorite coffee shop, a complete necessity to be able to function without being grumpy, and noticed him sitting in the corner. Despite the temperature outside, he had a sweater on as he stared intently at his computer, oversized headphones covering his ears. His long, slightly curly black hair fell around his face and he just left it there. There was a barely touched coffee sitting next to his computer, beads of water dripping down the sides. 

It’s not like you made a habit of cataloging everyone in the coffee shop, it was just that you had your routine. It was also a local place so there weren’t new faces all that often. And here this man was, so consumed by whatever he was working on that he didn’t seem to even realize there was a whole world happening around him. Didn’t notice the screaming child who’s mom came in three times a week. Didn’t notice the teenager who came in on FaceTime with someone like it was his own personal space and everyone wanted to hear his conversation. Didn’t hear the two women loudly cackling in one corner. Didn’t hear the person listening to music without headphones like everyone wanted to hear. 

It was kind of impressive, actually. You wondered if the entire world could be on fire and he would continue working on his computer. You were kind of envious, too, because you would give everything to have that kind of focus on anything. 

As soon as you had your coffee, you were out the door. But not without a last look at the new face. Idly, you wondered if you’d see him again.

You did. In fact, he seemed to be just as much a creature of habit as you were. You got used to seeing him there. Always there before you, always working intently on his computer, always ignoring his drink. 

Since he became a part of your routine, even though you never spoke, you did what you did with every other person you came across. You guessed what kind of work he might do, what he liked to do in his free time, what he listened to while he worked. There was a comfort in it. He was always so calm, so undeterred by the flow of people around him. 

Until one day, in the fall, he wasn’t there. His normal table sat empty. You realized that you actually enjoyed this mystery man that you knew nothing about. This man you’d never spoken to had become a part of your days.

“What’s wrong?” 

Your friend Taehyung was with you, another departure from your normal routine, but he’d been complaining about the coffee at his normal place for weeks. So you suggested he try this place. 

“Nothing,” you answered, shaking your head. 

“Where’s that guy you’ve been talking about?” Taehyung asked, looking around curiously. You swatted at him in response.

“Not here,” you said quietly.

Taehyung gave you a knowing look that you hated immediately. “Ah, is that why your face looks like that?” 

“What’s wrong with my face?” You wanted to be offended, but you also knew Taehyung and knew he likely didn’t mean anything by it.

“Just looks like someone kicked your dog, is all,” he shrugged.

“I don’t have a dog,” you responded and he rolled his eyes.

“He must be cute,” Taehyung said.

“He’s just…I’ve never seen anyone with that kind of focus, is all,” you said and approached the counter to order. 

The next time you went back into the coffee shop, headphone computer guy was back at his usual table. It was like nothing had changed. He still didn’t look up, still didn’t break focus, and still didn’t seem like he was drinking his coffee. You smiled, immediately thankful Taehyung wasn’t with you this time.

Taehyung had agreed, the coffee at your place was great, way better than his place. But it was out of his way and he was almost always running late. So you started picking up coffee for the both of you most days. Which was better for you, anyway, because Taehyung would periodically pay for both coffees as a thank you for bringing something drinkable.

The next departure from your routine came after you stopped ordering that extra coffee for Taehyung. He was seeing someone new that had convinced him the best thing to do was make it for himself at home, which had resulted in him spending too much money on something he didn’t really know how to use. Oh well, the things we do for love, right?

You were getting too used to the rest of the routine, too used to being able to look at the stranger that always worked on his laptop. Which is exactly how you noticed the change. You went back to your normal coffee order and he glanced up at you. When he saw you were looking at him, he glanced back down immediately. But you had seen it. Maybe he wasn’t quite so oblivious to his surroundings.

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking and you needed to stop making stories in your own head. He didn’t look up at you the next time you were in or even any of the times the rest of the week. 

And then, about a week later, he actually surprised you. You were taking your card out to pay for the coffee you just ordered when the barista told you that it was covered. 

“What?” Your hand paused in your wallet.

“Yeah, you’re all set,” she said and smiled.

That didn’t exactly clarify anything. “Um, how?”

“Oh, that guy over there on the computer paid for it,” she said and your eyes followed her line of vision despite knowing exactly who she meant.

He wasn’t looking up at you, but you swore you saw the faintest twitch of a smile on his lips. Okay, so that was how this was going to go. You waited by the end of the counter, on the other side of the shop from where he sat. As soon as you had your coffee, you walked over to his table and wondered the whole time if he would even look up.

He did, almost immediately.

“Uh, thanks,” you said, unsure what else you were supposed to say.

“You’re welcome,” he said and smiled.

And it was one of the cutest smiles you’d ever seen, all soft and too big and gummy. Every time you’d seen him before, he looked intense and focused. It was why you never thought he realized what was going on around him. Now, he smiled soft, eyes crinkling as he looked up at you. He pulled his headphones off and closed his laptop.

“Do you want to sit down?”

You did, of course you did. It had been weeks and weeks of made up stories about this man that suddenly paid for your coffee and asked you to sit down. There were a million questions that you wanted to ask. It started with his name, though. Yoongi. Pretty. It almost felt weird after all this time to know his name. And to give him yours in return.

You can’t remember what you talked about that first day, only that you loved to listen to the sound of his voice. Gentle but also deep and gravelly. Animated but also somehow lazy. His voice, like everything else about him, was a study in contrasts that somehow worked perfectly together. 

It was another week of chatting every time you came into the shop (he was always already there at his normal table) before he asked you if you wanted to get dinner sometime. An immediate yes from you. 

And it was probably one of the cutest dates that you had ever been on. In the coffee shop, Yoongi seemed calm and at ease, like he was genuinely comfortable. When you met him for dinner, he seemed nervous. Like he wasn’t sure what he was doing. Which actually made you a lot less nervous. He was beautiful and you felt tongue tied around him more often than not. But now here he was, slightly stumbling over some of his words and not at all at ease. It made you like him a lot more.

You were in trouble.

It was nice because you realized how much you hadn’t learned about him yet even though you felt like you’d known him forever. Although he hadn’t given you a clear answer on his work at the coffee shop, he talked about it freely on that first real date. He wrote music. Everything from songs that he sold to artists to scores for movie soundtracks and everything in between. It seemed like he had worked with some pretty big artists, too. He didn’t think it was a big deal, but you thought it was amazing. You also found out, unsurprisingly given his line of work, that he played several instruments including the piano and the guitar. Piano had been his first love, he talked at length about the piano he had at a studio he worked at when he wasn’t at the coffee shop, and guitar had been something he just picked up while writing songs. Even though he didn’t think he was good, he agreed he’d play for you sometime when you asked. Maybe he wasn’t the only one smiling like an idiot

He also wanted to know everything about you and disagreed when you said it wasn’t nearly as exciting. So you told him about your family, about growing up, about dreams that you still had. Things you usually hesitated to share and would never share on a first date. He interjected to share stories of his own. Easy. It was just easy.

After dinner, he walked you to the door of your building and awkwardly shuffled his feet. Again, like he wasn’t completely sure of himself or what to do. You lingered a second longer and were glad you did when he placed the gentlest kiss on your lips and then told you to have a good night. 

Several more dates went by and you realized that you were actually developing incredibly real feelings for Yoongi faster than you had for anyone else before. It had never been easy like this with anyone else, it had never felt effortless. But everything with Yoongi was as natural as breathing. 

When he asked if you wanted to meet his closest friends, you said yes right away. And the way he smiled said you made the right decision. He offered to cook for you and them, promised he’d rope one of them into helping, and promised all you needed to do was bring a bottle of wine, if you wanted.

You showed up at his apartment right on time, like you always did, but it wasn’t Yoongi that answered the door. Instead, you were greeted by a tall, broad man with almost blond hair. His smile was easy, but in a very different way to Yoongi.

“Hi, you must be the woman we’ve heard so much about,” he said, still smiling and holding the door.

“Well don’t just stand there, Namjoon, invite her in,” called another familiar voice.

“Ah, right, sorry,” he stuttered and stepped aside. 

Your eyes fell on another man, shorter than the one he called Namjoon and slender, but with a smile that could break a thousand hearts. He was on his feet immediately and coming towards you.

“Hi, I’m Hoseok and this is Namjoon,” he said and you relaxed. It was good to put names to faces.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” you said.

“You too! Yoongi hasn’t stopped talking about you in…” Hoseok started before there was a clattering from the kitchen.

“Yah, Hobi, I can hear you,” Yoongi scolded. 

“It’s not like she doesn’t know,” Namjoon added quietly and Yoongi rounded on the taller man.

“Not you too,” Yoongi whined before he turned back to you. “I hope they don’t scare you off.”

And there was a little bit of a truth to it, if his face was anything to go by. But you just smiled and crossed the room to kiss his cheek.

“Not a chance,” you said and held up a bag. “I couldn’t decide what to bring so I brought both.”

“Jin’s gonna be thrilled,” Yoongi said, looking at the bag. “Come on, I’ll introduce you and then leave you to those two.”

“Are they not allowed in the kitchen?” You wondered as you followed Yoongi.

“Hobi is, Joon isn’t,” Yoongi said and didn’t elaborate further. 

As Yoongi said, his friend Seokjin was in the kitchen. He was also strikingly attractive (seriously, what was it with this friend group?), but the most surprising thing was his apron. He also had his hair pushed back off his face as he watched the dishes.

“Ah, you’re here!” Seokjin saw you and greeted you as if you’d known each other for years.

“This is Jin,” Yoongi said, a little unnecessarily but you appreciated it all the same.

“Nice apron,” you commented and earned a loud laugh in response.

“Please don’t,” Yoongi muttered and you weren’t sure who he was talking to.

“I can’t get my dinner clothes dirty while I’m cooking,” Seokjin said.

“We’re staying in,” Yoongi whined and now you realized it hadn’t been you he was talking to.

“And I want to look nice,” he said.

“He brought it with him,” Yoongi told you and Seokjin didn’t look remotely bothered.

Yoongi gave you a peck on the cheek, which earned a joke from Seokjin, and sent you back out to sit with Hoseok and Namjoon. It was probably for the best, though, because if you stayed in the kitchen, you’d want to help and two people were already plenty. It wasn’t that big of a space. 

It was also really nice to get to know Yoongi’s friends, who were just as lovely as you would have guessed. Namjoon, as you discovered, was not allowed in the kitchen because he was a terrible cook. He also was incredibly clumsy. Hoseok was apparently a pretty decent cook, but not as good as Seokjin or Yoongi, which meant that he was keeping Namjoon company as well as keeping him out of trouble. 

You could see that they had all been friends for years, the way they interacted and shared stories. But the best part about meeting them and having dinner was that they all included you in absolutely everything. And aside from a few pokes at Yoongi, who apparently never fell fast like this, they completely accepted you. It might have been silly, but you held your breath until you realized that you passed their test.

After the night had been such a success, you figured your friends were up next. Unsurprisingly, that was just as easy. Taehyung wanted to play the fill-in older brother role for you, but he lasted all of five minutes before he was gushing over how much he loved you two together. He also wanted to tell Yoongi about how you had looked for him every time you came into the coffee shop, which he did after you finished the first bottle of wine. You couldn’t stop him from the embarrassing stories. Which ended up being fine because Yoongi admitted he thought you and Taehyung were dating when you ordered him coffees every time.

Nothing in life was ever this easy for you. No relationship, whether it was a friend or romantic, had ever slotted in this easily. Part of you, the pessimistic side, kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. You were sure that nothing like this lasted for you. But the hopeful part of you wanted to believe that you deserved it.

You weren’t really sure how you had gotten here, it was like one day you were observing this quiet man from afar in a coffee shop and the next, you were getting ready to spend Christmas together. Despite saying that he wasn’t much for the holiday, he had been right there with you in decorating, making sure the lights were up, that there were things up on the wall, that the whole place felt cozy.  And you both had stockings. You had agreed on a limit, yet you had caught him periodically slipping things into your stocking every time he was over. 

“Eggnog is disgusting,” you announced as you sunk onto the couch next to Yoongi.

“Then don’t drink it,” he responded.

“Ridiculous,” you said and he laughed softly at you. “It’s a tradition.”

“We can make new traditions,” Yoongi offered.

“They’re not traditions if they’re new,” you said with a pout.

“They are if we do them every year,” he said and you shot a look at him.

