#houseofddaeng

He walked her over to the other two members. The one with long hair stood up with an incline. “I’m Min Yoongi.”

She stuck her tongue between her teeth while keeping her hand steady with the mascara wand. The sound of another voice made her pause.

“Unnie, are you almost ready?”

The young woman looked up from the vanity mirror, mascara wand in mid-swipe, to see her friend entering the bedroom. “Almost, Jiwoo. What time did the car service say it would arrive?”

The other young woman glanced at her phone, nibbling her bottom lip. “Within the next five minutes.”

She hummed in agreement and finished her makeup. “Where are we going again?”

Jiwoo rummaged for her lipstick while sitting on the couch. Sighing, she looked toward her friend, “It’s a surprise.”

She turned, raising an eyebrow. “You know how much I hate surprises. Seriously, where are we going?”

Jiwoo rolled her eyes. “I’ll give you a hint. W Korea is hosting it. Happy Unnie?”

She sucked her teeth and grabbed her purse. “You're lucky you’re my best friend and favorite designer.”

Jiwoo giggled and grabbed her coat. Her phone vibrated as she hummed. “Good. Let’s go. The car’s here.”

=*=

The men stood on the stage, repeatedly reviewing their sound cues. Jung Hoseok felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and glanced at the message across the screen. His eyes sparkled as he typed a quick response. Another male with dark hair and a more diminutive stature walked over.

“Everything alright, Hobi?”

“Yeah, Yoongi. My Noona is coming to the show.”

Yoongi smiled. “Ah, I haven’t seen Jiwoo in ages. How is she?”

Hoseok gave a bright smile. “Great! She’s launching a new line for the spring in a few weeks, and her muse is back.”

“Whose back?”

Hoseok and Yoongi looked up as the third unit member walked in. His hair, now a lavender tint, was pushed back off his face and under a baseball cap. Hoseok turned his eyes to Yoongi and said cautiously, “My sister and a friend are coming to the show.”

The third member’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, Jiwoo? She’s bringing a friend?”

Hoseok's lips shaped into a frown. “I know what you’re thinking, Namjoon; she’s off-limits.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?! I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to say it. It’s written all over your face.”

Namjoon shrugged as a crew member ran over to help him put on his mic. “Whatever. I’m innocent.”

Yoongi snorted as he put in his in-ear. “Innocent, my ass. We barely got your name out that gossip rag cause of that–”

Namjoon scoffed, waving his hand away. “Water under a bridge. Let’s just get back to the rehearsal.”

“Uh-huh,” Hoseok murmured. “Just focus on the music.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

=*=

Winter glanced out the window as the butterflies in her stomach fluttered erratically.

Why was she so nervous?

She’d been to numerous events, so why was this one different from the others? Half-listening to Jiwoo, she added one-word answers every so often. Her friend noticed how distracted she was and gently patted her hand.

“Unnie, breathe. It’s going to be okay. I’m happy you’re here in Seoul. This is going to be great for your career.”

She nodded as some of the tension lifted from her shoulders. “I’m excited, just nervous to start something new.”

It was a step in the right direction, and it made sense to start anew. Expanding her brand overseas was just the boost she needed. Unnecessary drama back home only added to her stress. It was time for a change.

As the car stopped at the building's entrance, Jiwoo gave her a warm smile before opening the door, making Winter shake her worries away. “This is the first step.”

The ladies stepped out of the car as flashes went off. Photographers were already getting entrance photos. She looked at her outfit, feeling insecure about how it looked. Jiwoo made it specifically for her, accentuating her assets perfectly, but it wasn’t too revealing. Jiwoo and Winter waved as they walked in. The creative director greeted the duo, ushering them down the carpet to take more photos in front of a media backdrop.

A person stepped forward with a smile. Jiwoo noticed who it was and ran up to him, waving. “Changkyun!”

The tall man smiled widely as he stepped forward. “Jiwoo-nim! Good to see you!”

“I didn’t think you were gonna be here! I thought you were touring overseas?”

He shook his head with a smirk. “I came back a few months early for a shoot. They wanted me to host the entrance event.”

His eyes finally fell on Winter as his posture straightened a bit. “Jiwoo-nim, who is your friend?”

She smiles, motioning to Winter. “This is Winter. She’s one of my closest friends from the US. She’ll be in my fashion show this spring.”

Jiwoo gestured to Changkyun. “Unnie, this is Im Changkyun. He did a few photo shoots for me last year.”

Winter tilted her head toward him in greeting. “Oh, I remember! It was around when you released a solo album, right?”

He chuckled, brushing his hair back. “Yeah. I’m surprised you’d know that.”

Winter shrugged nonchalantly. “I might have listened to it.”

His eyes sparkled. “A woman after my own heart.”

Jiwoo glanced at her watch and patted him on the hand. “We’ll have to catch up more, but we gotta get to the stage.”

Disappointment crossed his face, but he nodded. “Fair enough. I don’t wanna hold you both up. I’ll see you at the after-party?”

Winter bobbed her head as her braids swayed slightly. “Maybe. We’ll see how the night goes. Nice meeting you.”

“You too.”

Once they were within earshot, Winter let out a small giggle. “He’s kind of cute.”

“The way he was staring at you, I’m pretty sure the feeling was mutual,” Jiwoo responded.

“Really?”

Jiwoo gave her a skeptical look. “He was practically drooling when he saw you.”

Winter shook her head. “The last thing I need is something complicated. I plan to focus on my career while I’m here.”

Jiwoo nodded in agreement. “Smart move. Now, let’s enjoy ourselves tonight. The best is yet to come.”

The night went on as Jiwoo and Winter mingled with the guests. While Winter was having a great time, she knew she was networking with the leading industry people. As she grabbed another glass of champagne, Changkyun walked up the stairs to the stage as the music died. Applause rang out as he bowed to the crowd.

“Welcome to W Korea’s event Love Your W. I’m Im Changkyun, and I will be the MC tonight. Again, let's thank W Korea for hosting this event and giving to a great cause.”

He paused for the applause before continuing. “It is my utmost pleasure to introduce this act; they’ve taken over the underground scene, and with their single “UGH,” it flew up the charts. I present the members of gu239: RM, JHope, and AgustD!”

The crowd roared deafeningly. Winter watched as three men entered the stage, and the first beats of the intro came on. Her eyes widened as she noticed Hoseok dancing on the stage.

“H-Hobi?!”

Jiwoo giggled as she clapped. “Surprise! I knew you’d love this!”

Seeing her best friend’s little brother grow up was a surprise. Winter knew he was in the music business, but not to this caliber. He seemed in his element, vibing with the crowd as he effortlessly rapped his verse. She couldn’t help dancing to the beat as they whipped the crowd into a frenzy until she laid eyes on him.

Oh damn.

They locked eyes.

Namjoon was having the time of his life on stage. Whatever nerves he had left were gone as soon as I.M. introduced them on stage. He, Hoseok, and Yoongi began with a fan favorite, “Cypher Medley," showcasing each rapper's lyrical skills. As he got to his verse, Namjoon worked the crowd, getting them to dance and rap with him. As he came to the middle of the stage, he saw her. He almost tripped over his last verse. She stood out from the crowd for all the right reasons. Shaking off the feeling, he brought his focus back to the set. To his surprise, she met his gaze more than once. It seemed her eyes bore into his soul.

As he reached his verse in “Ddaeng” and began his rap stutter, something seemed to awaken in Winter. That fluttering feeling returned. She blinked once, then twice. It wasn’t until the music ended and the applause started that she was shaken from her trance. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Jiwoo looking at her in concern.

“You alright, Winter?”

She laughed and nodded. “Yeah. That performance was amazing! I can’t believe that was your little brother!”

Jiwoo smiled as she pointed towards the stage. “Wanna head backstage and meet them? Hobi gave me passes.”

“Um, hello. Yes, I wanna go!”

Moments later, Winter followed Jiwoo backstage toward the green room. The door was slightly ajar, and she knocked as someone opened it wider. Hoseok’s bright smile appeared as he ushered them inside.

“Noona!”

He wrapped his sister in a hug as he laughed. “I’m so happy you came!”

Jiwoo laughed as Hoseok set her down. “You know I wouldn’t miss a performance from my favorite little brother.”

Hoseok beamed as he gestured to Winter. “Don’t think I see you hiding there, Noona. C’mere.”

Winter smiled as she hugged Hoseok and gave him a once-over once pulling back. “You’ve grown up, Hoseok. I can’t believe that the assassin of a rapper used to run around filming those Hope on the Street videos.”

He felt his face turn flush as the other two guys laughed. “Guys, this is Winter. She’s a long-time family friend.” 

“Nice to meet you,” she said.

Namjoon stood up next. Their eyes locked, and suddenly they became only aware of each other’s presence, having forgotten about everyone else. Time seemed to move in slow motion as he walked over to her. 

"I'm Kim Namjoon; nice to meet you."

She looked even better up close. "Nice to meet you, too, Namjoon."

Damn. 

Her smile mesmerized him, which made it obvious how attracted he was to her. The whole room felt it. Hoseok stepped up, clearing his throat. 

“Got any plans for later on?”

Jiwoo shook her head. “Not really. I know there will be a few after-parties, but none caught our interest.”

Namjoon’s eyes twinkled as he cleared his throat. “Why don’t you both come out with us?”

“What?” Hoseok stared at him curiously. “We’re not doing anything fun. Just getting food and drinks.”

