#fi!

Immediately, Yoongi sees you butt in, aiming annoyance at your brother, “Wow, really?”

“What? He chose truth. You got a better question?”

“I...” You fold your lips, darting your eyes over to him across the fold-out table with an empty bottle lying in the middle. “No.”

Yoongi levers his gaze on you when his friend continues, 

“Didn’t think so. You can also leave, you know.”

One of the girls at the table cuts the banter short, most likely curious if it was her, “Shut up! Yoongi, go.”

He’ll let her down easy. Because it definitely wasn’t. 

“Hmm.” Playing with a string of his hoodie, he exhales while putting on his best impression of someone going through multiple options.

To be fair, it’s not like he doesn’t have several to think about. He’s not proud of how much he’s gotten around, but he isn’t entirely regretful about it, either. It’s just that they all started to feel the same way, or the hookups just didn’t have that same thrill anymore. Everyone just wants to prove something to him. 

He gets that. It’s just... Repetitive. 

Which makes that day with you special. He was the one proving something to you. And, if he says so himself, he thinks he did his job. 

Not that there’s any fucking way he’s gonna mention that here. 

“Why do we even play when Yoongi’s here?” 

“He takes this long on purpose.” 

Well. Maybe he can, in a way. It’s not like he cares about this dumbass game anyways. Seeing you fidget across the table in this dingy, humid garage, he thinks making you squirm would be so much more entertaining. 

Pulling both strings of his hoodie, Yoongi starts out with a broad response, “Happened last year.” 

He absolutely cannot react to your reaction. As people around the table boo him for being so vague and telling him to fess up, he grins. “Lemme think. Pretty sure it happened over the summer.” 

“Still vague, what the fuck.” 

“I’m done with him.” 

Yoongi catches sight of your hands tightening around your solo, and he wants see the expression on your face. But he’ll stay smart, looking at the ceiling rubbing a finger on his lips. “She gave really good head,” he reminisces through a smirk.

“Who?”

“Why you being so secretive?”

“Hold on, I know exactly who this is.”

Everyone’s eyes at the table—including his and yours—snap to the observer, unblinking as he leans back on his chair and stretches out his leather jacket.

“Who is it, Jimin?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi tacked on, incredibly curious, “Who?”

Smug, his friend tilts his head. “You think I forgot about that girl at the diner? The one that gave you her number?”

Oh, shit. Frankly, that time was pretty damn solid.

But it happened a few weeks before you showed up. And he completely forgot about that.

Knowing when to tap out, Yoongi lets Jimin gloat and hangs his head with a look of mock defeat. “Took you long enough. Thought I was being obvious.”

Jimin laughs as he always does, and everyone reacts around the table as satisfied tipsy people do.

While someone goes to spin the bottle again, Yoongi uses this brief moment to finally look your way. Because he knows how you must feel right now. Page by page, he knows it all.

So when your slightly cracked expression meets his eyes, he shoots you a wink.