“Still planning to be around next year?” You almost didn’t dare to hope.

Yoongi looked into your eyes, more sure than you had ever seen him. “I’ll be around for as many holidays as you’ll have me.”

It was crazy, the way the butterflies fluttered in your stomach, the way your whole body was on fire. You’d never really believed in love at first sight, still didn’t know if you believed in soulmates, but you also knew that you’d never felt anything like what you felt for Yoongi. When you heard him essentially say that he was also in it for the long haul, your heart was ready to burst. 

“This is crazy, right?” Your voice was small and you couldn’t meet his eyes.

“What?” 

“We’ve only been dating for a couple months and we’re celebrating Christmas together, talking about traditions,” you said to your hands that twisted in your lap.

Yoongi’s long fingers reached out to tilt your chin back up. “It doesn’t feel crazy to me.”

“But we’ve only known each other for such a short time and…” you rambled.

Yoongi shrugged. “Who cares if it’s a short time? Who cares about anyone else’s timeline?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve always just been a little worried about everyone else’s opinions,” you said and sighed.

“My friends love you, yours love me. We’re happy and I know I’m not alone in saying I’ve never felt like this before,” Yoongi said and you smiled at him. “I don’t think anything else matters.”

“You’re right,” you agreed. 

“So come here,” he said and opened his arms for you to settle against him. “Now we just have one thing to decide.”

“What’s that?” You tilted your head to look up at him.

“Our first new tradition,” Yoongi said and you smiled again.

If all you did for the rest of your Christmas Eves was cuddle with Yoongi and complain about eggnog, you would be happy.

But then he heard the broker, Jimin, usher someone new in to the viewing, and just as quickly as his dream sprung up, it was shattered. Because he’d only caught the faintest glimpse of the threadbare brown coat you’d loved so much, and the tell-tale fringe of your scarf that he’d gifted you for your very first anniversary, but Jin knew it was you.

His ex-fiancée. Or was that even the right term when it’d been eight years since you broke up? When Seokjin had spent almost nearly as much time apart from you as he had with you? 

He ducks into one of the bedrooms, out of Jimin’s sight, and sucks in a sharp breath, blinking and shaking his head. Who was he kidding? That coat could belong to anyone, anyone could own that scarf. Not just the former love of his life who as far as he knew, had faded into obscurity after dropping out of law school. Who probably moved halfway across the world just to avoid the sight of him. The person who he’d once shared an entire life with, and now they had nothing left in common.

Seokjin shivers as he stares outside the window, watching the snow fall down, a colourless shroud, and he grits his teeth. The journey home would not be fun.

Hearing shuffling behind him, he turns, thinking it’s Jimin coming to ask him what he thinks, but he’s met with a small gasp.

“Jin,” you whisper softly. “I knew it was you.”

And before Seokjin can react, you’re pulling him into you, tucking your head into his shoulder, and he’s breathing in your faint soapy smell, reminded of the shampoo you used to love so much. The wool of your scarf doesn’t feel as scratchy as he remembers, and he’s comforted by its familiar presence, by your familiar presence in his arms. It’s been too long.

“You moved back,” he mutters into your hair, and immediately you freeze, pulling back, eyes on the floor.

“I found a new job,” you tell him, and as much as Seokjin wants to press, he doesn’t. He doesn’t feel like he has a right to ask, to know about your life not that you’re not together anymore. So instead, he remains silent, taking you in. 

You hadn’t changed much. You looked older, maybe a few more lines on your face, but your eyes were still the same. That smile was still the same, and he knew he had to be careful around it.

“How are we doing in here, oh—”

Jimin takes that moment to walk in, his eyes glinting with questions as he takes in the two of you, so close yet standing apart, and he raises an eyebrow.

“We knew each other,” Seokjin steps in, immediately wanting to diffuse the awkward tension. “She’s my ex-w–”

You look at him, eyes glassy and in shock. He’d been about to say wife. Because you had been, almost. There had only been a few months to the wedding when you’d decided to go, sending Seokjin off over a cup of coffee on a chilly autumn day in the park.

“Well, it sounds like you have a lot to think about,” Jimin chuckles before retreating, and Seokjin knows he’s not just talking about the apartment.

It’s only natural for him to chase you down after you’ve both left, following you into a nearby cafe.

Turning on your heel, you look at the sight of your ex, still as handsome as ever with his wool coat and snow in his hair, and you let out a big sigh. You weren’t going to hate him. You didn’t hate him.

“What do you want?” you blurt out, and Seokjin recoils briefly, in shock at your question before straightening.

“An espresso,” he responds, and you grin.

“You used to be more of a latte man, what happened?” you ask.

“I don’t know, I guess I just got a lot more bitter,” he grunts, and you let out another heavy sigh.

“I know you have questions Jin, and I want to answer them, I really do, but can we just sit here for a bit? And drink our coffee first?”

And so you do, the two of you sipping on the hot drinks, taking each other in for the first time in many years. You know Seokjin isn’t actually upset with you, that it was more the shock speaking for him. He’d barely raised his voice at you when you left, nodding along quietly and watching you go without a word. You made no promises to him, and he didn’t make any to you.

You tried your hardest to keep up with him back then, but law school had sucked the life out of you. While Seokjin had been everyone’s favourite, the star pupil and class president, you were just… there, right next to him. It had been your own guilt and unhappiness that had driven you away, never anything to do with him. But Seokjin was stubborn, persistent that you could stay, that things would work out on their own. 

“There was no other option,” you tell him quietly, and he nods over the cup of coffee, looking out the window, and you so desperately want him to look at you instead. 

“Don’t you get it?” you want to scream at him, but keep your voice level. “I had to drop out, I had to go find my own way, to travel, to figure out what really made me happy?”

“And are you?” Seokjin interrupts. “Happy, I mean?”

You pause, not knowing how to answer him.

“What about you?” you fire back. “You’ve lived in the apartment for years, even before me. What makes you want to move now?”

“I’ve stayed there for too long. It used to feel like home… now it just feels like a rut. One that I can’t get out of, no matter how hard I try. But you wouldn’t understand, would you? You never wanted to stay.”

You square your shoulders, sitting up straight. You couldn’t keep up this conversation. You hadn’t been able to have it eight years ago, and it was far too late for it now. Instead, you needed a place to live, to turn over a new leaf, and it seemed like Seokjin did too. Which brought you to why the two of you were even here together in the first place.

“I want that apartment, Seokjin. I know you want it too, I saw it in your eyes. We both need this. But I can’t afford it. Not on my own.”

“What are you asking?” Seokjin says, his eyes turning dark.

“Kim Seokjin, I’m asking you to be my roommate.”

This was insane, Seokjin thinks as he packs up the last of his kitchen supplies, surrounded by boxes. This has to be the most insane thing he’d ever done.

He’d called Namjoon over a dozen times the past week since he’d met you in the coffee shop, ranting to his brother about the odd proposal you’d given him.

“Is she still the same?” Namjoon echoed over the phone, disdain lacing his voice. He hadn’t been the biggest fan of you leaving his older brother broken hearted. 

“That doesn’t matter, what matters is what I’m supposed to do about this!” Seokjin spits into the line, feeling his face grow hot.

“Easy, just say no,” Namjoon responds. “Exes are bad news, hyung. It’s not worth getting caught up with any of them, no matter how good the relationship used to be.”

Seokjin pauses for a second. Namjoon had made it sound so easy. Just saying no. But what complicated things was the fact that it was you he was saying no to. 

Seokjin knew you left on your own accord. He knew you needed to find a sense of purpose, one that didn’t revolve around just him and law school, and getting married. But that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt. 

When he’d seen you again, he’d imagined, for a brief moment, the years that had been lost between you. The ones you could have spent living together, waking up to each other every day. Burning toast on Sunday morning, putting up Christmas trees every winter, dancing as the snow fell outside. And here you were, offering him a chance to maybe, just maybe get those lost years back. Or whatever shreds of them he could recover.

“You can’t say no, can you?” Namjoon says over the phone, defeat in his voice, and Seokjin realizes he’s been silent for too long. 

“I didn’t fight for her when I should have, Namjoon-ah, I can’t miss that opportunity again.”

The words come back to him as he sits in the kitchen alone. Looking around, he realizes how few boxes he actually had. He thought most of his life had been in this apartment, but the more he thought about it, he realized he was never really attached to the things here. It was more the memories, or lack of them that he had, living here by himself, trying too hard to get over you.

He’d never brought a date home here. Namjoon refused to visit, and Seokjin had just stopped asking, fitting seamlessly into the fabric of the lives of those around him, while never pausing to think about his own. 

A knock at the door breaks him out of his thoughts, and he opens it to find the movers. As he watches them lift up the things, he’s surprised by how light he feels. Maybe letting go wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“You have a big, strong, handsome ex fiancé moving in with you, and you still choose to bring up your own things why?” Nixie, your best friend, groans as she carries up another box, plopping it into your room. 

You’d chosen the smaller of the two, while Seokjin got the bigger one, knowing he put more money towards the rent from his job. 

“Because he’s not my anything, he’s my roommate, and we don’t owe each other anything,” you tell her. 

“Not to burst your bubble ___, but most people don’t exactly end up shacking up with their former fiancé and expect to be just roommates.”

“Well we are,” you brush her off, and she turns to start unloading stuff into the closet. “We have completely different lifestyles. He works at an office, I work from cafes and libraries or at home. He works during the day, I’m most productive at night. We’ll barely run into each other.”

And you hadn’t, so far. Seokjin had moved in quietly when you weren’t there, his stuff magically appearing in the living room one day. You hadn’t seen him around since, but you figured he was probably living with his brother until your contract officially started.

The two of you had decided to give it six weeks, right until the New Year. Six weeks of living together, seeing if you could tolerate each other. If it didn’t work out, Seokjin had graciously agreed to move out, and help you find a new roommate. 

It sounded so foolproof when you thought of it in your head. 

“Okay, I trust that you know what you’re doing,” Nixie says. “After all, we’re not the same as we were eight years ago.”

The two of you chat for a little longer before she has to leave to her own place, and you’re left on your own. A few hours pass, and you’re finally done unpacking most of your room when you hear the jangling of keys, and the door creak open. 

The sound of boots echoes in the hallway, and you know it’s Seokjin. You hide underneath the covers on your mattress, not wanting him to know you’re awake. 

He shuffles around in the kitchen for a little bit, and then it falls silent. Thinking the coast is clear, you tiptoe outside your room, searching for a drink of water, when you see him slumped on the living room floor, his head in his hands.

Your face softens at his serious figure, and you walk over to him, plopping down next to him. He shifts slightly, his eyes widening in surprise at your presence, and you look down to see that you’d never changed out of your bunny printed pyjama shorts.

Clearing your throat, you speak softly, afraid to put him even more on edge.

“I realize that this was maybe unfair of me to ask you for, but you were the only person I could think of that wouldn’t try to accidentally hit on me and then poach the lease right out of my hands.”

Seokjin chuckles at that, turning to look at you.

“You don’t have to worry about me hitting on you, I’m too old for that.”

“We’re the same age.”

“Is this really a good idea, ___? Us?” He asks softly.

You freeze. There was no “us” between the two of you. There hadn’t been for a long time. But maybe there could be. A new version of normal, one where you and Seokjin lived happily together yet apart, content with your lives.

“I don’t know,” you tell him. “All I know is that being here, in this space, I feel happy for the first time in a long time. Like my life is finally falling into place. And I don’t want that feeling to stop, even after the six weeks are over.”

Seokjin freezes next to you, and he knows you’re not talking about him, but he imagines you could be. 

“It’s going to take some time for me to adjust to this,” he says.

“Me too. We’ll try our best. That’s all we can do, right?”

I tried my best, the words ring in Seokjin’s ears. The same ones you told him when you said you were leaving. 

“Right.”

As December settles in, Seokjin thinks he could get used to the idea of living here. The home is so inviting, the crown bricks covered in snow making him think of Santa’s house in all those Christmas movies he’d watched as a kid. Every evening when he’d get inside after work, he would smell coffee, knowing you’d probably just left to the library to continue your work. 

It was quiet, and he was content. Until you stopped him one day in the kitchen, up before he was, shoving a plate full of cheese and crackers towards him.

“I want to get a cat.”

“You don’t have to ask me to get a cat,” he grumbled. “We’re adults.”