“All the more reason. We can catch up and chill.”

Winter glanced at Jiwoo for an answer, and her friend nodded with a wink. It was settled. 

She turned to Namjoon with a smile, “Send us the address, and we’ll see you there.”

=*=

Everyone watched in amusement as Namjoon and Winter chatted. They all decided to meet at a mom-and-pop restaurant, conveniently away from any potential prying eyes. Luckily, no one else was there, so they could all eat and drink peacefully. The owner, a man they had known since their trainee days, bought them a large platter full of beef and pork.

Jiwoo and Yoongi volunteered to cook the meat while Hoseok went to get the soju and beer. Namjoon watched Yoongi start the grill and glanced at Winter.

“Ever done kbbq?”

“Oh, all the time. Jiwoo and I would go and pig out after her fashion shows.”

Namjoon grinned as he sipped his water. “Really? You’re full of surprises.”

Winter scoffed as she grabbed a piece of brisket with her chopsticks. “Why does that seem so surprising to you?”

Namjoon shrugged sheepishly. “You’re a model.”

“Models have to eat, too,” she said matter-of-factly before getting up to help Hoseok with the beer and soju bottles. 

Okay, that was dumb. Namjoon wanted to kick himself. The last thing he wanted to do was mess things up with her. There was definitely a mutual attraction between the two. He could see that, but what would it take to take it to the next level? She wasn’t like these other women. This was going to take some serious finessing. By the time they returned to the table, he had devised a plan. If he was patient, the results would be fruitful.

“Miss me,” she teased, placing the bottles down.

“Actually, yeah, I did,” he answered, surprising himself as well as Yoongi and Hoseok.

The other two rappers exchanged looks but kept their thoughts to themselves. Hoseok made a mental note to chat with Winter at some point while she was in town. The last thing he wanted was to see her become a notch on Namjoon’s bedframe.

The night continued as the old and new friends enjoyed each other's company until they were all full and slightly tipsy.

Once the bill was paid — at the insistence of Namjoon — Yoongi was convinced it was another way to impress Winter. They thanked the owners before walking outside.

“How you getting home, Noona?”

Jiwoo flashed her phone screen to reveal the rideshare app. “Setting up a ride in a few minutes.”

Namjoon stepped over to Winter, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “Have you got a place here yet?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. I’m staying with Jiwoo until they get it arranged.”

“Your agency?” He asked, wanting clarification about who ‘they’ were.

“Uh-huh. When I’m not in photoshoots, I work part-time as a makeup artist.”

His widened. “Wow, that’s impressive.”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Modeling is fun, but it’s not a job I’d want to retire from. It helps to learn other aspects of the job.”

If he wasn’t already smitten, he was for sure now. There was more to her than she let on. She wasn’t like any of the women he normally hit on. Her answers surprised him for sure. Nothing seemed superficial about her; it felt genuine.

“Unnie, the cars here.”

Namjoon tried to hide his frown as she turned her attention to Jiwoo. She nodded before looking back at Namjoon with a small smile. “It was nice meeting you, Namjoon.”

“Likewise, Winter. Maybe we’ll see each other another time.”

“Possibly, especially since Hobi is your friend.”

He nodded as his dimples appeared. The car pulled up, and he opened the door for the ladies. Jiwoo slid in, followed by Winter. She paused, giving Namjoon another smile.

“Thanks again for a great time. Y'all were amazing on stage. I hope we get to see another performance.”

“You liked me that much,” he flirted, pleased to hear her praise

Winter couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I enjoyed all three equally. Goodnight, Namjoon.”

“Goodnight, Winter.”

He closed the door after she was situated inside. The group began to walk to their apartments. While Hobi and Yoongi chatted, Namjoon remained quiet. All he could think about was Winter.

That woman had cast a spell over him…

=*=

“Perfect. Turn this way, love.”

The bulbs flashed as Winter turned for a three-quarter profile. She had a slight smirk on her face as the garment she wore fluttered in the breeze from the fans. She ran her hand through the curls on her head, giving a wink to the camera.

The creative director looked up from her screen and gave a thumbs-up. “We got the shot.”

Everyone clapped as Winter smiled brightly, mindful of the train on the dress as she went to the dressing room. One of the assistants helped her out of the garment as she removed the curly wig, letting her locs fall and running her fingers through them. Winter put back on her clothes—a pair of sweats and a crop top—and started removing the makeup from her face. 

The creative director arrived as she was finishing her moisturizer.

“I just had to come by to say you were a joy to work with. Jiwoo spoke highly of you, and we were not disappointed.”

Winter grinned, pulling her locs into a low ponytail. “She said the same thing. I appreciate all the kindness. This was the smoothest photoshoot I’ve done in a long time.”

“That’s so good to hear. I hope we work with you again, Winter.”

She waved as she walked out. Winter gathered her things and exited the building. She put on her mask and hat and headed down the street. The chill from the cold hit her instantly. She wrapped her scarf tighter around her throat and headed to a cafe near her apartment.

The warmth wrapped around her as she walked inside and greeted the owner. She found a seat near the back and looked over the menu. The barista came over, and Winter gave her an order. She was handed a pager and settled in her chair, looking at her phone.

“Winter?”

Something in the timbre of that voice sounded so familiar. She felt a shiver run through her body as her face warmed. 

She looked up to see Namjoon walking towards her. She almost didn’t recognize him because he was so bundled up from the cold. She would have been clueless about who he was if she hadn’t seen the lavender bangs peeking from the beanie.

He walked up, holding a coffee cup and grinning beneath his mask.

“Hey. I thought I saw you over here in the corner. Mind if I sit?”

Winter gestured to the empty seat, shaking her head. “Be my guest.”

He settled in, getting comfortable as he removed his jacket and pulled down his face mask. He glanced over at her across the table as he sipped his drink.

It had only been a few weeks since he’d seen Winter that faithful night, and he was still just as smitten. He could only talk about her to the point that Yoongi and Hoseok tuned him out every time.

Not that he cared. He was patient in his planning. Maybe he had some help. Jiwoo unknowingly gave away the location of Winter’s modeling gig. The rest he figured out on his own. The coffee shop was a bonus.

“What have you been up to?”

Winter sipped her water before answering. “Just finished a shoot.”

“Oh? How did it go?”

“It went really well. Thanks for asking.”

The pager went off, halting the conversation...or lack thereof. Winter stood, going to grab her order, leaving Namjoon to his thoughts.

Maybe he read her wrong. Perhaps she didn’t like him that much. He frowned to himself, sipping his drink. Not to brag, but it didn’t take much effort with most women.

But she’s not most women.

Winter returned moments later with her iced latte, sandwich, and salad. Namjoon glanced at her food curiously. She held up half of the sandwich, and he politely declined. 

“So what brings you to this side of town?” she asked before taking a bite of her sandwich.

Namjoon sipped his drink before answering. “Oh, my studio is down the street. I come here almost every day.”

Winter’s eye lit up with interest. “Oh? Were you working on some new music with the group?”

A tinge of red covered Namjoon’s cheeks. He coughed slightly. “Actually, it’s still pretty new. Just working on the lyrics currently.”

She nodded in understanding. “I get it. But I’d love to hear something once you’re comfortable sharing.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

They exchanged soft smiles as something shifted in the air between them. This couldn’t have been just in his head; there was definitely an attraction between them.

Winter wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin before meeting his gaze once more. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Namjoon nearly choked on his coffee, coughing for a few moments. He glanced at her in surprise, trying to figure out if this was another daydream.

“Namjoon, are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” he coughed once more before shooting Winter a reassuring grin. “I’m good.”

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Oh, she was serious. Winter wouldn’t have asked a second time if it wasn’t. He nodded, getting up and grabbing her tray for her. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

He threw her trash away as she put on her coat and followed him out of the cafe. 

“My place is near here,” he offered.

Winter bit her lip in thought. “Is that smart though? Would we run into anyone on the way?”

Damn. She had a good point. Namjoon had promised his bandmates there wouldn’t be any issues. If he were caught taking Winter to his place, things wouldn’t go well for either of them. Those sites would be out for blood.

She reached for his hand, giving him a gentle squeeze. “I’ll get a hotel. Less suspicious if it’s under my name.”

He shook his head. “I’m paying–”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not arguing this. It’s cold out here, and we’re wasting time. I’m putting the reservation under my name and that’s it.”

There was no use arguing. Soon they were sitting comfortably in a suite, sharing a bottle of red wine. Namjoon gave Winter her props. This was a much better idea. No one questioned it, and he slipped up to the suite after she settled in, making sure it was up to both their standards.

“How’s the wine?”

Winter set her glass down with a nod. “It’s good. Not too dry.”

They sat in the silence, each in their own thoughts. Winter glanced over at him, leaning into her arm.

“You like me?”

Namjoon finished the contents of his glass and set it next ot hers. “Yeah. I’m guessing the feeling is mutual.”

Winter smirked, running her hands through her locs. “You’re correct in your observation.”

“You want to know something?”

“Hmm?”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “During our performance, I almost tripped up during my rap when I saw you in the audience.”

He met her gaze and laughed in disbelief. “And I can’t believe I just admitted that aloud.”

Winter scooted closer, patting his knee. “It’s kind of adorable in a way.”

“R-Really?”

“Uh-huh,” she answered, biting down on her lip. “It shows you’re not just a fuck boy.”

Namjoon snorted as he laughed. “Damn, I really give off that vibe?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve heard some things.”