“I know, but you’re my roommate and it’s common courtesy. I saw one I’d like to adopt near the end of this week. He’s older, and they said he was super quiet. I’ll keep the litter box in my room.”

And that was how Seokjin also became roommates with Cheese. As much as he tried to ignore the little rascal, Cheese would always curl up next to him at the most random times, purring when Seokjin gave him scratches on the head. 

He adjusted to you and Cheese better than he thought. The two of you were friendly, pausing to chat briefly at random points when you’d bump into each other during the day, oftentimes when one of you was leaving and the other was returning.

Seokjin even shared his wine collection with you, telling you that you could help yourself to any of the expensive bottles. Maybe it was the giving holiday spirit. Maybe it was just you making him soft. 

You’d started waking up earlier, leaving him a little pile of cut up fruit on the counter every morning, the oranges peeled just the way he liked them, which only you’d ever been able to do. 

But it never went beyond that. Seokjin still didn’t know who you were, what you did. And you kept your distance. Sometimes when he’d see you coming back from a trip outside, he resisted the urge to smooth down your frazzled hair after you’d taken your hat and scarf off, but he stopped himself.  He also stopped himself from staring for too long when you’d wear those forsaken bunny printed pyjama shorts, trying not to focus on how good your butt looked. 

It was a silly little crush on his roommate, he brushed it off in his mind. He’d get over it.

It was the week before Christmas, and you were in hustle mode. Your editor wanted you to get the latest piece to him in time for Christmas Day, so you’d been holed up in the library, writing away on your laptop and downing copious amounts of cofffee. 

You’d managed to get through about four pages of writing before the pain in your stomach set in. Grimacing, you brace an arm around your middle, hobbling to the bathroom before the cramps take over, and you stumble, crashing to the floor. You dial Nixie, but it’s late and she doesn’t pick up. Scrolling through your phone, you resign yourself to putting in Seokjin’s number, relieved when he picks up on the first ring even though he should be at work.

“Can you come and get me please?”

Seokjin’s face was as pale as a ghost when he found you lying on the library bathroom’s floor, passed out. You stir as reaches around you, supporting you with one arm as the two of you rise.

“I’m so sorry,” you croak out. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Please stop apologizing,” he says softly. “It’s not your fault.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about you getting sick or something else. His warm arms come around you as he walks the two of you to his car, placing you gently in the passenger seat and turning on the heating so you wouldn’t freeze. The entire ride, his hand remains on your thigh, the burn of his hand on the fabric of your jeans almost as prominent as the nauseating sensations you were experiencing in your stomach. He doesn’t ask, just glances over occasionally when the car stops to see your eyes flutter shut, and the rest of the ride is quiet.

You wake up enough for him to drag you up the stairs, before turning and closing yourself into the bathroom, sobbing under the heat of the shower. Everything ached. From the cramps to your own heart, it all hurt. And the only thing that made it better was Seokjin. But you’d lost him, and now you couldn’t go back to the way things were before. You begin to question why you’d even wanted him to live with you in the first place, knowing that you’d inevitably desire his comforting touch again. He made you feel safe. He made you feel loved, and despite being happy, you hadn’t felt that way in so long. 

When you slip out of the shower in fresh pyjamas, he’s there, sitting on your bed. You don’t get angry with him for letting himself into your room, instead sitting next to him on the bed. He doesn’t ask questions, just drawing your hand into his own.

“You know if you ever need anything, I’m here,” he says into the darkness.

“Can you stay with me?” you ask, pulling him into you until his chest is resting against your back, feeling the rough scratch of his crisp white dress shirt, and in seconds, you’re asleep.

You sleep better than you’ve slept the entire time you’ve been in the apartment. But it makes no difference when you wake up alone, Cheese eyeing you curiously. Seokjin was gone.

“I can’t do this,” Seokjin rubs in between his eyebrows, staring at Namjoon with bloodshot eyes over his brunch. He’d left early, before you could even wake up, his heart turning over and over in his chest at the sight of you seeming so small, so vulnerable, doubled over in pain. He knew it was probably nothing to be worried about, but when it came to you, Seokjin couldn’t help but worry. 

“You still love her,” Namjoon says, and he doesn’t sound disappointed. His voice is even, flat with acceptance.

“Is it crazy of me to think that it just wasn’t the right time? That we both needed to grow up and figure out our lives? I mean, we were barely about to graduate. Of course we didn’t know what the fuck we were doing. No one does at that age.”

“But she left,” Namjoon interjects, his eyes full of concern. “She left, and maybe she did change, hyung. Maybe she’s better for it. But you, you just let her hurt you. You stayed the same, for so many years, going to work every day, making money, never letting anyone else in. And now, all of a sudden, she’s back, and you’re acting all different, being friends with her. My question is why.”

Seokjin wonders the same thing, why he’s able to be so attached to you after so many years apart.. You needed time, you needed space, you needed to feel like your own person. And Seokjin could accept all that. But he always thought he’d done something to drive you away. And then he remembers it’s because never once, in the four hour long conversation where the two of you had said goodbye, had you said it was because you didn’t love him. In fact, you’d said it three times exactly - once at the very beginning, one time in the middle, and right at the end.

He straightens up, and a warm, fizzy feeling runs through his veins. The last thing you had said was “I love you.” And now here you were, eight years later, by his side again. Was it crazy to think it was because you still loved him too?

The dress was green, with glittering sequins in the shape of stars. It was breathtaking. And now it was lying on your bed. 

“Come with me to my work holiday party?” Seokjin had asked earlier in the week, and you don’t know what had possessed you to say yes. You’d softened towards him considerably ever since he’d taken care of you while you were sick, not saying anything when he slipped into your bed in the middle of the night, but not pushing him away either.

You still were afraid to talk about it. Afraid that he wouldn’t forgive you for running away, for putting yourself over the relationship. Even though you knew you weren’t selfish, the mere though of Seokjin ever seeing you as such pained you.

And now here you were, his date to a swanky holiday party. When you’d asked why, he’d laughed it off, saying last minute dates were a hot commodity, and he didn’t want to have to resort to Tinder. A pang of jealousy bubbled up in your chest at the thought of Seokjin with a younger, prettier girl on his arm, and you’d sulkily made up your mind that going with him was best. However, putting on the stunning dress and having the experience of Seokjin nearly stumbling while lacing his dress shoes made you feel a tiny bit better.

You watch the people around you swarm and flock to each other, exchanging hugs and holiday wishes, and painfully miss Seokjin’s presence next to yours, keeping your beating heart calm. As if he sensed your discomfort, he’s there in the next minute, holding out a drink for you. You accept, hoping the alcohol will calm your nerves.

You feel out of place here. This was Seokjin’s wheelhouse, Seokjin’s territory. He’d always been the people pleaser, while you preferred to hang back. 

An older couple comes up to you, and Seokjin straightens up, putting his drink down and greeting the man with a handshake.

“This is my boss, Mr. Nam,” he says, faltering when he turns to introduce you. “And this is ___, she’s my, uh—, we’re, she’s my—”

“Roommate,” you interject quickly.

“Ahhhh so you’re together then?” The woman you assume is Mrs. Nam claps her hands together in delight. 

“No no no!” Seokjin tries to manage the messy misunderstanding. “We live together. As in just one together. Together-ish.”

A smile slips onto your lips when you see his ears redden in frustration, and you give his hand a squeeze. Mr. and Mrs. Nam catch sight of your clasped hands and smilen again, before saying how wonderful it was to meet you and excusing themselves to get some food.

“No need to be nervous,” you tell Seokjin after they’ve left. “It’s just me.”

“Yeah, it’s just you,” Seokjin echoes, and there’s a far away look in his eyes, one you can’t place. “Should we go out to the balcony?”

He leads you along, his hand tucked into the curve of your waist, and you bump into more people, Seokjin recovering and introducing you without the roommate title. It all feels surreal, like a dream you never dared yourself to have, and you reflect on how this could have been the life you had together, if things hadn’t come apart.

When you’re outside, you begin to shiver, and Seokjin eases his coat off, and you dodge it, telling him you’re fine, the two of you dancing awkwardly around each other. After a few moments, you begrudgingly accept the coat, sinking into its warmth and breathing in Seokjin’s clean smell.

“You’ve changed a lot, ___,” he says. “You seem calmer. Happier. You really like writing, don’t you?”

You want to act shocked that he finally figured out what your mystery job was, but you knew he would. Seokjin knew you too well, and there was a point where he’d known you better than you’d know yourself.

“What about you?” you respond. “Big hotshot lawyer, finally fulfilling all those ambitions you had for yourself–”

“For us,” he cuts you off. “I had them for us.”

“And I ruined them, right? By leaving,” you voice shrinks, and you feel tears perk up at the back of your throat. 

“Maybe it was good for me,” he says, looking out onto the city. “Maybe I had to learn how to be myself without you too.”

“Not everything has to be a lesson, Jin,” you tell him. “Not everything has to mean something grand and philosophical. You’re allowed to miss it. To miss us. I miss it too. Sometimes I wake up in my bed, with Cheese, and it doesn’t even feel real that you’re here with me again, right down the hall. How we’re both the same, yet different in so many ways. And it scares me because even though living with you again is like nothing I could have expected, I still love you. More than I should.”

You pause on the last words, your breath coming out in frozen puffs, and watch Seokjin’s eyes flicker with longing. He pauses, before drawing you into him, his finger tips entwining with yours. 

“It’s not like it was before because it’s better,” he whispers against your lips, before he closes the distance in between you two.

Sparks explode across your skin when he kisses you, your hands swinging around his neck, and you feel like a teenager in love again, discovering how good it felt to be held for the first time. You sway from the wash of emotions that come over you, and Seokjin’s hands are there, steadying you as you break apart, rubbing his cheek against yours and pressing tiny kisses all the way from your temple to your hair.

“___, there’s something I have to tell you,” he whispers into your hair, when suddenly, your quiet moment of peace is interrupted by a loud yell. The two of you break apart, cheeks flaming with heat, and you look away, not wanting to seem suspicious after basically lying to everyone the whole evening.

“Seokjin!! Congratulations on the promotion,” one of his coworkers you’d met earlier, Hoseok, runs up to him. “Singapore won’t be ready for you after the New Year hits!”

More and more people join the swarm, clapping Seokjin on the back, and his eyes look to you in panic. 

“This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out,” he mouths to you, but you barely acknowledge it, your eyes filling up with tears.

He never had any plans to stay on as your roommate. He’d wanted to leave the entire time. 

You rush away from the crowd, Seokjin’s coat still wrapped around you as you cry quietly. Just when you thought that things could finally be okay, that you two could move on from the past together, it had to rear its ugly head once more, reminding you that you didn’t belong together for a reason.

A week passed, and Christmas with it. Seokjin had left quietly to spend the holiday with his own family, and your heart ached with hurt because he hadn’t spoken to you since the night of the party. Or more like you hadn’t spoken to him, holing yourself up in your room and cuddling with Cheese underneath the blankets.

Across from you, the present he’d left outside your door lay unwrapped, and you had half a mind to just throw it out the window and be done with him, once and for all.

Sighing, you open up your laptop, deciding that you should put in an application for a new roommate. You type out a general profile of what you’re looking for, before shutting the computer with a sigh and deciding you weren’t mentally ready to handle the thought of moving on yet. Maybe it’d be easier once Seokjin finally left. 

Rising from your bed, you make your way to the kitchen, opening to fridge to find Cheese’s cat food. Grabbing a spoon to scoop it out, you pause when you realize the bowl is full, and that Cheese hadn’t touched anything yet. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen Cheese all day, sleeping for the better part of the day. 

The door was locked, so he had to be here somewhere. You walk around everywhere, even peeking into Seokjin’s room and calling his name, but to no avail. Standing in the hallway, you feel a cold breeze and gasp. The window had been open. What if Cheese had escaped?

Panicking, you throw on your coat, tears burning in your eyes as you slip on your scarf and shoes. You’d already lost Seokjin, you couldn’t lose the one other person who was holding you together right now. 

You stumble out into the night, shivering when you realiize that there’s a thick blanket of snow outside, deep enough to cover a tiny cat. You slip and slide down the steps, calling out Cheese’s name and running up and down the city streets, the snow coming down heavier.

After half an hour, you decide to give up, voice hoarse from screaming. You make up your mind to put up a missing pet flyer for Cheese immediately. Now that was a task you could focus on.

Trudging up back your street, you come to a pause outside your building, gasping in shock when you see that the front steps’ light is on, and Seokjin is sitting there, a shivering Cheese in his hands.

You immediately run up to him, grabbing Cheese and clutching him to your chest while tears run down your face.

“I found him wandering outside,” Seokjin says, reminding you that he’s still there, and you take a step back from him.

“Thanks for finding him,” you tell him. “I mean it.”

And you turn, cuddling Cheese in your arms, ready to escape to your bedroom once more, when Seokjin’s arm shoots out, grabbing onto yours and spinning you around.

“Please can we talk?” his eyes are desparate as they bore into yours.

“We have nothing to talk about,” you tell him coolly. “I’ve already made arrangements to find another roommate.”

“I rejected the promotion,” he says hastily, and you freeze. “It shouldn’t have taken me this long. I accepted it before we moved in together, and I just thought I could put it off until…”

“Until what? You broke my heart just as bad as I broke yours?” you hiss, feeling guilty at the way his face falls.

“Until I realized how much I don’t want to move out.”

He reaches out, scratching Cheese in between his ears, and the image is so domestic it makes your heart hurt.

“What if we aren’t meant to be together?” you tell him meekly. “What if there was a reason we didn’t work out the first time? What makes now any different?”

“It’s different because even after all this time, I still want to stay here,” Seokjin says, cupping your cold cheeks in his palms. “I still want to be here with you, even after all this time.”

“Are you saying this as my roomate?” you try to lighten the mood, but your heart is doing backflips in your chest.

“I’m saying this as someone who loves you, and who hopes that you believe in taking chances,” he ghosts his thumb over your cheek.

“I took a chance on you, right?” you whisper back, smiling at his gentle touch. “And look where that ended up.”

“Where did it end up?” he teases you in his low voice, and you shiver.

“With you kissing me on New Year’s Eve,” you tell him, and Seokjin pulls you towards him, his fingers running through your hair and tugging at your scarf before he’s kissing you again. 

You remain like that for an infinite number of moments, savoring each other, accepting each other after so long, that you don’t hear the fireworks go off, Cheese shifting uncomfortably in your arms.

“Let’s head inside,” Seokjin presses a kiss to your cheek. “The little guy must be getting cold.”

You step aside, beckoning Seokjin in before you, and he grabs your arm with a grin.

“Lead the way, roomie.”

Because despite Yeontan’s effort and putting his reputation on the line, Taehyung still has not made any move on you. The human would take him from you after the session, make small meaningless talk, leave the salon; then, once at home, he would rue to the dog, regretting not asking more about your day, complimenting your choice of music or the cute dog sweater you always have on. Yeontan would just huff and roll his eyes.

So today, as he lies on the soft little pad on your work-station, while you dry and brush his hair, Yeontan decides he has to do something major- BIG- to make sure his human does not miss his chances, again. The thing is, as much as Yeontan is tired of listening to Taehyung’s whines about you, he really likes you too, maybe even more than his human does. You have the best scent in the whole world, and the nicest smelling shampoos that satisfy his senses just so. And your fingers? Oh, don’t get him started- they are so soft and deft that he always purrs whenever you massage him. He wants those fingers on him all the time, not just once a month for just an hour. All the more Yeontan has to succeed today- no more lost time because his human is being an idiot. 

“Almost done?” A gruff voice from your assistant, the feline-looking human, snaps Yeontan out of his thoughts.

“Almost,” you confirm. “Is Taehyung-ssi here yet?”

Your assistant scoffs. “Don’t worry, you look good.”

“Shut up, Yoongi! I’m just asking!”

Yoongi snickers. “Then there’s no need to get so testy! Control the blushing though, your ears are so red. Your crush is showing.” 

Yeontan’s ears perk up. Oh, this is interesting. 

“Can you just go clean up? We have no more appointments for the day.” You instruct Yoongi, then you bend down to look Yeontan in the eye. “Don’t tell your daddy that, okay? My ego can’t take being rejected by someone so handsome.”

“I bet he likes being called ‘daddy’ too!” Yoongi pipes in.

“Shut up, Yoongi!”

Yeontan purrs in satisfaction. Excellent, this will be a lot easier than Yeontan has expected. 

Yeontan smells his human arriving and immediately sits up. You have put a Christmas ribbon on his collar, and he feels confident of his plan. When the bell on the salon door jingles, he watches you patting your cheeks and taking a deep breath. 

“Hello, Taehyung-ssi! Your son is all ready for Christmas!” You lead Yeontan out towards the reception area. Yeontan can sense your nervousness, so he yips, telling you not to be because he’s got this. 

“Hello, _______-ssi! Ah, Yeontan-ah, look how cute you are!” Yeontan yips and spins in circles, showing off your work. The two humans laugh at his antics, and you pass the leash to Taehyung. 

“He looks so handsome, as always after you do your magic on him.” Yeontan wants to scoff at his human’s lame line, but notices your ears getting redder, so perhaps that actually works for you. “Oh, this is for you, just a little Christmas and thank you gift for, uh, you.”

Taehyung takes out a small black box from his bag and passes it to you. You splutter as you receive it. “Oh, you really shouldn’t have, Taehyung-ssi!”

“Yeontan really likes coming here, and you’re a really great dog groomer, so I just- well, we- want to thank you for everything.”

You thank him again and at his urging, opens the box. 

“It’s from the Pink Hamster cafe in my neighbourhood. I really like their chocolates, so I thought, you might like them too. I’m not sure if you’ve had them before though, but you know, it’s really good, and the owners are friends of mine, and I like supporting local businesses, so yeah,” Taehyung takes a deep breath. “I hope you like it.”

Yeontan turns to watch you. You bow a couple of times, thanking his human, and Yeontan yips a few times, encouraging him to say more. But Taehyung just inhales deeply and makes preparations to leave. “Let’s go, Tan-ah, let’s go home.”

Oh no, not yet. Yeontan still has a lot to do.

Before Taehyung can move, Yeontan uses all his might to surge forward, yanking his human forward closer to you. You yelp at the sudden movement and raise your hands up to catch Taehyung’s body, in the process dropping the box of chocolate to the floor. Yeontan almost gets distracted by the smell of the chocolate, but he catches himself in time and continues to run around Taehyung and you, his leash looping around both your legs, trapping you together.  

Once he feels the leash getting tight, he stops and admires his work. You and Taehyung are pressed chest to chest, trying not to hold onto each other, even though both are losing balance by the way your feet are tied together with his leash. Satisfied, Yeontan wriggles out of his collar, his head easily popping out. With his newfound freedom, he saunters over to sniff at the fallen chocolates. 

All this while, both humans have been rendered speechless, but you and Taehyung start shouting at him to stay away from the chocolates. The noise brings out the feline-human, who only laughs gleefully upon finding the scene before him.

“Yoongi, help! We got tangled! And the chocolate! Get Yeontan away from the chocolates!”

Yoongi, still chuckling, picks up the chocolates from the floor and puts them back in the box. “Lucky these are individually wrapped, otherwise they’ll go to waste,” he mutters. When he meets Yeontan’s eyes, he whispers conspiratorially. “Did you do all this, Tan-ah? You cheeky dog.”

Yeontan yips at him, telling him to pick up the chocolates and go away. To his surprise, the human winks, seeming to understand his grand plan. 

“Chocolate will be safe here,” Yoongi places the box on a high shelf, then smiles at the two tangled humans, before going back inside.

“Yoongi! Yoongi!” You shriek, calling him back to no avail.

“Oh my god, _______-ssi, I’m so sorry,” Taehyung apologizes, “I don’t know what on earth gets into Yeontan!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you place your hands on Taehyung’s shoulders. “Let’s just untangle ourselves. Can you wiggle your feet a bit?”

Taehyung tries to do what you suggest, but with little result. “It’s quite tight, I don’t have enough room. Wait, let me try to reach for the end of the leash.” He bends down, but because of the position he is stuck in with you, you end up losing your balance again and almost topple over. He catches you in time, however, and with his hands on your sides,  helps you to straighten yourself.

“Well, that doesn’t quite work either.” He sighs.

“Yoongi!” You scream again for your assistant. 

Yeontan continues to watch you and Taehyung, pleased with himself. 

“Do you think we can shuffle to that seat there? Maybe one of us can sit down and it’ll be easier to take this thing off.” Taehyung proposes.

“Yes, good idea!” You exclaim. “But, uh, we have to hold on so we don’t fall.”

“Ah, yes of course. I guess you can just put your hands around me? I mean, my shoulders! My shoulders, put your hands there.” Taehyung clears his throat. “And uh, is it okay if I hold you here?”

You nod and Taehyung grips the sides of your arms.

“Okay, ready?” “Yup. On three we start shuffling together.” You affirm.

“Okay. One, two, three!”

Yeontan takes a step back as the two humans start wriggling around. It reminds him a little of a caterpillar he found once in the park. 

You suddenly stop, however, when Yoongi is back in the reception area, with his jacket and bag… and a bowl of dog food?

“Yoongi? You’re leaving?”

“Yes. Have fun with,” Yoongi waves his hands, “whatever it is you’re doing.”

“No, Yoongi, please, you have to help us!” You plead.

Your assistant chuckles and places the bowl of food near Yeontan. “Good boy. Enjoy dinner and entertainment.”

“Yoongi!”

“So,” the man simply puts on his beanie and buttons up his jacket, ready for the wintry weather outside. “in case she forgets to mention- for whatever reason- she and our friends are having a get together here on Christmas day. Bring a plate or a bottle if you’d like. We’ll eat, get drunk and watch Muppet Christmas Carol. Oh, and definitely bring Yeontan too. There’ll be lots of other dogs he can play with.”

“Yoongi!” You hiss at him.

“Okay, then, have fun you two!”

Yeontan is too busy enjoying his food when the feline-human leaves, but he does not miss the gummy smile and two thumbs up he gives you from the window.

“Oh my god,” you groan, “he could’ve at least helped!”

“Don’t worry, ______-ssi, we’re almost there!”

Yeontan perks up at his human’s voice. There is more confidence in it, so Yeontan yips at him in approval. 

You laugh and rest your head on Taehyung’s shoulder. “This is so funny.” Your body starts to shake as you laugh more loudly. He starts laughing too, and without saying anymore words, you both continue to shuffle towards the seat.

Finally you reach your destination, and Taehyung volunteers to sit down so he can untangle the mess his dog has caused.

Yeontan observes you looking away and biting your lip when his human reaches down to your bound feet. The position is awkward considering your close proximity, and Taehyung’s face is so close to your outer thighs. He stares at Yeontan as he unwraps the leash.

You should be thanking me, Yeontan mumbles. His human narrows his eyes at him.

Your feet free at last, you take a step back to give space for Taehyung to straighten up.

“Maybe I should get a shorter leash?” 

You cover your face as you laugh. “That’s a good idea.”

You both stand awkwardly facing each other, and Yeontan promises himself to nip his human’s foot if he stays silent for another second.

“Um, can we buy you dinner,” Taehyung glances at his dog, “to make up for what happened?”

Yeontan yips and spins in circles. Bravo, human!

You look taken aback by Taehyung’s request, and you look at Yeontan as well. The dog stops spinning and trots over to you. He stands on his hind legs, while he paws at your leg. 

Say yes! He’s really fun, you will like him a lot!

You smile at his antics. “Okay,” you agree. “Just give me a few minutes to close up?”

Taehyung nods and watches you fondly as you go back inside. Then he picks up Yeontan’s collar to put it back on him.

“You,” he squeezes Yeontan’s face in his hands, “you are something, Tan-ah.”

Yeontan licks his nose. Taehyung ruffles his hair and places a kiss on his head.

“Thanks for the push, son.”

Ta da! Hope you enjoyed reading this, Jo! Happy Holidays!

Like this fic? Please reblog if you do! Published on 21122022, crossposted to my AO3

They probably were. If the humans had a spy here, you wouldn't doubt that the vampires and werewolves also had a spy in the delegate. Hell, you wouldn't be shocked if all four diplomats were. They were sneaky like that. They wanted to gain power over humans. They longed for times before humans protected themselves with interspecies treaties. You shivered at the thought of a time without laws and organizations helping protect humans from the werewolves and vampires… or any of the other, now extinct, creatures that had harmed humans much more. There was a reason they were gone and most of it wasn't because of the world warming up. Thankfully, those horrors were gone and you only had to keep your guard against those present. They’d want the treaties to be rewritten, to give them more land and resources and that’d be a slippery slope to them once again lording over humans and causing harm.  Humans might even go extinct. 