“Oh? Do share, please.”

Winter straddled his lap, running her fingers down his chest. She noted the boardness as the muscles flexed. “What fun would that be?”

Without a thought, he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. Winter deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck as the pair continued making out. His tongue flicked across her lips, making her lips part as their tongues danced.

Sounds of content passed through them as they part for air.

His hands traveled from her shoulder blades down her back until they rested above the swell of her ass cheeks. He rested his forehead against hers, softly kissing the tip of her nose. "You're beautiful; you know that," he said breathlessly.

"Thank you," she murmured shyly at his compliment. Beautiful. It wasn't a word often used to describe her. Pretty, hot, and sexy–she heard that often. But the word beautiful had never been used, even if she was in the fashion industry.

His fingers played with the hem of her crop top, lightly tugging at the waistband of her sweats. Namjoon wouldn't go any further than the kiss if Winter stopped it altogether. He cupped her chin, their eyes meeting.

"Would you like to keep going? Just say the word, I'll back off if you want me to.”

He was giving her a choice.

"Let's continue," she answered after a beat.

He took her hand and led her into the bedroom. As they reached the bed, he pulled the top over her head, discarding it on the floor. His lips found hers with ease as he tugged her sweats down slowly. They pooled at her ankles, and she kicked them away without a single thought. His pulse quickened at her standing before him in her lingerie. He bit his lip and glanced back into her eyes.

So very enticing. 

How did he luck out with her? 

Namjoon pushed his thoughts aside as that nagging feeling returned. Yeah, he got around quite a bit, and maybe a few scandals were under his belt. It wasn’t like they were in it for the long haul, so it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. 

Focus, you idiot.

“Joon?”

He blinked, staring at Winter as a dimpled grin formed. She made herself comfortable on the bed, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Fuck it, there was no way he was passing up with her. His clothing was stripped off in a frenzy until only his boxers remained. He leaned in as his lips brushed hers, climbing on top of her as his hands caged her in.

She welcomed his kisses and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer, lightly nibbling his lower lip. He pulled away, kissing a path along her jaw and to her neck. She tilted her head up, giving him better access. Sounds of approval passed her lips, followed by a hiss as his teeth bit into her skin.

"Fuck, that feels good. K-Keep going," she whimpered.

Namjoon growled softly in his throat as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Winter could feel his cock rub against her lower lip through the material. Between the moans spilling from her lips and the sensation of their clothing on his erection, his arousal was at an all-time high. He wasted no time unhooking her bra and throwing it somewhere on the floor. With a slight smirk, he bent down, kissing around one of her nipples. His free hand gave the other equal attention. He took the nipple in his mouth, suckling it while Winter squirmed under him, dragging her nails through his scalp.

Damn, he knew what the hell he was doing. The friction between her legs was becoming too much to bear. He had to feel the wet patch forming between her legs.

He let go of her erect nipple with an audible pop and gave her a grin. The pout on her lips made him grow even harder as he nibbled on her bottom lip. 

"That won't be a problem," he murmured. His fingers dragged down her stomach, feeling the contours and dips, appreciating the art that was her body.

They were entering dangerous territory. 

Was this so wrong?

They knew what the night would bring, but they didn’t care.

One-night stands weren’t problematic. Nothing complicated could ever come from this.

Seokjin June (Set a few months after One Down)

Seokjin’s thumb moves of its own accord, and the social media posts blur into each other. It seems pointless, scrolling through his friends’ and acquaintances’ lives, especially when his restricted hour to use his phone will come to an end soon.

Despite that realisation, he stays where he is, lying on his side and aimlessly scrolling. It was inconceivable, the first few weeks, that there were people continuing to lead their normal lives while he was here, but it’s less shocking now. His shared room is empty but for him; he should go outside, for it’s a cool evening in the middle of a hot summer. He should go outside, he should get some fresh air, he should mingle with the other soldiers.

But just the thought of it tires him out, so he continues scrolling, lamenting his mind turning to mush. He should get off Instagram, though - as he moves his thumb up to bring his apps tray down, he accidentally clicks on a notification that pops up the same second.

He groans silently as the screen goes dark before a cheery jingle starts playing, the familiar yet annoying sound of Words with Friends opening on his phone. He stares at the screen unblinkingly, waiting for the game to boot up so he can close it. The moment it does, though, the app informs him that a new game is ready to begin, with just the right number of players already there.

Better than Instagram, he decides wryly, and clicks on Start. Six players in total, and he goes fourth. He plays the word silent, frowning slightly as the app dings to signal ten points.

The next player, Player 5 - or Dr. Na, as per their username - uses his L to play library. It gets fifteen points, and Seokjin scoffs.

By the time his turn comes around again, the board is slightly more spread out, and he uses Player 1’s miles to play lonely. Eight points later, Dr. Na plays lament with his L and gets fifteen points again.

Seokjin frowns. It seems like a coincidence but nearly five rounds later, Dr. Na has used at least one of his letters and consistently scored higher than him. He waits for round eight and when his turn comes around, he uses Dr. Na’s Z to play zealot, and scores twenty-five points. With only a handful of options left, Dr. Na is forced to use his T to play truck, scoring twelve points.

In the middle of his dorm, Seokjin grins. Almost immediately, a tiny notification pops up on top of the speech bubble icon 

Maybe it’s petty, maybe he’s a sore loser or maybe he’s just tired of talking to other soldiers he lives and trains with, but in a rare move, Kim Seokjin navigates to Dr. Na’s profile and clicks on the tiny speech bubble icon. From the empty profile picture template, he concludes Dr. Na is a woman.

Well played, is all she’s typed. 

Seokjin chuckles softly. Learned from the best, he replies. 

Good thing I’m not the competitive type.

Or I’d be in big trouble?

Or I’d be thinking about this mishap for the rest of the day. And I have a job where distractions are deadly.

Whew, that’s dramatic, he types, then pauses. But I’m not judging.

Yeah? What do you do?

He bites his lip. I’m a chef. And you’re… a doctor?

That’s your final guess?

Either that or you’re a huge James Bond fan. 

How did you know??? 

Her reply comes out of nowhere, her surprise mirroring his own. He rolls over onto his stomach, feeling uncharacteristically smug at this seemingly correct guess.

Dr No is the best Bond movie, he informs her, and that is a hill I will die on.

Booo. It’s ancient. 

That’s part of the charm. 

One of my friends used to watch Dr No all the time too. He made me watch it so many times I swore I’d never watch it again.

And yet, it’s your username?

He can sense he’s caught her out; he can see her typing and stopping a couple of times. He looks at his watch and feels a fleeting disappointment; he’ll have to hand in his phone soon.

Guilty But the name works on a few different levels. But enough about my username

Mine is quite normal

Direct, you mean. You like gimbaps, I assume

In a manner of speaking

There’s a pause where Seokjin frowns, his heart skipping an uneven beat.

What did you say you do again?

Me? I’m a doctor. So you guessed right, I suppose Do you work at a restaurant I may have eaten at?

I don’t know I’m actually serving right now

There’s that pause again. Seokjin’s thumbs hover over the screen, but when he sees her typing again, he freezes, waiting.

And you like gimbaps?

My friend does.

A bell rings in the distance, startling Seokjin. He needs to return his phone; his heart sinks unexpectedly at the thought.

How are you doing? she asks. You know… serving?

I’m okay. It was hard at first but it’s getting better. What about you?  I mean… you’re a doctor, right? How is that?

Tiring But I’m trying to eat healthy these days

That’s good I mean, as a chef, I approve

Thanks

Footsteps outside the door, and then a knock. “Dinner!” comes the voice. “Deposit your phones in the office on your way!”

I have to go, he types quickly, getting off his bed.

Oh, okay Take care

You too Sleep early maybe You know, since you’re tired and all

I’ll try But I was thinking I’ll watch Dr No again maybe

Yeah? Thought you hated it

Not that much apparently, comes her reply. It might be fun. You know, for old time’s sake.

Seokjin stops at his door. The game is forgotten; the multiple pings coming from the other players have been muted in favour of this impromptu conversation. Staring at his screen, he types in one last reply.

Have a gimbap for me

Without waiting for a response, he turns his phone off and steps out of the dorm.

—

Yoongi March; Set during Pretty Girls

Yoongi can’t feel anything; not his hands, not the cool air of the air conditioner, not the sofa in his studio. Or maybe he can feel everything - so much so that his nerve endings have lost all sensation, and it’s just Miso on his lap, her hands, her lips, her hips under his palms and the feel of her sighs against his skin.

Coming back to his studio had been a long time coming. After all the events of the day, after a painful couple of hours when she’d had to go back to Donghyuk’s studio and work, she’d returned. The energy was different this time around, though; despite spending all day together, it felt like the first time they were alone.

The small talk had been negligible, hardly even a formality. Yoongi hadn’t been able to resist pulling her in for a kiss and it seemed as though Miso had been waiting for a sign from him, for she’d begun unbuttoning her blouse instantly.

Yoongi had taken the initiative this time. Kneeling on the floor while she sat on the sofa, situated between her legs, he’d worshipped her. His brain was on autopilot by this point; the desire to see her pleasured, to see her with her guard down and show him how he made her feel was driving him as he gripped her thighs where they rested on his shoulders.