Following behind everyone, you kept in mind the different opening arches that invited people to other parts of the castle. There must have been four other halls that one could explore along this straight path. Where it led to? You'd assumed it led to the large dining space that your boss, Chaewon, had talked about in the debriefing. You knew that if you were to memorize the layout of this place, you’d need to explore them soon. There was something you needed to find in these halls and it likely wouldn’t be in the main hall. The dining space was likely the throne room that had been converted and filled with a large circular table that’d hold all twelve diplomats and more. The circular table did mean that there wasn’t an easy place to position yourself with fewer places to keep an eye on. If there were three of these tables sized down, you would have been back in high school with the dingy tables with mysterious sticky surfaces and bad food. This was a castle though so the food better be good.

Everyone sat in the first seat that they could grab and you found yourself having to make the longest trek of them all to the seat furthest from the door. How dreary. It felt like everyone had their eyes on you, sizing you up for the first time. If they were, they would be trying to discern what you may do to help or hinder the delegate. Something you weren't sure about either. Despite the tension, you tried to plaster a small smile on your face and walk in a relaxed manner. You worked hard to ignore how ungracefully and unbalanced you walked (like a newborn bird learning to walk) or how your clothes doing nothing to hide your jerky movements. For this mission to work, you needed them to not have much of any opinion of you. The less they thought of you, the better. It shouldn't be too hard to coast by in a group of twelve. That was a big group.

“How was the trip for you all?” You asked once you sat down, looking around the room and taking the time to size up everyone. 

“Decent.” A gruff person with a scraggly beard grunted, adjusting in their seat constantly as if they would rather be anywhere but here, “I wish I was able to see outside of the carriage.” 

A soft melodious laugh followed, the owner a small but handsome person, their face returning to one that was sharp and intimidating after the laugh, “Understandable. I wish that too. I got horribly motion sick. Asked Taehyung-ah to knock me out-”

“Which I refused.” Another person interjected, their hands up as if to signal they were unarmed.

“Tragically. I spent the whole trip sick. Hopefully they are able to neutralize the smell inside the carriages.”  

“Oh no! I am sorry. I got motion sick when I was human.” A person (or vampire) with shaggy black hair and a neat mossy brown outfit spoke, patting the motion sick person on the back, “How are you feeling now? Did the fresh air and little walk help?” 

The motion sick person nodded. 

“I am Hoseok, by the way! Use he, him, his pronouns. I am a vampire and come from the south peninsula.” 

Creatures still lived on the south peninsula? You’d always thought that it was a barren wasteland after those living there turned on each other. Maybe there was some program to help repopulate it? With how much vampires were pushing to have more autonomy under the current treaties, you wouldn’t be surprised. 

Despite this new information, no one in the room was reacting. Nor did you. Instead, you nodded and looked around the room, making eye contact with a fem presenting person across the table from you. They had long black hair, a soft, plump face, and was smiling at you. You smiled back. 

“I’m Jimin. He, him. A human from right outside of Elding, near the South Eldmond forests.” The motion sick man said, smiling once again. You knew nothing about those near the South Eldmond forests. They were often farmer folk but had a strong education program (as with every city, town, and community that humans lived in). It made sense that the delegate had someone from the South Eldmond forests. 

“I am Taehyung… if not clear when Jimin-ah said he asked me to knock him out. I use he, him pronouns.” 

You laughed and nodded, “I’m Y/n. They, them. My trip was…” It was spent trying to place turns to the map Chaewon had you memorize but no one here needed to know that, “Uneventful. I am glad I brought books to read while here. Made a good dent in them.”

“Oh! What books?” Someone with big round glasses and soft brown hair perked up, their mossy green sweater shifting as they moved, “I am Namjoon by the way! I use he, him, his pronouns. But honestly any pronouns work. I don’t care.”

“Ah. It’s an Aradat textbook of mine. I am trying to learn how to speak with the tree guardians… I see so much deforestation in my area. It breaks my heart. I figured if I can talk with the guardians some, I’ll be able to better help the trees.” You looked down as you spoke, rubbing your cuticles as you spoke. Chaewon had given you a look when she’d found out about your hobby and although she didn’t say more, it felt like she had judged you for your want. Talking about your language interest now felt somewhat childish… most humans never met tree guardians afterall. There was even question about if they were still alive. 

“Oh! I know Aradat too!” Namjoon almost shouted, his smile almost as wide as his eyes, “I’ve been studying it since I was ten and I love it so much. It’s such a beautiful language! I am sure we can spend some time in the library here and find some books to read together.”

If he was in his wolf form, they’d be wagging their tail. Honestly, if you had a wolf form, you’d probably be wagging your tail excitedly as well (as long as you didn’t think of the implications of being alone with a werewolf… this castle had protections for humans… right?).

“I’d love to!” 

A soft and excited laugh broke you and Namjoon’s excited focus, “Your all’s excitement is so cute!” The fem presenting person was speaking, “Your excitement makes me want to try to learn Aradat! Oh! I am Minji by the way! She, her, hers pronouns.”

“Try learning it, Minji-ssi! It is such a fun language to learn and I am finding it somewhat easy to pick up.” You said, “I am happy to lend my textbooks as well if you wanted.” 

“Maybe. I have a lot of work to do for my work back home though so I may not have time.” She shrugged, her expression dampened and worry lines growing on her face. Her frown made her look much older, like her work had worn her down and taken life away from her (something you related to).

“Were you not able to get off of work? The vampirism community made it so that if you were accepted for an interspecies delegation, you wouldn’t have to work your other job. They’re even paying us for this.” The person was small but had defined shoulders which were frequently brushed by his shoulder-length black hair. It was one in a half do… a manbun… and maybe it was the manbun or the fact that he didn’t have to do extra work when you knew the human community didn’t offer the same grace, but his words felt patronizing. 

“Ahhh. That’s nice. Sadly capitalism runs the human societies.” Jimin said with a sigh, “I have to log into my computer for a few hours a day and do a bunch of paperwork daily. It won’t interfere with my diplomatic duties, though! I promise!”

Taehyung and you nodded. 

The person with a manbun scoffed, “Humans were always so attached to capitalism. Overly attached if you ask me.” You bristled at that. Sure capitalism had its downsides… but humans being attached? Vampires were the ones who brought capitalism to humans! They lorded over us before we set up our treaties! Besides, it was the only way for us to survive. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to do much… What did this vampire know anyways?

“Potentially this delegate will help to lessen that attachment.” Hoseok said with a hum, “Oh! Hyung! Don’t forget to introduce yourself!” 

“Min Yoongi. I am… 400 or so years old. I lost track after 200 so I might be older. Um… I use he, him or they, them pronouns.”

By then, the food came out and while conversation could’ve continued, no one seemed to want to eat. You lost all want to eat when you saw the large, glass cups full of thick red blood that the vampires were drinking. They had large smiles on their faces as they sipped away and you could've sworn Yoongi even laughed when Minji looked away. Yet you forced food into your stomach anyways. Couldn’t they have chosen an opaque glass to hold the blood? So that people didn’t have to see the blood? 

Once dinner was over, you followed Taehyung, Jimin, and Minji with heavy feet to the human quarters. It was a drab small space in the back of the castle with two doors that led off to two bedrooms with two matching, uncomfortable twin beds. There was only one shared bathroom... for all four of you. The common space had enough room for a table and chairs, a couch, and a lit fireplace and the bedrooms only had two wardrobes, the two beds, and a shared bedside table. You’d need to find another place to meet with Chaewon and to get alone time, but this would do for the bare necessities. With that in mind, you found yourself retiring early to bed, your mind too full of new information and sloshing blood to stay up with the other humans.

“Ugh. Vampires are always so prideful. Sounds to me like they might pose a challenge during this delegate. Keep your distance.” Chaewon scoffed and though you couldn’t see her, you could imagine the disgust twisting on her face. She was the most squeamish person you’ve met. If she’d been here, she’d have passed out at the sight. 

“I will try. Don’t want to get close to any of the others here. I want to find the talisman and get out.” You said, adjusting in the closet that you’d managed to find in an unused part of the castle. Sure, you’d be sneezing up a storm after all the dust you’ve sifted through, but at least it was a private place to be and hide your supplies. 

She hummed, “I believe in you. Keep me in the loop.” 

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you. 

“And Y/n-ah?”

“Yes?”

“Stay safe.”

Once again, you found yourself nodding as Chaewon closed the connection. You packed the small stone she used in your go-bag, setting everything into the bag with great care and caution before checking to make sure the map, water, and food were all still there. Once you were able to verify that, you hid it under some of the many half broken buckets and mops that the closet had. Straining your ears, you listened to see if you heard anything that could hint at someone nearby. When you didn’t, you quickly left the closet and raced to the window across from it to look out, your breath fogging it up. Maybe you didn’t have super good hearing or eyesight like werewolves or vampires but you knew how to act like you were exploring the castle. 

“What are you doing over here?” Someone’s rough voice interrupted you, making you jump. Yoongi.

“You scared me!” You said, looking him over as you tried to calm your fast heart. He was in casual clothes and seemed to be looking you over as well. Frustration and anxiety grew in the pit of your stomach like a vine grows on the gound, slow and only hinting at a potential problem down the road.

“What are you doing over here?” He asked again, coming closer. You could almost see his fangs poke out from his mouth even when he wasn’t talking, his lips twisted into a scowl.

“I am exploring. Want to see what different parts of the castle have to offer. Isn’t this view pretty?” You asked, hoping he’d look out (even if you’d so happened to choose a window with one of the least pretty views, looking out at the brick wall of another part of the castle). 

“I don’t see the beauty. Explain it to me.” You bristled at his demand. Damn vampires were characteristically demanding. Now you had to somehow explain to him the beauty of a brick wall with the start of a growing ivy infestation. 

Taking a deep breath in, you looked down, “You see the ivy?” 

“Duh.” 

You scoffed, “Humor me please.”

“I am.” A small smile grew on his face at that and you wanted to smack it off. Why was he being such a smart Alec?! 

“Sure. Well this plant only bears fruit when it’s climbing. It only matures when it’s climbing. It is only invasive when it climbs.” You were rambling, rushing to try to find something in this ivy that you could claim is pretty. Something in the bricks that were pretty. Damn Yoongi.

“That’s going to affect the structural integrity of the building. Someone should tell the grounds keeper.” 

You shrugged, floundering as you tried to think of what to say, “Maybe. I kind of think it is poetic. This ivy is native to the wooded areas I can see near here. The trees and bushes that used to live here probably had a blanket of the ivy at their feet. They lived in harmony… and here’s a big castle-”

“It’s quite small actually. For castles.” Yoongi corrected, and you bristled at his laugh. 

“Ok. Here’s a *small* castle that was made by removing a bunch of native stuff and put nonnative plants in the gardens and remove all natural diversity… But the native plants are still here. They’re even trying to take back the land that was taken from them.” You finally felt like you’d reached a place that could describe the beauty of this… at least to an extent and hopefully Yoongi would accept the answer, “It’s quite beautiful.” 

Yoongi hummed and nodded, “Yeah. I see. Sort of like how the proposed new treaty has beauty to it. It will help return some natural order.” 

You froze. He was taking this example of buildings and twisting it to fit this idea that vampires and werewolves deserved more than what humans had given? They were dangerous! They hurt people. This treaty was going to harm people and here he was trying to claim that native plants reclaiming what was their space was similar? You wanted to try to debate him but one look and you knew he wouldn’t listen. There was a cocky glimmer in his eyes and as he raised his eyebrows at you, you knew he was hoping for you to react. 

Forcing a smile, you nodded, “Sure. Now, if you excuse me, I am going to explore more of the castle.” 

Yoongi shrugged, “I’ll join you.” 

You wanted to say no and ask to be alone but once again, you felt like he was wanting a challenge and you needed to be on your best behavior. Conflict between humans, vampires, and werewolves wouldn’t serve your mission. It’d only hinder you at getting more information and finding the talisman. Instead you smiled and nodded, trying to keep your distance from Yoongi. The further away you were from him the better.

He was suspecting you too much, challenging you too much, angering you too much. 

Somehow, you managed to make it to lunch with him following you around like a plague, making snide comments here and there and wholly grating you. You guessed that it made sense for a vampire to be good at getting under your skin but that didn’t make you like it any less.

Lunch was a simple congee with a steamed sweet potato. Despite it being so simple, you found yourself excitedly eating it, taking extra care to relish in it as you eyed the vampires who seemed to be forced to sit and watch as the werewolves and humans ate. You didn’t know if they were frustrated or annoyed at having to sit in with them but you liked to think so. Yoongi at the very least rolled his eyes a few times at a few of your groans of enjoyment and that made your day all the better. The more annoyed he was at you, the more he’d leave you alone (hopefully). 

“You seem to like the congee!” Minji exclaims with a laugh.

“Yeah! It is quite good. Reminds me of my mom’s cooking.” That was a lie. A bold faced lie but how else were you to explain your interest in such simple congee.

“Oh? Interesting! I think I only had congee when I was sick or food stores were low.” Jimin said with a hum and Minji nodded. 

“That must’ve been nice. My family did-doesn’t have much. Rice was cheap enough that we could eat it frequently and be full enough to study and work in the fields.” You said, looking down at the few spoonfuls of congee left. This wasn’t a lie. Often a simple congee or some simple panchans were all you were able to eat, the food filling you up for a while but always leaving you wholly unsatisfied. This job was your way out of poverty in many ways. You could send your remaining family a bit of money monthly and work hard to start climbing up the social ladder. This job, though what you wanted to do to help educate and protect your loved ones, was also hard. You had to edit books that talked about the previous wars (often a tiring and emotional task), you had to help distribute the books to schools and libraries in need (often a demanding task), and you needed to help brainstorm new ways to protect humans from the growing threat of vampires and werewolves (often a mentally draining task).

“Were there not people who could help your family?” A wide eyed werewolf, Jungkook, asked, their fork frozen halfway to their mouth, rare steak dangling from it dangerously. 

“The whole village didn’t have much. Everyone tried to help out others but with little to share, no one could help us.”

“I feel like the government should’ve helped!” Jisoo, a werewolf that had been quiet up to that point said with a start, almost dropping his steak on the table in shock.

“The government does. It isn’t always enough.” Taehyung shrugged with a deep sigh, “I’ve been trying to work on improving it with my job back home but there is only so much one can do with all the managerial tape in place.” 

Jisoo scoffed, “Ok. Sounds fake.” 

You looked at Taehyung, who was worrying his lip as he looked around the room and shrugged with him. Hopefully he knew not to take a hotheaded wolf’s thought to heart. They had different lives and thoughts on how the world should function. It led to conflicts frequently. Taehyung was doing his best to help out where possible. 

“Well. I am done.” She said as she got up and leaned closer to you and whispered, “Y/n-ssi, would you want to explore the gardens with me?” 

You looked down at the leftover congee in your bowl, shoving it in your mouth with an excited nod. The gardens was something you’d (intentionally) not explored with Yoongi earlier today and the thought of exploring them with Minji excited you, despite the cold of a snowless winter.

As it turned out, your excitement was well placed. She was thoughtful with her comments on the garden's looks, giving you a different lens than the native plants that were true to the general region. 

“So… I am assuming you grew up in Naranaan?” She asked, looking at you with a thoughtful expression.

“Near it. What about you?”

“Elding” She said, looking around at the bushes. Elding was a richer area than your hometown, often relishing in the many lavish foods and materials places had to offer. You’d moved near them now but was always shocked at how much more Elding had to offer.

“Did you always want to be a diplomat?” You eventually asked.

She shrugged, “It’s been chosen for me for a while. I come from a well off family and they’ve always expected me to do something big. Working to reduce conflict between the big three? That’s something big. It’s something I might be able to do or at least help with. What about you?” 

“I wanted to be a social worker. That’s what I went to school for. This is all so… so different. Even the work I do back in the city… it’s different. It’s less personal. I don’t see the people I am trying to help.” 

“That sounds isolating.” 

“Sometimes it is. I notice it most during the winter. It snowed back home but it’s been years since I’ve gone home so I barely even remember snow anymore.” 

“Years? How come?”

You shrugged, “I… I don’t have the luxury of not working.” 

She sighed, “When we return from this delegation, I will treat you to a trip to the Uncald Mountains. You’ll see snow again. Mark my words.”

You laughed and shook your head, “I can’t accept!” 

“You can! And you will! Just you wait. I will tire you out from saying no.” She said with a smile, her eyes holding a warmth that reminded you of a sibling’s care. 

You leaned into her warm shoulder and looked out, for once, imagining you had an older sister who would take care of you like Minji was offering to. Closing your eyes, you sighed and basked in her warmth, imaging a life where you didn’t have to fight for everything you had, where you had someone to lean on rather than going out without direction or support. Chaewon was the closest you’d ever gotten to someone supporting you but she was nothing more than a mentor and boss. Even with the barrier of worker-boss relationships separating you from ever completely leaning on her like you might an older sibling or parent, she was the closest you’d had of that and you admired her greatly. Like you, she seemed to have a rough upbringing, working tooth and nail to get her position and help her family. She also had such a strong direction in life. She took risks and did what needed to be done to help her community. She did so much and you wanted to be like her.

She was so far from you right now- the furthest she’s been since you joined the organization- and you felt somewhat lost. There was no information she could give to help you, most she could do is advise you but even that felt empty. Once again, you were alone and while you knew you had to find the talisman, you had no idea what else you could do to help protect your community. You didn’t delude yourself with the idea that you dragging your heels into the mud and trying to undermine vampire, werewolf, and human relationships would do anything but isolate you and raise suspicions but you had no idea what else you could do. You were at a loss and it scared you. It brought you back to when you were fighting for your life to get through undergraduate school, each meal precious, each job a struggle, and each night a questionable rest. 

“Do you think this will go well?” You asked, not wanting to look at Minji while she thought.

“I do. This will help ease the tension between the big three. A delegation and a small joint Yule celebration will be quite good! I don’t know if it will lead to any direct change right away but it will be the start of a lot of different delegations.” She laughed somewhat bitterly, “Given… I’ve been told I am optimistic to a fault. I want us all to be able to live in harmony and that has to start with communication.”

“Well, if you’re optimistic to a fault, I will try to be too. My life has been fairly sheltered from vampires and werewolves but I’ll try to get to know them and help.” Uncertainty was lapping at your feet, growing around them like juvenile ivy, but you wanted to follow Minji in that moment. You wanted to believe that all would work out if you were polite and kind… besides, it wouldn’t do you anything not to so you might as well try to be friendly. 

She hummed, “It helps that so many of our other delegates are so good looking.”

You chuckled at that, your mind flashing the many good looking people here: Seokjin, Jungkook, Hoseok, Yoon- *not him*, Minji, “You’re definitely up there, Minji-ssi.” 

A laugh rose up from her, floating into the night, “I’m honored you think so. You’re on the list too.” 

You looked up at her, eyes wide and warmth rising on you, “Why thank you.” 

The two of you settled into a soft silence after that, the night sky growing more and more, stars coming out of hiding and showing off to you. There were so many more stars here, something you imagined Minji and many of the others from around cities were shocked by. So much light pollution made it hard to see stars in cities and unless one was from a small town or camping, they rarely saw stars anymore. It made sense to you that there were stars way out in the yawning gap between the Uncald mountains and the Ardt woods, but of course, no one else knew where they were or why so many stars would be present. Breathing in the fresh air, you curled in on yourself, falling into some sort of meditative state as you listened to the many animals chattering away. Many of them seemed to be distant relatives of animals you knew in your area, finches and jays all with similar but slightly different calls, bugs and lizards that all sang songs of kinship to those native to your area. 

Maybe one day, you’d sneak off or go with someone to try to observe the wildlife more, for now, you’d stick to looking out at the garden and past it to the woods that seemed to hug this side of the (small) castle. 

At some point, Minji groaned and got up, quiet good nights leaving her as she hobbled inside. A part of you wanted to join her, to go back into the castle and call it a night, but the small town person part of you kept you in your place with a vice-like grip. The woods were calling to you, inviting you to explore and see the wonders that lay within them. As a kid, your mom would tell you stories of magical creatures like willow-o-the-wisps, brownies, gumihos, goblins, and many other creatures of the past. Of course it was all outlandish- many of those creatures have gone extinct (hunted out of existence by werewolves and vampires), but it was fun to think of, fun to wonder what might be waiting for you out in the woods. 

You looked back up the castle, looking through the windows at the illuminated worlds of the inside. Someone was exercising on the third floor where a gym might be, someone was reading in the library on the first floor (maybe you should go there soon), and someone was looking out at you from the window next to the door. 

What?

You did a double take and now no one was there.

You got up, your limbs protesting as you did, and called out to see if anyone would answer. No one did. When you opened the door to reenter the inside world, no one was there… had you imagined it? It wouldn’t be the first time you’d imagined something… like that all-too-real dream about a secret basement in the company full of labs and tests.

But it wouldn’t be impossible for you to have actually seen someone. Vampires had superhuman strength and speed afterall. Maybe they thought that they were sneaker than they actually were. Was it Yoongi? You bristled at the thought. If it was, he was getting too suspicious of you. Dude needed to back up. He needed to stop focusing on you. He could be dangerous. 

“Morning” the whole place opens up for him as if entranced, the melodious tone of his voice laced with the royal sentiment of the green tone in his robes, Jimin had an aura to him that made him as enticing as lethal as he was– that, you would know– being top tier in class ever since he joined Hogwarts, raised inside a pureblood family, the man was on top of his game as a Dark Arts specialist as soon as he turned 20, now, three years later, he remains as Slytherin’s favourite prefect down the line, continuing his legacy up to the college division. 

Winter at Hogwarts had always proved to be on the lonely side as most students got to go home once finals were out, some of them– mostly college peers– were seen around the dormitories up until Christmas Eve when they would leave to celebrate outside the campus. You never really were one to pass the holidays outside of campus, rather preferring to enjoy the quiet and calmness that the school was able to provide during the season, even more so after your family had moved overseas and made it just a tad bit more difficult for you to visit them and be back on time for the new semester.  

“Promise to call if you change your mind?” your friend says as you stand by the entrance with her, it had just started to snow that morning, painting the campus white, fairy lights decorating its entirety. 

You roll your eyes at your friend’s concern laced in her words– the thought of leaving you behind during this time seemed unfathomable to her “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it”

“I’ll leave a space for you on the table!”

She’s mostly down the street, drowned out by the snow around you as you yell out a faint “Tell your mother I say hi!”

Christmas Eve remains by far the most eerily quiet day on-site– except for the ghostly party that can be heard coming from the walls– it has been years into it, enough for the kitchen to have you a special meal prepared even as the staff has left for the day, which never fails to put a smile to your face. 

The heat is blaring inside the library, opposite to the starched white floor-length mirrors that peek to the gardens outside, even in the almost pitch black sky, fire crackling as background noise as you opt to facetime your mother. 

“I was really hoping to see you this year-round, Y/N” there’s understanding in her voice even if her eyes get a bit glassy as she lets her facade slip when she lifts your little brother up to her hip. You really can’t blame the sentiment of hers as you watch the background from her side, your whole family gathered up, smiles on their faces as they get ready for dinner; out of the corner of your eye, you don’t fail to catch the empty seat that has been reserved for you at the table. Your brother starts to stir impatiently and your mother sparks a laugh, trying to keep it lighthearted for your sake  “Especially this little guy, he’s soon to be all grown up and sent off to school!” 

There’s a distinct sparkle in the kid’s eyes as he peers through the screen, grabby hands and all, babbling out barely a word that has your heart skipping a beat “Mimi! Mimi!” 

Your mind instantly begins racing as your mother opts to try and change the subject– even if the mere syllable had already brought back the memories of last Christmas, a trip home with your family and the person who you had thought would be by your side for just a little longer. It was hard enough to explain to your parents that you were dating Park Jimin in the first place back when you were in high school, almost freshly dispatched to Hogwarts – a sweethearts for life type of love story, or so was the word that got around as the two of you grew stronger up to college– it was even harder to explain how seven years after, it had all ended. The news never got around to the youngest in the family– not that he would even grasp the idea of what a breakup was supposed to be. 