His intention had been to return the favour from earlier in the day when she’d sucked him off in the woods. But once she’d finished (moaning, sighing, wet in his mouth), she’d finally opened her eyes to face him, gaze shaky and cheeks flushed. She’d kissed him and steered him onto the sofa, one hand snaking down to his crotch and seemingly confirming something. With a hint of a smirk, she’d tugged his jeans down and straddled him.

Their breathing is in sync now, gasps of varying pitch and clothing scattered around his studio.

“I’m so close,” she whispers, her voice unlike anything he’s ever heard. Her fingernails dig into his shoulders as she increases the pace of her hips, and Yoongi nods in response, pulling her to him as close as he can, groaning as he feels her wetness coat his cock. He reaches up her pale, slender body with one hand, memorising the scent of her skin, the softness of her small breasts and the sensation of her lips brushing against his as she fucks him into the sofa.

Yoongi finishes seconds before her; their sighs of ecstasy mingle as he spills into the condom they’d belatedly remembered. Miso drops her head onto his shoulder and he presses a kiss to the side of her neck, breathing in deeply.

She pulls away after a few seconds. Her choppy hair is tousled and her lips are swollen, but she looks more exhilarated than he’s ever seen her. There are words on the tip of Yoongi’s tongue that threaten to spill out, but he senses it’s not the time.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Min Suga,” she says, her mouth tilting upwards slightly. 

He grins and leans forward to capture her lips in a short kiss. “Just being a patient man, my love,” he murmurs, squeezing her waist before dropping his hands to his sides.

Miso’s eyes flicker briefly before she chuckles and clambers off him. They get dressed and clean up in comfortable silence; Yoongi watches her out of the corner of his eye, relieved when she doesn’t seem to regret their tryst at all.

“Are you releasing any more music soon?” she asks after a while, when they’re seated at his desk. She’s wrapped in the jacket he’d been wearing all day; she hadn’t asked and he was glad for that.

“I don’t think so,” he admits, clicking on a sound byte so a low, thumping sound fills the studio. “There’s just no time. Not with the tour and everyone else’s music.”

“You can always release it unofficially.”

“Yeah, that’ll go over great with the rest of the team. Maybe after I’ve enlisted,” he suggests wryly, “when they can’t do anything about it.”

She nods, leaning forward when her phone buzzes. “Ugh, it’s Donghyuk,” she mutters. It’s the third time he’s seen this reaction at the mention of her lead producer, and Yoongi takes it as confirmation that she and Donghyuk are friends.

“Yeoboseyo?” she says into the phone, sighing slightly. “Mhm. Yeah, no, I’ll do it tonight. Sure. Oh, I don’t -“ She stops abruptly as her eyes widen, before she sighs. “He’s singing,” she whispers to Yoongi, who can’t help but snort at the thought.

Miso puts the call on speaker and places her phone on the desk. The studio is now filled with the scratchy sound of a half-arranged instrumental and Donghyuk humming unintelligibly over it, complete with some rudimentary beatboxing.

Yoongi can’t help it; he covers his mouth with his hands to stifle his laughter. He leans forward and mutes the mic, turning to see Miso rolling her eyes but laughing as well.

“He’s a really good producer,” says Yoongi clearly, “but there’s a reason he, Namjoon and I were always at the bottom every month when we were trainees. It’s a good melody, though,” he admits, just as Donghyuk’s solo comes to an end.

“What do you think?” he asks over the phone.

Miso unmutes the mic, her hand snapping up to cover Yoongi’s mouth as he begins to laugh again. “It’s good,” she says. “Sounds a little too old school EXO to me, though. Not sure it’s the kind of sound they were looking for in the brief.”

“Ah, well. We can edit out some of the ad libs,” he agrees, the sound of a keyboard in the background. Yoongi nods emphatically and mouths no kidding, prompting Miso to slap his leg lightly.

“Anyway -“ She clears her throat. “Send me the file. I’ll try to work on it tonight.”

“You’re still in the studio? I thought you would’ve left by now.”

Miso catches Yoongi’s eye for a moment. “Uh, yeah, I’m still here. Just taking a break right now.”

“Right.” There’s a pause -  a knowing, suspicious pause. “With Yoongi?”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows and he can visibly see Miso’s hackles rise. “Um… I mean, he’s here, too. In the studio. In the building. Why?”

“No reason,” he says nonchalantly. “Just that it’s clear you have a thing for him and I know he’s single, so -”

Donghyuk’s gleeful confession gets cut short abruptly when Miso grabs her phone and turns off the speaker, pressing the phone to her ear and instantly getting to her feet.

“Anything else you need?” she says loudly into her phone, facing away from Yoongi. “No? Yes, I will. Definitely. Goodbye, Donghyuk.” Swearing softly, she hangs up before gingerly making her way back to the desk.

Yoongi turns to his monitor as she nears him, quietly sinking back into her seat. He continues doing what he was doing when Donghyuk called, calmly moving files into the shared drive he was managing. 

“Everything okay?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Totally,” she replies, her voice betraying nothing. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

It’s almost challenging, her tone. He turns to her blankly, raising his eyebrows. “Okay,” he says, turning back to the screen and clenching his jaw so his face doesn’t move against his will.

“Shut up, Yoongi,” she mutters, and Yoongi breaks. Turning to her again, he sees, for the first time, Kang Miso blushing. Grinning with his heart full, he twists his torso to face her and, hooking his hand underneath the seat of her chair, he tugs her to him.

“I’m totally single, by the way,” he confirms, leaning forward towards her.

“Yeah, no kidding,” she says, rolling her eyes - but they have a rare twinkle. Clutching the collar of his t-shirt mock-angrily, she accepts his kiss.

—

Jungkook Set the morning after The Sixth

It’s a beautiful morning. The sun is out, warm but not hot; the breeze is calm and comforting; the view of the Han is picturesque and as he pours himself a coffee, Jungkook feels like he could skip. It’s a beautiful morning.

He steps onto his balcony looking over the city, steam rising gently from the ceramic cup. He’s still in pajamas but hasn’t bothered to put on a t-shirt, armed with the confidence that he is simply too high up to be photographed by paparazzi. 

Also, it’s tough to care about paparazzi on what is, genuinely, a beautiful morning.

He enjoys it for a few minutes, quietly sipping his coffee. He’d like to be here for a lot longer, but a shrill sound breaks through the calm and he cringes, dashing back into the kitchen to pick up his phone where he’d left it on the counter. Glancing at the screen, he rolls his eyes as he answers the call.

“Jimin hyung,” he says. “What’s up? How come you’re up so early?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” comes Jimin’s reply. 

“I fell asleep early last night,” says Jungkook evenly, making his way back to the balcony. “I, uh… I was tired.” Without meaning to, he feels his face break out into a grin. “It’s nice to be up in the morning, though. The sky is all blue and clear. Oh, and you can hear birds chirping.”

“Birds?”

“Yes. You may want to try it sometime, hyung.”

Jimin evidently ignores this. “And why aren’t you responding to my texts?” he demands.

Texts? Jungkook brings the phone away and swipes over to WhatsApp, grimacing when he sees the several dozen messages from various people he’s yet to respond to. 

“Sorry, hyung,” he mutters. “Didn’t end up checking my phone. What’s - wait, why are you up so early?”

There’s a moment where Jimin pauses. “I had a meeting. Listen, are you busy today?”

“Uh…” Jungkook glances back in the direction of his bedroom. “I don’t know. I might be. Why?”

“Do you want to go to dinner? I really want to try that new sushi bar that’s come up in Gangnam. Do you want to go?”

“Oh.” Jungkook frowns, mentally going through his entire calendar. “Not sure. Is it a work thing? Or just you and me?”

“Not just you and me,” corrects Jimin. “Sungwoon will be there, probably Hoseok hyung as well.” 

There’s something that makes it sound like there’s more to that sentence. “Anyone else?”

“Well, Dilara is here, too,” says Jimin quickly. “She’s got a race this weekend so she’s here today…”

“Right.” Jungkook exhales silently, pressing his tongue into his chin. He needs to be rational about this, he thinks to himself, even as an old, feeble sinking feeling creeps into his stomach.

He hears a sound and turns, his heart skipping a beat when he spots Lia with the coffee mug he’d left outside for her, pouring the coffee he’d made. She’s wearing what looks like the oversized t-shirt he’d had on last night, a light grey one that reaches all the way down to the middle of her thighs. Her hair is tousled and splayed messily down her shoulders and it’s a few seconds before he realises Jimin has resumed speaking.

“Hey - hey, listen -” Jungkook lowers his voice and cups his hand over the receiver. “I have to go. I’ll call you later.” Without waiting for a response, he hangs up.

He turns back around to his original position, listening intently for the moment Lia pads onto the balcony, running a hand through her long hair.

“Morning,” she says, joining him by the railing, a foot’s distance between them. 

“Morning,” he replies. “Sleep well?” He nods as she hums, and notices her gaze flicker to his arms and torso and bites his lip, satisfied.

“Hell of a view,” she says, but he can’t tell if she’s referring to the city. She tugs absently at the wide collar of the t-shirt and the tattoo at the nape of her neck is momentarily visible. 

“You get used to it. Actually, no, you don’t,” he amends after a moment. “Dunno why I said that.”

“Thanks for the coffee.” Lia takes a sip and sighs softly. Jungkook gets the distinct feeling that she may be in the same space that he is - awake, comfortable, hopeful - and it makes him glad. “Wow. This is Seoul.”

He follows her gaze at the expanse of the city. “Well, part of it.”