You were different to Park Jimin in more ways than anyone could count, it was surprising how you couldn’t see the impending downfall right from the beginning. There was just something supreme and ulterior that had always seemed to move Jimin forward, opinionated and charismatic, always in the spotlight, a star that shone brightly on his own, while you remained as the moon that was set to orbit around him, a shared spark of his that pushed you into an unwelcomed limelight as his determination to keep moving forward increased. 

“Well, you can’t just expect me to decline!”

“You’ve had your taste of fame, Park, this would be your third year as prefect, assisting head of house, teaching assistant, student council president” “Am I missing any other title? When will you actually have time to own up to the title of being my fiancé? Huh? Or is that also getting relegated for another year?”

“We are not kids anymore Y/N, those titles actually mean something to me, to my family’s legacy”

You scruff out a harsh laugh “So us getting married like we planned is not as important? Is it got nothing to do with your ‘family legacy’? I call bullshit Jimin”

“You’re just jealous about everything I’ve been able to achieve while you still get your head wrapped up in fairytales of a better world, feeding yourself lies of getting to change the way that the world works around here, Y/N” you can almost physically feel your heart breaking at his words, the insecurities of it all suffocating you as you think back to all those times he had seemingly encouraged you towards what he considered an unattainable dream, even as his face now remains stoic as ever “For all of ours sakes I hope you fucking prove me wrong Y/N, on your own”

Your mother’s voice bring you back to the present as she keeps her eyes locked on her screen “I thought you said the campus was empty”

“It is” your mother points her finger to your back at the same time as a little mop of hair appears on the screen again screaming delightfully.

“Hey buddy! Happy holidays Mrs. Y/N!” 

“Same to you Jimin, I’ll uh- better catch up with your father Y/N! Love you!

The screen was off before you even got a chance to consider your surroundings, stuck with letting the silence seep through for whatever reason Jimin had stayed back for the holidays and on top of it decided to approach you so abruptly. Words weren’t really needed after knowing each other for so long, even after the two of you fell from grace, which is no surprise when he materialises a gift box from thin air, red ribbon perked on top of the golden wrap around it. Your hands are shaking as you take the present from him, a smile on his lips, along with a faint blush that you can’t really tell if it’s from the heated room or not. 

Your voice is small even if you expected it not to be, the memories and the feelings all rushing back “I never got around to buying you anything”

“Y/N I’m not gifting you something expecting something in return, that’s- that’s not how it works”

“Well yes but-”

“We broke up at the beginning of the year, I don’t expect you to consider me in your Christmas presents list, I just happened to see this and it made me think of you” his eyes never stop following your hand’s movements as you unwrap the present, there’s a spark in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in so long as he sees your smile as you lock your eyes with his, fingers tracing the cover of one of the rarest books he used to always call fairytales– almost impossible to recover, you aren’t even sure you want to know exactly how he did it in order to place the first magical-mundane peace treaty manifesto in your very own hands.

“Thank you”

The light in the room seems to dim, the fire crackling louder, you even become aware of how close the two of you had made yourselves sit in the heat of the moment, knees touching, his eyes shyly glancing at your lips as a million possibilities run through your head– you can’t really be surprised at the magnetic pull he still holds over you as your breath fans over his mouth, a shy and tender moment of vulnerability in between  “Why did we ever grow apart, Jimin?”

You glare at your invitation on the coffee table and sigh. Even after you moved out of town (and far from your parents’ grasp), your mother found her way to get you to come to her event. Just as you are about to throw away the gold ornamented card, your phone rings and surprise! it’s your mother. 

“Hello, darling! I sent out your invitation yesterday in express mail. Have you received it ?” 

Of course, she would be only interested in her stupid event. 

“Yes, mother. It’s in my hands right now”, you stop yourself from sighing, wanting to avoid your mother’s reprimands.

“Oh, perfect! Your father and I went to the store to select some dresses for you. You should go try them on by tomorrow if you want to have your dress on time!” 

Did I forget to mention the winter gala is also a ball? Well, now you know… 

“Well, about that, Mother. I wanted to tell you…”

“Oh, you can bring your companion too! What was his name again? Jake? Please bring him I remember him being such a lovely boy!” 

“Not until I found him sleeping with another girl…” You mumble before saying louder “Mother, Jake and I went our separate ways a year ago. ” 

There’s a short silence before your mom answers.

“Shame, well, you better come accompanied or you will embarrass of this family. Again. Excuse me, darling, but your Grandfather is calling me again. I shall go. We expect to see you at the gala so do not disappoint us,” she instructs before hanging up

"I'm gonna need a miracle to go” You furrow your brows and brush a hand through your hair. It is infuriating how your mother never pays attention to anything you say or do. You were the fifth child, your siblings were four talented and successful children and your parents never gave you much attention or love. They would ask as much from you as they did with your siblings but never look at you the same even when you excelled in some things.

Kind of like the ugly duckling. 

With resignation, you grab the invitation again. Your mother’s call was just a reminder of how required your presence there is even though no one cares about you unless it involves asking whether or not one of your brothers is still single (they do that). 

“Well, what do you plan on doing?” Your brother asks and, judging by your deadly glare, he also deducts the answer by himself.

“Come on Y/n, you can’t avoid another family event, especially this one.” 

You nib at your straw, taking a sip of your green smoothie -something your friends never understood your liking for (I mean, who in their right mind would be having a kale-based drink when fruits existed?)

“I don’t know Namjoon. I don’t want to face mom and dad after my job application was rejected last month” You almost cry at the thought. Your parents almost seemed proud when you told them you were on the waitlist for a big finance company in Seoul. You don’t even want to imagine their disappointment after hearing the news and you don’t want to hear about it.

“Well, sure. But you can’t keep avoiding us. I was on the phone with grandpa this morning. He told me he would love to see you again. You know, he’s much older now and this year will be his first year alone without grandma. He told me you remind him so much of her. Please, if you won’t come for us, at least come for him” He pleads 

The thought of your grandfather feeling alone and the look on your brother’s face only grows your guilt. You think again about the white and gold invitation still on your kitchen table (right next to the trash can, yes) and then look at your brother. 

You sigh: “Well if you come to help me get a dress, we only have one problem now: I need a date” 

To that, your brother smiles, making his adorable dimple pop off and his eyes turn crescent moon. 

That makes one Miracle

“Excuse me…?” A voice speaks from behind you. It was the waitress, back with Namjoon’s drink and your cake “Here is the rest of your order” She places everything on the table and, by the look in her eyes, you feel the question coming. 

“Sorry to bother you, sir…” There it comes.  You see her play with the hem of her apron “But I was wondering if you would be open to going out with me some days?” 

Oh boy, poor girl

You can’t stop the smile that grows on your face. One thing you enjoy most about your family is seeing your brothers struggle to decline strangers asking them for a date. Namjoon is the funniest because he gets so shy when this happens; the boy can’t say no.

You’re about to answer for him when he clears his throat and offers the young lady a reassuring smile “Um, well. I am quite busy right now and we are mere strangers now. But maybe in a few coffees, I will reconsider your offer” 

Oh? He pulled it off quite well this time. The waitress’s face crumbles and she leaves with a bitter expression, not knowing how to deal with Namjoon’s answer. Too bad because this one looked sweet and like the type of person your family would approve of. You exchange a look with your brother and start laughing before deciding it’d be better to quietly finish your drinks if you don’t want to get interrupted by more bold women again. 

“Don't you think this dress makes me look fat?” You look at yourself in a huge mirror trying to see everything wrong with you and the dress. 

Your three brothers, who surely have a better sense of fashion than you do, came to help you pick up a dress (some by choice, others because of your parents’ orders) and can’t hide the annoyance on their faces when you come out of the changing rooms asking the same question. Namjoon takes his eyes off his book to look at you with a stern face. You can see that he is annoyed to hear you talk down about yourself (and so are your other brothers).

Seokjin stands up and positions himself behind you, looking into your eyes in the mirror. “I think…” he puts his hands on your shoulders “that it’s been fifty minutes since we’ve been here and you still haven’t found a dress you like. You look perfect in each of them though”

“It's true” Taehyung adds “I don’t see anything wrong with any of the dresses, or with you. But I will have to agree that the puffy sleeves on this dress look horrendous and way too middle age for you” 

You hear the shop owner gasp and a little smile appears on your face. 

“How many more dresses do I have to try on?” You ask her with the hope that your pains are almost over. She looks at the tray where all the dresses you were supposed to try are and sigh. “Well, I think only one remains from your parents’ selection…” your shoulders fall and look desperately to Seokjin in the mirror.

“But wait! I remember that your grandfather ordered me to make a dress for you last month. I was asked to send it to you this morning. Still, when I received the call from your mother yesterday saying you’ll come to try on some dresses, I figured it’d be better to give it to you in person”

A smile forms on your face and you look at Namjoon like a kid on Christmas Day. He winks at you

“If you’d like to go to your changing room, I’ll bring it to you immedia” 

The gown you see is no ordinary thing. Your eyes become teary with the memory this dress brings you, for it is the same dress that was worn by the princess in your favourite fairytale. Your grandmother would read it to you when you were a child and you’d always tell her how much you loved the blue sparkly dress the princess wore. You are quick to put it on and come out to show it to everyone. 

“It’s perfect!” 

That Makes Two

It’s almost been a week since you accepted to go to your family winter gala and after you got your gown and your brothers’ help with how you should do your hair and which guests you should avoid, you still needed a date to come with you. It is not specified where it is requested to have a date in the invitation but it is kind of the unspoken rule of the event: who would want to come to a gala unaccompanied?

As the host’s daughter, you are not to come alone. It would bring shame to your family and your mother’s daily messages reminding you how important it is for her that everything goes according to plan is only a reminder of how perfect you are not. 

You sigh and scroll down your contact list, hoping to find someone suitable for the event. To your great dismay, every potential date is either busy, taken or unwilling. After hours of trying to convince your old roommate (who still owes you for the time you saved his butt in an embarrassing public situation you don’t miss to remind him), you are out of ideas 

“Come onnnnnn Chan, are you sure? I could use your help right now…” You pout. The hesitation is visible on his face but you can see how he brushes a hand through his hair and clenches his jaw so that he won’t give in.

"I already told you, Y/n. I can’t. I need to fly back to Canberra to visit my mom for Christmas. I can’t cancel three days before. She would be so heartbroken. I’m already halfway packed… Sorry”

You almost want to cry to try and convince him but you know it is no use. “You know my parents will kill me if I come alone, right? How am I supposed to survive a ball without a partner? I’d do fine on my own during the dinner but dancing on my own?? I don't even want to think about it.” You take a sip of water.

“I know I know” Chan tries reassuring you “Hey! I might have an idea! Do you remember my friend Hoseok who went to Washington to do business a few years ago? ” 

You remember the tall and lean brown-haired guy whom you met a few times when Chan had some friends over at the beginning of your flat-sharing days. You picture his sparkly golden brown eyes and perfect smile that made your heart go crazy back in the day. It didn’t long to crush him hard, even though the only conversation you managed to hold with him was to ask him if he was okay after he spilt his drink on you.

“Barely…why do you ask ?” You lie.

As soon as you ask the question, you get an idea of what your old roommate is thinking. 

“Well, I’ve heard that he would be back in town this week and probably be on his own during the holidays…” he offer suggestively.

“What did you say his name was again?” You ask as you open your computer.

A few seconds of research later, you manage to find his social media profile but don’t find much information about him, just the already-made conclusion that he looks hot as hell.

“So, what do you think?” Chan asks and when you say that you would be open to meeting him, he promises to do his best to set up a meeting with him as soon as he is back in town 

That’s your Third Miracle.

It has been one week since the last time you talked to Chan and you only have three days before the event. Your mother called again this morning to make sure that you would come and to remind you again how important it is that you fit into the family and that you look great and play nice all night long. Such pressure for such a stupid thing. Helping children in need during the holiday season sure is important but does she have to be on your back like that? 

“It’s not because I messed up once that I should be treated any differently than any of her other children,” you huff angrily as you pack a bag to bring to your parents’ place. You still remember that day even though it has been years since it happened. You were still living at the manor with everyone back then and your life was somewhat not a mess. Your mom made you wear an excessively tight dress with lots of tulles and tied your hair in a bun so tight you wonder how she didn’t rip your scalp apart. Then she introduced you to every young man your age that attended the party until she found one who seemed to pique your interest and left you there. That man, whom your mother deemed very well educated and of good composition, turned out to be a complete ass who kept talking down to you. Well, until you threw your champagne cup at him and insulted his whole family tree and ran out (but not without walking on your dress and falling flat on the wooden floor).

Your parents barely managed to keep their business with the boy's parents and you were sent to a boarding school overseas for two years (holidays included). Lord knows those were some of the best two years of your life. You remind yourself of all the good memories you made in England and how you met your boyfriend- now ex- but your phone ringing in the background snatches you out of those moments 

You groan, “What again” 

The number on the screen doesn’t ring a bell so you answer carefully.

“Hello?” Maybe this is the call you’ve been waiting for.

The person on the other end seems as hesitant as you are “ Hello? Kim Y/n? I'm Jung Hoseok. Remember me? I think one of our friends set us up? For an event ?” Your heart skips a beat, his voice is even more sensual than you remembered. 

Fourth miracle ♪

“Oh! Yes, Hoseok! Hello!! It’s nice to finally hear from you! I’m surprised Chan managed to convince you. How are you ?” You try to stay polite despite the more than odd situation

Hoseok clears his throat “Um… I’m- good, thanks. Listen, this is super weird, would you like to meet up? So we can talk more properly?” His tone is hesitant but hopeful (somehow??)

You chuckle, not expecting the offer but agreeing.

“I’m still at my place but I know a nice cafe downtown. It’s very quiet so we can talk without being disturbed. I’ll send you the address and meet you there in… let’s say half an hour alright?” You try to sound as confident as possible despite the furious beats of your heart. 

“Okay, see you there!” He hangs up and you let out a breath you haven't even realized you were holding. 

You send a message to Chan thanking him for the help, then scold him for not telling you he talked to Hoseok and then freaking out because you have a date in thirty minutes with a stranger you’re supposed to introduce to your parents as your date in three days. 

You know you can’t do dates. The fact hits you even harder when you enter the cafe and see him. You suddenly feel way too overdressed for this even though you’re only wearing a plain black dress you still took fifteen minutes to choose. Hoseok is sitting at a table in the back corner of the room, a cup of coffee in his hand and a computer opened on his right. You walk up to him and greet him. “Hello again. It’s nice to see you again.” He stands up and shakes the hand you stretch out. “The pleasure’s all mine. How long has it been? Five years? More?” He says with a smile that makes his eyes disappear and dimples appear at the side of his mouth. “Long enough” Your eyes meet and you suddenly feel very overwhelmed by his presence. It reminds you of how it made you feel: he smells good, looks good and something in the way his eyes sparkle makes your heart weep.

You clear and break the contact before sitting. After a waitress comes to take your order, you and Hoseok start talking, about everything and anything, getting to know each other a little, catching up and you realize that you two have surprisingly good chemistry.

“Well, for example, you ordered black coffee before I arrived. No milk or sugar. So I can say that you’re someone who likes to be efficient in every possible way. You like things to be done precisely in your work but also want to keep things simple there, which might be a reason for your success. You’re wearing a high-end sweater in a very trendy outfit and colour-matched your briefcase to your shoes, which tells me you’re also a very organized person. I didn’t do much research on you, just enough to know what you do for a living and how popular you are with the opposite sex, but based on what I see now I can guess many things about your personality” You conclude your little analysis with a smile and take a sip of your latte, living Hoseok speechless. 

Finally, he laughs “Wow, I have never been analyzed this way. Especially on a first date. That’s impressive! Did you study psychology ?”

Your heart skips a beat upon hearing the word date but you don’t let it show. “I was a bookworm as a teenager and my parents have a huge library where I spent most of my childhood. I think I have read dozens of psychology books. It helped me a lot in my college years and then in my work” You smile at him, avoiding mentioning that you read psychology books because you tried to understand why you felt so blue all the time as a child and also why your parents were so mean to you. 

“What would your coffee order say about you?” Hoseok asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

You smile mischievously.

“Well, I’ll try not to be too biased but I ordered a latte so I’d say that I am a people pleaser with a tendency to overextend myself and neglect my needs if I can help someone. I’m probably very generous and helpful but also very sweet and imaginative. I asked for extra foam on top, which could suggest I’m still a child at heart, or that I didn’t have a proper childhood with loving parents and all. I also wanted an extra shot of expresso inside, so maybe I lack sleep or I want my life to be bolder and more adventurous. I think that’s it” You smile at him.

After a brief silence, Hoseok speaks. “I’m sorry that your childhood wasn’t that great.” Hoseok puts his hand on top of yours. It might be a bit inappropriate for a first date with someone you barely know but, for some reason, everything feels right with him. "Chan mentioned it briefly when I had him on the phone the other day after he asked me to be your date for the family event. Life wasn’t hard for me either when I was a child, you know”

You grab his hand

“It’s okay, Hoseok. I’m doing fine now. I have my own place and everything far from my parents but I just have to come to their parties now and then.” You sigh “I still don’t know how Chan managed to convince you though. He can barely convince his mother to make him some dumplings” You laugh.

“I owed him a great deal. He let me crash at his place for almost a year after I broke up with my girlfriend when I was in uni. I was living in her apartment and the dorms were full. Since my parents were too far from the campus and I couldn’t find any apartments or frat to live in, Chan welcomed me in. If not for his help, I wouldn’t be where I am now” 

Your eyes grow big. Chan never mentioned it, which is quite surprising because he told you his entire life up to his first memory. 

“He never told me” Hoseok shrugs “Well, let’s not beat around the bush anymore! My family is organizing a big gala in three days. It’s an unspoken rule to come accompanied because the dinner turns into a ball when midnight hits. That’s cliché, right? Since my family is the host and my mother is a pain in the ass, I need a partner and you might be able to help me”  You raise a brow .

“If you’re willing to do this with me I promise to make it worth your while. There are a lot of influential people coming so I’m sure that you will be able to find some to do business with. It’s a win-win situation! I have a partner to dance with so my family won’t be on my back for at least a few months and you will leave the party with contacts for work. So, what do you say?”  You look at him with what you hope to be the best hopeful look you have, and his quick answer surprises you.

“I'm in!” 

Another Miracle ♪

He winks at you and you feel your heart giving up on you. “YES! I mean- great! I guess we just have to make up the story of how we met before I introduce you to my family, then”  

You try to remain calm because you don’t want to scare Hoseok off, but you’re screaming with joy interiorly. Or crying in panic. Who knows.

After about an hour of talking with Hoseok, you go back to your place with a very big smile on your face, very happy that you finally have someone to go with at the gala (and who might make the night a little bit more fun).

You and Hoseok message each other all night, exchanging information about your life and family. He tells you he is the owner of an emerging finance firm in the country, and that he has a house on the outskirts of Seoul where he lives when he isn’t working overseas. Hoseok has an older sister who got married last summer and a grey cat who’s probably in his house waiting for him to return. 

12 pm | Hoseok: He’s probably chasing mice and eating bugs, though so don’t worry about him starving or anything Y/n

His message makes you laugh.

Hoseok turns out to be a very funny guy who has a strong personality and thrives for the success he says he is slowly getting. You notice he never really talks about work and tries to be as vague as possible if he does and you’re very thankful for that because it’s a sensitive subject for you. Especially because your parents have put so much pressure on you to be the best in everything while never giving you any credit for your work when you were still living with them that you avoid talking about any work-related thing you do by fear of being a failure to the eyes of others. Plus, it adds to the mystery around him, making him a whole lot more attractive.

You’re very happy to see that you and Hoseok have a lot in common and you don’t know whether it’s because of the time or the fact that you can still smell his perfume but you react way too intensely to each of his messages and the blush of your face when he says that you look cuter than he thought makes you wonder how long can it take you to catch feelings for someone.

No, it can’t be. You are not catching feelings for your ‘one-night stand’. You tell yourself that you’re too romantic and that the foreign feeling in your stomach is just the excitement linked with the current situation, right?

Hoseok arrived to pick you up at your apartment a little less than an hour ago. But he only found you in a mess of sparkly blue tulle and high heels, a glass of champagne in your hand and tears rolling down your cheeks. 

“I can’t do this, Hoseok. I’m sorry”

For someone introverted, you sure were telling a lot of personal things to this somewhat stranger-turned-friend. You tell him about how your mother called again, already blaming you for the bottle of wine your brother broke and every other little dumb thing that went wrong. You rant about how much she hates everything you do despite trying your best to satisfy her expectations. 

The whole time, Hoseok just listens, an arm around your shoulder and a hand wiping your tears. It should be weird for you to let a stranger become this close to you this quickly and anyone would tell you to be careful because he is still someone you barely know but everything feels right with Hoseok and you feel like you can trust him completely. You may be wrong but, for now, you just want to enjoy what is happening. 

When you manage to calm down, Hoseok tells you some fun facts about himself to cheer you up and then asks if you’re ready to go. You look at your reflection in the bottle of champagne. You’re definitely not ready. Nothing the magic of makeup can’t fix again, thank the lords. 

Once you’re sure to be ready, you pour Hoseok a glass of champagne. He is a bit reluctant at first because he will be driving but you insist.

“You’re gonna need it, trust me,” you grab your glass, fill it again and clink it against Hoseok’s.

“Cheers,” you say at the same time before drinking the content of your glasses. Champagne is going to be your way to cope tonight and you know there will be lots of it at the gala. It also helps calm your nerves, if you don’t abuse it. 

“Okay, we should get going.” You stand up and grab your jacket and your keys. 

Hoseok holds the door open for you and offers to carry your bag, which surprises you. “We’re supposed to play boyfriend and girlfriend from now on, right? So come on, Angel, let me help you.” His smile is so bright and heartwarming that it’s painful to see. 

The champagne must be acting up, right?

Or maybe it’s just the nerves and apprehension.

Right?

And Lord knows that you are nervous. And it shows.  “So, how did we meet?” You ask Hoseok as you rearrange his scarf for the nth time in the last ten minutes. 

Hoseok chuckles, his eyes leaving the road for a second to look at you. “Y/n, you’ve asked me the same questions over and over since we climbed into the car. You don’t have to be this nervous, it’s okay. Breathe”  

You try to breathe your nerves out “Turn right at the next stop” You guide him to the manor.

“The nerves are killing me, Hoseok. What if my family sense that we barely know each other?? It would be worse than if I came alone. Oh god, I should’ve drank more champagne” You carefully rearrange a rebel strand of hair in your bun. 

“No more champagne for you, Y/n. Unless you want to throw up at your parents’ feet, which I don’t think they would appreciate.” His comment makes you both smile. 

You turn your head and look at him; it feels like time slows. Your smile slowly fades as you detail his delicate features. If you weren't already tipsy from the champagne, you would’ve certainly blushed when he catches you staring. But you don’t mind, and it seems like he doesn't either. Has he always looked this glowing? A swarm of butterflies is set free in your stomach and, when your eyes fall down his lips, you can’t help wondering how soft they would feel against yours.

I’m too tipsy for this 

You shake your head and look at the road again. You need to focus. You are not falling for your old crush again. 

Yet somehow you are. 

You are because when your eyes meet his, your heart skips a beat and you can feel chills travel through your back. 

You are because the way he grips your hip and holds your hand as you two waltz through the dancing room makes you feel precious. And dizzy.

You know you are and you can’t help it. All it took was 3 days. 

This night is going too smoothly to be true: your parents were charmed by Hoseok, he gets along well with your father and can hold a good conversation with pretty much any guest. The dinner felt like it lasted an eternity but you are thankful that Hoseok was there to liven it up. He made you laugh so much you thought you would choke on your food at some point. 

Everything he does is so infuriatingly adorable, it only makes you like him more. You can’t help a fond smile from appearing on your face when you look at him. 

"I’m such a cliché,” You thought as you ate the last of your dessert. 

But you don’t mind the cliché situation you are in right now, waltzing in a princess-like gown with your *previously old* crush whom you met again after 5 years of not seeing him, who is holding you a bit too tight for it to be innocent. 

You don’t know if it was because of the wine the alcohol in your veins, the excitement, or some kind of mutual attraction, but somehow between the moment you admitted to having a crush on Hoseok and when he said you were beautiful, you and Hoseok found yourselves hidden in the gardens, his lips on yours. Your grip on his neck tightens when his kiss deepens.

Well, that was not expected