“Well, obviously.” They exchange shy smiles. 

“So,” she begins after a few moments, turning around and leaning back against the railing, “what does Jeon Jungkook do on his weekends?”

“Oh.” A little thrown by this question, he hums, gripping the railing and leaning backwards until the veins in his forearms pop. “Not a lot, actually. He usually works if he has to, or he catches up on, like… laundry and stuff. In fact, there are whole weekends where Jeon Jungkook doesn’t even leave his house.”

Lia raises her eyebrows, but he can tell she’s amused. The soft rays of the sun fall on her face as she looks past him and out at the city, and Jungkook wants to pinch himself. It actually worked. Weeks of respectful distance, letting her take the lead, taking on her challenge and winning that final date with her - it all actually worked.

“Any plans for the weekend?”

“Um -” He realises he’s staring and looks away, tossing his bangs out of his eyes. “Depends. Are you free?”

She smiles. “Maybe? There’s a chance I have to go visit a couple of friends. They just had a baby,” she adds by way of explanation. “So. Not sure.”

Jungkook nods. “Don’t babies sleep really early, though?”

“So I’ve heard.”

“And apparently parents of babies get tired, too.”

“Go figure.” She grins. “I’ll let you know how it goes,” she promises, placing her empty cup on the balcony table and stretching. “Do you mind if I take a shower?”

Jungkook shakes his head, watching her as she squeezes his hand and heads inside, her long hair straight and messy down her shoulders. I’ll let you know how it goes. Despite his attempts at staying cool, the words make his stomach leap. He gathers both their cups and goes back  into the kitchen, when he remembers something.

Fishing out his phone, he scrolls to his chat with Jimin. He was right; there are nearly ten messages from his friend he’s yet to reply to, the last one being from just a few minutes ago. 

Jimin [09:45] so will you come?? tell meeeeeeee JUNGKOOK

Jimin [09:50] it’s been a long time jungkook

Jungkook stares at the screen, trying to ignore the tiny trickle of guilt creeping into his heart. Just then, he hears the shower turn on in his en suite, and it disappears.

Jungkook [09:57] Maybe another time. Sorry.

—

Hoseok April; Set shortly after Pretty Girls

Hoseok leans back on the recliner and sighs hugely, stretching his shoulders before placing his hands behind his head. “You think if you move here, they’ll let you keep this apartment?” he asks, pressing his back into the plush fabric.

Chanyeol clicks his tongue, nudging him with a beer can and handing it to him, crossing Hoseok to sit on the beanbag. “I have to move here first. But the traffic here is just too much,” he adds critically.

“Please, you live in Busan. How is that better?”

“Busan isn’t as bad as Seoul,” pipes up Jimin, sounding a bit defensive as he takes a beer as well from Chanyeol. He’d tagged along after filming since Sooah had to work late, and he and Hoseok had come over to Chanyeol’s company accommodation while he stayed in Seoul on a two week assignment.

“I’d move here if Hayoung can, too,” says Chanyeol fairly, comfortably chugging down a quart of his beer.

“Do it,” instructs Hoseok. “Plus the train system makes going home a lot easier from Seoul than Busan.”

Chanyeol snorts. “When was the last time you took a train anywhere?”

Hoseok’s jaw drops exaggeratedly while Jimin laughs. “No train can compare to hyung’s Porsche,” he adds, reaching over from his place on the floor and patting Hoseok’s knee.

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“Make fun now, but someone needs a quick ride with the multiple aux outlet and charging point and suddenly I’m everyone’s best friend,” mutters Hoseok.

“We’re just teasing, hyung.”

“Well, partly,” chortles Chanyeol. “But coming back - moving to Seoul isn’t on the cards any time soon. Like, I’d probably think about it if… hang on -“

Hoseok frowns as Chanyeol leans forward, peering at something.

“Is that a hickey?” 

He tugs at Hoseok’s collar and Hoseok jerks back.

“No, it’s not,” he says hastily, fixing his collar as Chanyeol resumes his seat, giving him an approving nod. Except it is, he thinks; naturally, the concealer the make-up team had applied for the shoot has come off. He pulls his collar away slightly to see beige streaks on the dark cotton and silently groans.

“So much for not having time to date because of your busy schedule,” says Chanyeol, grinning.

“I’m not dating anyone,” says Hoseok forcefully, panicking slightly now and meeting Jimin’s eyes, who’s pursing his lips and looking into the bottom of his can. “I actually don’t have the time.”

“Ah, well.” Chanyeol shrugs. “Looks like you’re having fun, though. It’s not a bad thing,” he adds when Hoseok rolls his eyes. “As long as you’re both on the same page.”

Are we ever. It’s incredibly ironic, for as far as he’s concerned, Chaeyoung is his girlfriend in everything but name. Aside from the fact that neither of them have ever used that word, Hoseok can’t think of any other term he can ascribe to her.

But right now, even thinking about it in Chanyeol’s presence makes him sweat. For the first time in nearly two decades, Hoseok can’t predict how his best friend would react to something. It’s a strange sort of handicap, especially when it involves a clandestine relationship with his little sister.

“We’re… yeah, we’re - we’re in the same place, pretty much,” he explains pathetically. “It’s… it’s going good.”

“That’s good,” says Chanyeol, sounding as though he means it. “You can bring her to drinks or something tomorrow night, before I leave. If you want.”

“Oh, that’s - that’s not a good idea,” says Hoseok immediately, shaking his head.

“Why not?”

He gapes and turns to Jimin, in a desperate and silent plea for help. Jimin’s eyes widen and he purses his lips again so his amused expression disappears.

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re that serious,” says Jimin, sounding surprisingly convincing. “I mean, I haven’t met her either,” he adds, as though he hadn’t brought Chaeyoung a boxful of ready-to-eat couscous from his trip to Los Angeles last month.

“Oh.” Chanyeol nods slowly. “Okay. Is it like a - what is it called now? A situationship?”

“Something like that.” Except I’m in love with her. I’m in love with your little sister and she’s the best part of my day and even though it’s a huge betrayal I can’t help it and I just know if I look you in the eye too long you’ll figure it out. That I’m in love with your sister. And that she probably loves me, too, even though she hasn’t actually said it yet.

Hoseok swallows, reining in the word vomit. He places his beer on the floor; there is no scope to risk that kind of liability right now.

“Interesting. Oh, you know who else is in a situationship kind of thing?” Chanyeol says suddenly, making a face. “My sister.”

Jimin places a hand over his mouth, and Hoseok can see his cheeks lift from where he’s sitting. He aims a kick at the younger member’s foot, glaring at him to be cool.

“She - really?” Hoseok clears this throat. “She told you that?”

“Oh, no, no.” Chanyeol gives a hollow laugh. “When I met her for lunch yesterday, her bag accidentally fell open and I had the great fortune of spotting a box of birth control pills.” He grimaces. “I could’ve gone the rest of my life without seeing that. Although, I suppose I should be glad she’s taking precautions,” he mutters grudgingly, taking another deep swig of beer.

In literally any other situation, Hoseok would’ve guffawed at the stricken expression on Chanyeol’s face. But nothing about this is funny - not to him, at least, for Jimin seems to be enjoying it greatly.

“Do you have a sister, Jimin?” Chanyeol asks.

“Oh, no. A younger brother,” he replies, emerging from his beer with a carefully set straight face. “Would’ve been nice to have a sister, though.”

Both Hoseok and Chanyeol jokingly grimace in unison, before the latter sighs. “It’s not bad having a sister,” he allows, “and Chae is… she’s a good girl. Too good, in fact, which is why I’m not too comfortable about this situationship thing in her life.”

Jimin nods seriously - too dramatically, in Hoseok’s opinion. “Come on,” he ventures, hoping he sounds nonchalant. “She’s not a kid anymore. Let her live a little.”

“I’m not stopping her,” points out Chanyeol, shrugging. “But she refused to talk about it, which isn’t like her. And, really, what do we even know about this hooligan?”

Hoseok chokes. “Hooligan?”

“I don’t know! She did live near Hongdae for a while, remember?” Chanyeol exclaims, leaning forward. “With that weird girl she went to college with?”

“Oh.” Memories return to Hoseok, of Sunmi, Ice and a neighbourhood out of an indie gang film. “Yeah, that was a shithole,” he agrees, shuddering. “It took me a decent bit of effort to get her to move away from there and with Sooah.”

“She and Sooah get along well,” says Jimin encouragingly. “Sooah’s apartment is a lot more leafy now and they’ve started having mimosa nights on Fridays where no one else is apparently invited,” he adds cheerfully.

Hoseok suppresses a smile, knowing this was Chaeyoung’s attempt at reclaiming her friendship with Sooah. Jimin had been sporting enough on the surface but there were a reasonable number of Fridays when Hoseok had received a message out of the blue saying wanna hang with varying degrees of desperation.

“Oh, that’s right,” says Chanyeol. “Sooah is your girlfriend, right?”

“Yeah,” answers Jimin proudly. “We’ve been together since high school. Kind of,” he amends when Hoseok gives him a look.

“Do you think she’ll know who this guy is, that’s macking all over my sister?” he asks, sounding a bit disgruntled. “If they live together and all.”

Jimin grins, while Hoseok closes his eyes and wishes for the ground to swallow him up. “I can ask her,” he says diplomatically.

“Do you even have to?” Hoseok jumps in. “I mean… doesn’t she deserve her privacy?”

“I’m not trying to invade her privacy,” argues Chanyeol, sounding affronted. “But she’s young and trusting and the least I should do as her brother is make sure she’s not being played by some guy looking for a little fun.”

“I don’t think -“ Hoseok begins weakly, but Jimin beats him to it.

“Hoseok hyung is pretty close with her these days,” he interrupts, ignoring Hoseok’s bewilderment at this random turn of conversation. “I’m just saying - I think he looks out for her a fair bit.”

“Of course he does; I’m his best friend,” says Chanyeol easily, making Hoseok’s stomach  roll uncomfortably. “Chae is like family to him. But Jimin’s got a point,” he adds, leaning forward and nudging Hoseok’s knee. “Do you think you can find out more about this guy?”

“There’s an idea!” Jimin crows, looking thrilled. 

Hoseok shoots a glare at Jimin before turning to Chanyeol. “I mean, I - I can try. I dunno,” he mutters, shrugging. “She probably won’t tell me anything.”

Chanyeol sighs and sits back. “Fine. Just - just make sure she’s okay? That she’s not being taken advantage of or something?”

Hoseok bites his lip; he recognises this tone, this specific tone that’s reserved for when Chanyeol reverts to the young boy making up for a lack of a mother and a father who didn’t pay much attention to his daughter. 

“I don’t think you need to worry, hyung,” says Jimin, sounding the most sober he has all evening. “From what I know, this guy sounds like a decent person. And seems to like her quite a bit.”

He throws a casual glance at Hoseok, which Hoseok returns with a grateful nod of his own before changing the topic. 

About an hour later, Hoseok returns to his apartment. He’s barely taken off his shoes when his phone buzzes.

Chae [21:15] Work took forEVER :(( Be there in 10

An involuntary smile creeps up his face and he replies with a string of heart emojis. He leaves the door unlocked and heads in for a shower, the day’s tiredness already threatening to get the best of him.

When he’s clean and fresh again, the en suite drowning in a cloud of steam, Hoseok towel dries his hair and heads out of his bedroom to the inviting scent of ramen. Following it to the kitchen, he sees Chaeyoung, barefoot and still in her work clothes with the Louis Vuitton hoodie he’d left on the sofa earlier today.

“Your apartment is too cold,” she complains when she turns around and spots him making his way to the kitchen. “And this is the softest hoodie I’ve ever worn,” she adds with a sheepish smile as he enters.

“Keep it,” he offers, reaching her and placing his hands on her shoulders to peer over her. “You’re cooking?”

“Well, I’m mixing,” she admits, pointing to the instant ramen packet next to the stove. “But I added bok choy and some minced lamb you had in the fridge, plus an egg for the end so in a way, yeah, I’m cooking.” She flashes him a proud smile and Hoseok’s heart skips a beat.

“Come here,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as she continues stirring. He buries his nose in her hair and inhales the flowery scent, closing his eyes and exhaling, his shoulders relaxing for the first time all day.

They stay there in comfortable silence for a bit, the only sound being the soft bubbling of the soup and the occasional metallic clang of the spatula with the pot.

“How was your day?” Chaeyoung asks after a minute. 

“Fine.” He watches the ramen for a few seconds, the lamb turning a nice brown. “Had rehearsal, then filming and then hung out with Jimin… and Chan.”

Chaeyoung hums, but her slender frame tenses slightly. “How was that?”

“Well…” Hoseok sighs and steps away, waiting until she glances back at him. “He saw your handiwork,” he says, pulling his collar away from his neck.

Chaeyoung gasps, one hand covering her mouth. “Oh, my God,” she exclaims, half-laughing. “What did you tell him?”

“Oh, I evaded. You know, with Jimin’s help,” he answers, rolling his eyes. “And on a completely unrelated note, he said you are in some kind of a thing with some guy, too.”

“Oh, really?” Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows, looking angelic and doe-eyed. “He did?”

“He did,” confirms Hoseok. “In fact, he’s asked me to find out more about this mystery guy and report back to him. It took every bit of my strength to be normal.”

“But -” She frowns. “You suck at being normal.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” she says immediately, turning to switch off the stove before facing him again. “You get all flustered and stammer-y when you’re taken off guard - anyone can see right through you.”

“This feels great.”

Chaeyoung laughs and tugs at his hands, ignoring his sarcastic “no, please, continue”s and reaches up to kiss him on the cheek. “But I’m very impressed that you were normal,” she says finally. “It couldn’t have been easy, especially with my brother.”

Hoseok shakes his head. “It wasn’t. He’s one person who actually can see right through me.”

She bites her lip and frowns slightly. “You know…” She begins, swinging his hands absently, “you can always… tell him. I mean, I know it won’t be easy and it’ll be messy but…” Chaeyoung shrugs and looks at their hands. “It may not be the worst thing.”

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing,” he agrees, “but it might be close. At least for now. This is new and he won’t be expecting it… I mean, how do I just call him and tell him that his little sister, who I was an ass to for years, is my -” 

He breaks off abruptly, his heart thudding when she narrows her eyes slightly, almost amused. You get all flustered when you’re taken off guard. He can’t help but agree with her, and it seems as though she’s thinking the same thing.

“My… reasoning for waking up in the morning,” he finishes, glad to hear his voice is at least steady.

Chaeyoung nods, apparently impressed. “Yeah, I guess that would be a bit out of the blue,” she agrees, shrugging. “And I kind of like this. That it’s just ours for now,” she murmurs, tilting her head up.

Hoseok reaches forward and kisses the tip of her nose. “I get that. Plus, your brother has started really hitting the gym recently so he’s kind of, you know -” He curls his arms and hunches his back “- jacked, so I’d really like to time it correctly so I don’t face any damage.”

She laughs. “He’s not like that. He knows I’m an adult, you know.”

“Think of it as self-preservation.”

“He knows I dated in college, so you’re not my first -”

Hoseok raises his eyebrows, something flipping in his stomach as her cheeks fill up with the lightest tinge of pink.

“- guy that I… cook for and spend the night with.” She winces and looks away as Hoseok snickers, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to him.

“Let’s wait it out,” he concludes, inhaling the scent of her hair again.

“Let’s wait it out.” Chaeyoung hugs him back. “You’ll have to suffer through more days like today, though,” she adds, chuckling.”

Hoseok clicks his tongue dismissively. “I don’t care,” he states, tightening his hold around her. “I’m happy.”

—

Jimin April; Set shortly after Pretty Girls

Jimin enters the apartment with a bang - literally, wincing as the door closes with a loud thud.

“Dude!” Sooah’s voice comes from somewhere behind the coffee table. “Careful!”

“Hoseok hyung ditched me,” complains Jimin, falling on the sofa dramatically. “And now I’m all alone.”

“None taken.”

Jimin frowns and leans across the sofa to see Sooah in tights and a sports bra, stretching on a yoga mat. Her hair is pulled back into an aesthetically messy ponytail, with a headband keeping her bangs out of her face. She looks like a dream and suddenly, Hoseok going back home doesn’t seem like a big deal.

“Didn’t go to yoga class today?” he asks, getting up and walking over to where she’s deep in a downward dog position. 

“No, I got too late,” she mutters, sounding disappointed. “But I knew I’d feel guilty if I didn’t work out at all today, so -” She finishes her sentence by raising her leg into a graceful arabesque behind her.

“Turn your leg out a bit,” instructs Jimin. “It’ll help work your glutes as well.”

“I am turning it out.”

“No, you’re not. Wait -” He hops around behind her and wraps his fingers around her lower calf, slowly turning her leg out. “All the way from your hip, come on.” One hand trails down her leg and stops inside her thigh, gently squeezing it before helping her twist it.

Sooah chuckles. “Subtle, Chim.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m just helping you stretch,” he says innocently, stepping forward so he’s standing between her legs, his hips brushing against her crotch.

“Totally. That’s all you’re helping me - ow, Chim, that’s too high!” 

Jimin jerks back just in time to avoid her leg as it comes down in a flash. She kneels on the mat and turns to face him with a scowl. 

“Seriously?”

“Seriously what?” He whines, joining her on the mat and lying down, pulling her down with him. “I’ve missed you,” he mutters, squeezing her waist and nuzzling her neck.

Sooah sighs as he throws a leg over her hips. “I missed you, too, sweetie. You know, since… yesterday.”

“Too long,” he says, hearing his voice muffled.

“Fair enough.” She pats his hand. “What happened?”

“You smell nice,” he says instead.

She scoffs. “I’m sweating, you weirdo,” she retorts, pushing him away slightly so she’s facing him. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he begins, sighing hugely. “Hoseok hyung had to lie his way out of admitting to Chaeyoung's brother that they’re banging and while it did seem like he was pretty close to passing out, I guess it was kind of…” He squeezes his eyes shut to think of the word and opens them to see Sooah’s face inches away from his own, propped up on her elbow.

“Kind of…” She prompts, raising her eyebrows.

“Kind of cute,” he finishes, turning on his side to mirror her position. “They’re new to dating and they’re hiding it and everything…” Jimin trails off, suddenly aware that he’s pouting.

“Chim,” says Sooah, tugging at the strings of his hoodie, “are you asking me, in a very roundabout way, if our relationship is still exciting?”

“No! No, no, no, no, no -” Jimin breaks off, feeling the heat creep up his face and leans forward, nudging her on her back and rolling on top of her. “I know our relationship is still exciting. I’m dating Kim Sooah,” he informs her.

She flicks his temple, chuckling fondly. “Yeah, but we’re not hiding our relationship from anyone. Except, you know, the world.”

“I don’t want to hide it from anyone,” he declares. “I’ll tell everyone - I’ll put it up on Instagram right now. Don’t doubt me, Kim Sooah.”

“Never, Park Jimin.” She pats his shoulder. “Alright, get up. I have to go shower.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, just stay here,” he whines again, letting his arms buckle and collapsing on top of her. “Tell me you think our relationship is still exciting,” he demands, trying to keep a straight face over Sooah’s laughter.

“God, Chim - I’m under you!” she exclaims, half-giggling. “Get off!”

“Not until you say it. Say it, say it, say it - whoops, deadweight -”

“You’re crushing me -” Her hands go down to his torso and her fingers find their way under his t-shirt.

“First you have to - no!” He laughs involuntarily, half-shrieking as she tickles up until he rolls off her onto the yoga mat. “That’s cheating!”

“Deadweight is cheating,” she counters, getting to her feet and ruffling his hair before heading into the bathroom. When she returns twenty minutes later, she walks into the living room and halts. “Seriously?”

Jimin tilts his head back in the cobra pose. “Stretching just looked so good,” he admits sheepishly. He moves into a pigeon pose, one on each side while she heads into the kitchen and comes back with a bottle of cold water. Finishing up with a nice hamstring stretch, Jimin stands up and joins her on the sofa.

“Hi,” he says, placing an arm around her shoulders.

“Hi,” she replies, smiling up and leaning into him. “What’s up?”

“Not much. Just had a long day. Or I didn’t, actually,” he says a moment later. “But I’m still tired. Dunno why.”

Sooah frowns as he speaks, squeezing his thigh affectionately. “Have you eaten today?”

“Yeah, some. Had some sushi earlier today. And then a slice of pizza at Chanyeol hyung’s.” He pulls her in a bit closer and rests his chin on the top of her head. “I don’t know. Just one of those days, I guess.”

“Yeah.” She traces random patterns on his thigh for a few seconds, both of them just drinking in each other’s company in silence. “You know what might make you feel better?” she asks after a moment.

“What’s that?”

She pulls away slightly so she can look up at him. “I was thinking about it today, anyway… and it might take your mind off everything,” she adds, raising her eyebrows and shifting so she’s sitting on her knees.

Jimin frowns as she presses a light kiss to his lips. “I’d love to… but I’m honestly really tired.”

“Oh, I know.” She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to do any of the work. You just need to sit back,” she says, standing up and gently pushing him back against the sofa, “and relax.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jimin sits back on the sofa, his head resting against the back of it with his eyes closed.

“God, you were right,” he murmurs. “This is actually so relaxing.”

“I know, right?” 

He feels her reach over and straighten the edge of his face mask, soft and fragrant against his skin. The cucumber slices feel light and cool on his eyes and he brings the glass to his face, searching for the straw and sipping the fruity mimosa.

“Sooah,” he says, hearing her hum. He searches for her hand on the sofa and slips his fingers into us. “You know you’re the most exciting person I know, right?”

She chuckles softly, sounding just as cosy and comfortable as he feels. “Yeah, skincare nights really get that adrenaline going.”

“Totally,” he jokes back, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing it. “Best kind of night.”

—

Taehyung April; Set a month after She’s In The Rain

The day is young, and the air is ripe with hope, potential and expectation. Up ahead, the track clears as mechanics, team principals and the press drift away, leaving the path ahead long and winding, with nothing but sixty odd laps between her and P1. Anything can happen. 

Her brows furrow slightly. She knows the track and she’s raced hundred of laps around it; she knows what it’s capable of. It’s given her mostly good races, but at the core of its design, the potential is rife for chaos.

Bang.

The door is thrown open with force and kicked close as they stumble into the room. Their lips don’t leave each other’s, only passion and reckless abandon driving their movements. Taehyung pushes her back against the wall, swallowing her gasp, tightening his hands on her hips as she pulls at his sweater.

“Are we still fighting?” he asks against her lips. Their hands are everywhere - only part of his brain can even focus on the words he’s saying. “Because we should - probably - talk about it,” he says, punctuating every word with a kiss to her skin and helping her take off her long-sleeved t-shirt.

“Forget it,” she murmurs, kissing him back, her chest pressing against his. “I can’t even remember what we were fighting about,” she says, sighing when he nips at her lower lip and tugging at his sweater again. “Take this off.”

They stagger further into the room of their BnB, hands everywhere and articles of clothing being discarded at every step. The Scotland rain outside comes down in sheets, white and thick, the sound deafening. Their room is warm in comparison, dimly lit with just the fireplace going, the huge bed taking up most of the space on the wooden floor. 

The speed is… fast. She’s like the wind; she feels one with the wind, until another car appears in her side mirror and she knows she has to buck up. Push, they tell her on the radio, and she tries. But other drivers know to push as well and she knows she has to try something different. Maybe with the tyres, or even a surprise pit stop. She needs to be in control.

Taehyung feels himself hard against her waist, her fingernails scraping against his scalp before they snake down his bare torso, her hands on every inch of skin. She nips at his lower lip and his grip on her hips tightens, before he wraps one hand around her thigh and lifts her off the ground. Her sound of surprise is so arousing; she tightens her arms around his neck as he brings them to the bed, lowering her onto it when she pulls away and stops him.

“One second,” she mutters, panting and swinging her legs off the side of the bed. Taehyung frowns in confusion as she pulls open the drawer on her bedside table and retrieves something before tossing it to him without warning. He catches it without difficulty, though, noting how glassy her eyes already are, her nipples erect and her lean, tan midriff the colour of honey.

He wants to devour her. He wants to worship her till the end of time and it’s only when she raises her eyebrows and tilts her chin at the object that he looks down to see his Polaroid, the one she’d gifted him years ago. Taehyung meets her eyes, silently confirming if she’s asking him what he thinks she’s asking. In answer, Dilara tosses her long curls off her shoulder and holds his gaze, eyes blazing.

He stares at her for a moment before raising the camera. Click. He doesn’t wait to check the picture that’s come out; letting it fall to the floor, he walks over to her to kiss her again, one hand still holding the camera. He lets himself be steered onto the edge of the bed where he sits and Dilara goes down on her knees. The moment her lips touch his cock, his breathing stutters and his eyes flutter shut. Snaking one hand down into her thick hair, he looks down to see her eyes on him as she sucks him off.

Click.

Cars are speeding around the track now. She can see them through the slit in her visor, across the misshapen circuit, most of them behind her. The competition is at its peak now and everyone is racing to win. Rainclouds appear in the sky and there’s a moment of panic, but she powers through. She makes split decision after decision, choosing to change her tyres, choosing to come into the pit at a risky moment, but committing to each at every point. 

It’s exhilarating. Every rainy lap is closer to the finish line, closer to a win, closer to the art of racing in the rain. Even the spray clouding her vision from the only car in front of her is a challenge, brings her closer to the car and to the sport she’s given everything to.

The rain lashes outside, so loud that Dilara’s sounds almost get lost in the din. The bed and floor are littered with pictures, all in different stages of development, but Taehyung hasn’t stopped to look at a single one. Her back is beautiful, curving before him with long locks of hair flowing down them. He holds her hips as he moves, his grunts and her whimpers in sync, so messy, so transcendent.

Click.

The camera whines as another picture comes out, but he ignores it as she crawls forward and turns to lie on her back. She beckons to him, her neck and chest glowing with a thin sheen of sweat, her breathing rapid. Taehyung lowers himself to kiss her, their naked bodies flush against each other as he slides into her again, wet and warm, and she moans into his mouth.

“Faster,” she whispers against his mouth, lifting her hips off the bed into his so he bottoms out. He obliges; he’s raring to go, every thrust bringing him closer to edge. Dilara closes her eyes as he sits up slightly so he can pound into her faster, one hand clutching the pillow and the other moving down from her hair to her breast, squeezing it lightly as he continues to fuck her.

Click.

He drops the camera to his side, all his focus on her now for this last bit. Her legs wrap around his waist; he unhooks one to bring in over his shoulder, leaning forward so he can watch her come undone, moaning loud and long as she finishes on his cock, her back arching until she falls back on the bed. Taehyung begins moving again, her wetness and residual whimpers keeping him going until she opens her eyes and he meets them, dark and blazing, and he pulls out at the last moment, emptying himself on her lean, smooth, honey-coloured torso.

Dilara rests her head on the pillow, panting and closing her eyes. Taehyung catches his breath, his eyes running over the strips of white over her body before he reaches for the camera.

It’s a win. It’s indescribable, every single time. No matter how exhausted, no matter how stressed, it’s all paid off because it’s a win. There’s a trophy, there’s applause, there’s adulation, there’s validation that she belongs here after all, that this was where she is meant to be, this is what it’s all been for.

Her heart hurts, but it’s not a bad pain. She wants the win, every win, and she wants to be in the sport, for her love for it knows no bounds. She gets emotional, too, standing up on the podium and holding the trophy up high, knowing she would do anything for this feeling the rest of her life. She loves it, she craves it, and she can’t live without it.

Taehyung sits by the edge of the bed, clothed in a flimsy white button down and baggy joggers, the stack of pictures in his hand. The sky outside has darkened but the rain is as heavy as ever. The glow of the fire before him flickers calmly in contrast on the first picture he picks up, of Dilara on the bed, naked and kneeling, looking just above the lens of the camera. The dark spot on top of her breast is the beginning of a hickey; he gazes as it for a few seconds before calmly tossing it into the fire.

He flips through them silently, images of their tryst borne from a moment that was initially headed elsewhere. She’s right; he really can’t remember what they’d been fighting about. The pictures are in no particular order, some of them more haphazard than the others, but each capturing moments of passion that can’t be explained in anything other than stills taken by a camera.

She’d gifted it to him right before their first date, he remembers suddenly, as he watches one of the last pictures curl up and blacken in the fire. We’ve come a long way, my love. The shower inside the en suite stops just as the last, lone picture remains in his hand, taken after they’d cleaned up and he’d climbed off the bed. Dilara had sat up on her knees among the sheets, looking out at the expanse of the Scottish highlands and the torrents that drowned it. 

He’d watched her for a few seconds, taking in her silhouette against the grey landscape outside. It was a sight worthy of committing to memory, and he’d raised the camera for the last time and snapped a picture of her.

He’s interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps and he turns to see her walk out of the en suite, her curls tied up in a bun and the rest of her wrapped in a towel, droplets of water still glistening on her shoulders. Taehyung hadn’t heard the sliding door open; he wonders how long she’s been standing there but then she gives him a small smile, and he returns it. Slipping the picture into his pocket, he steps out of the room to allow her to change in privacy.

There’s nothing like winning. The feeling stays, the pride remains and there’s hope. But there’s also a moment, a time of the evening after the race where the celebrations are done and the congratulations have dried up, that the race starts being replayed, and the risks and gambles come back into focus. And then there’s the feeling - no, the knowledge - that this isn’t the end. This is a race, just one race, but the rest of the calendar is yet to come. It’s grounding in reality like nothing else, and the win is diluted.

Taehyung watches the rain, now a bit slower but still coming down, dry and toasty in a tan sweater in the balcony of their room. There’s a song in here somewhere, Namjoon would say and he’d probably write it, too. Taehyung tries to do the same but every word he thinks of, every line or rudimentary melody is tinged with sadness so he quickly abandons the exercise.

He feels a soft nudge on his arm and turns to see Dilara join him, a small glass of whiskey in each hand. Her hair is loose again (and he guesses it’s to shield her face and neck from the cold), and she’s covered up with a Red Bull hoodie and grey joggers.

He takes the whiskey she offers, kissing her softly on the cheek as she comes to stand next to him. Dilara looks like she’s about to say something; Taehyung gives her his full attention, waiting. A few moments later, though, she gives a small shake of her head and leans into him, waiting for him to wrap an arm around her as they watch the rain together.

—

Namjoon January (Set a couple of months after A Stormy Night)

Namjoon takes a deep breath. None of this was going according to plan.

The restaurant was highly rated, the ambience cozy and warm, Kaya's two other classmates-turned-friends had reached on time, Taehyung and Dilara had successfully picked up the birthday cake, the birthday girl looked like a million bucks and the jazz singer playing in a different area of the restaurant was just adding enough to the night without being disruptive.

And yet, somehow, despite all his efforts to make tonight about her, within the first hour of the classy and intimate birthday dinner he'd planned, the restaurant had become overrun with guests, some of them clearly famous, and noise and singing and generally the opposite of cozy and intimate.

It may still have been okay, given they were in a corner of the restaurant not directly in view of the entrance. But Dilara had invariably been recognised which only served to increase the excitement in the place - Namjoon had deduced from the general atmosphere that the dozen guests that had arrived at once were some kind of sports team that were being celebrated, and Dilara's presence was only adding to it.

Maybe she senses his train of thought, for she catches his eye from where she's awkwardly posing for a picture with two of the sports team members. She shoots him an apologetic look and makes her way to him the moment the picture is taken, ducking her head slightly as she passes othr guests.

“I'm sorry,” is the first thing she says, sighing. “It's the England cricket team. They just won the Ashes and… it's a pretty big deal. Nobody thought they would.” She folds her arms across her chest and lightly bumps his shoulder. “Is Kaya okay?”

“Yeah, she's fine,” he mutters, turning slightly when he spots his girlfriend exiting the ladies’ room, fluffing her long hair over her shoulder. “And… don't be sorry,” he adds, sighing. “It's not your fault. I just had such a specific vision of how this was supposed to be, you know? Hey,” he says with forced cheerfulness when Kaya reaches them.

“You're annoyed,” she says immediately, and Dilara stifles a snicker when Namjoon frowns exaggeratedly and shakes his head.

“What? Of course not. Why would I be - okay, fine, a little bit.” He looks away when Kaya grabs his hand lovingly and squeezes it. “I just wasn't expecting…” He trails off, gesturing vaguely to the chaos in the restaurant. A little way away, Taehyung is in an animated conversation with one of Kaya's friends who'd rushed up to take a selfie with one of the cricketers. There is free-flowing beer and tipsy toasts being made in honour of the team, and one of the cricketers seems to be getting pressured to get up on the stage, with “Sing, Brody, sing!” chorusing over and over by a handful of people.

“It's not that bad,” says Kaya. “It's a little louder, but…” She turns back to the table where the remains of their dinner is yet to be picked up by a waiter. “The food was amazing. And I know you loved the whiskey sour you ordered.”

“Sure, but…”

“If it helps, I think the team looks kind of annoyed by the attention,” guesses Dilara, waving hesitantly when someone comes up to them and squeals at the sight of her.

“Come on, it could be worse,” says Kaya to him, her voice lower. “At least you guys weren't recognised.”

Namjoon nods, acknowledging this begrudgingly. Taehyung, who had already made friends with the waiter and the hostess even before the dinner had gone south, is now standing with the same friend of Kaya's and another cricketer, singing along to the soulful song that this Brody is now singing slightly off key on the stage. There are people across the restaurant who are filming him, looking beyond thrilled at the sight, and a gaggle of girls doing an exaggerated groupie bit at the handsome cricketer.

Namjoon feels his mood sour with every passing minute, even as Kaya leans against him and taps her foot absently with the music. 

“You don’t have cricket in Korea, do you?” she asks after a few minutes, absently.

“Nope. Kind of glad about that right now. Or maybe not,” he adds suddenly. “At least then I’d know what the big deal is.”

Kaya gives him a look. “It’s not that bad. It’s a bit of extra people and a little more chatter and -“ 

She breaks off and both of them wince at the sudden uproar of a victory song being sung by the entire restaurant. A redheaded cricketer is being grabbed by two of his teammates by the shoulders and the three grown men, arm in arm, are doing some sort of dance as they hold jugs of beers with their free hands.

Namjoon exhales slowly through his nose. From across the room, he spots Taehyung apparently starting to realise what he already has, that this night is no longer salvageable. He catches Namjoon’s eye and, like his girlfriend a few minutes ago, he makes his way over apologetically.

“Sorry, hyung,” he says as soon as he reaches, handsomely tossing a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. “The captain’s wife -“ He points to a blonde lady laughing at talking to another woman “- said they’re celebrating and in her words, they’re just warming up.” He purses his lips sympathetically.

Kaya punches his shoulder as if to get him to shut up and then turns to Namjoon, ignoring Taehyung’s dramatic gasp. “It's not a big deal,” she repeats clearly, raising her voice to be heard over the noise. “It's not even that bad - maybe we should go and dance or -”

But she's interrupted once again by a loud screech of feedback from the mic. They look over to see a young member of the cricket team up on the low stage, tapping on the mic and looking thrilled with the attention. He can't be older than twenty-one; something about his cocky lopsided grin makes Namjoon's blood boil. 

The cricketer starts off with a speech, slurring a bit but clearly saying all the right things while people switch between hooting and paying rapt attention. A little way away, Namjoon spots Dilara listening as well, clapping once in a while as well; it's the only thing that calms him down slightly. He hasn’t watched a day of cricket in his life, but he can recognise a big win when he sees one, no matter how begrudgingly he may admit it.

The speech ends with a few more cheers and some hooting and before they know it, another round of Brody, Brody commences and the same handsome blue-eyed cricketer is pushed up on stage by some of his teammates, where he bends slightly to talk into the mic.

Namjoon rolls his eyes as he begins rhapsodizing about their win, knowing somewhere that he’s coming off as disgruntled and extremely unattractive. As if on cue, he feels Kaya link her fingers with his. 

“Come with me,” she mutters. Without waiting for a response, she begins maneuvering through the crowd and pulling him along, until they’re out of the restaurant and in the cold hits him like he’s been plunged into an ice bath. Exhaling and seeing his breath come out in mist, he looks up in confusion to see Kaya pull her coat tighter around her.

“Okay,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “What’s wrong? Because this can’t all be about one ruined dinner. I know you have a thicker skin than this.”

Namjoon considers lying. But one look at Kaya, her dark eyes and teacher-like expression, and something tugs at his heart.

“I wanted to give you a nice birthday.”

“It was nice,” she says instantly. “The food was amazing, we got lucky with Dilara and Tae being here the same weekend as my conference, you’re here -“ She sighs and drops her arms to her sides. “We’re in London in January and happen to be out on the one night that it’s a little less freezing. So… what is it?”

Namjoon looks away, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The streets are deserted and the river rumbles in the distance, the only sounds coming faintly from inside the restaurant. He wants to tell her - but if they go down this road, there’s no coming back.

“I wanted this birthday,” he says slowly, swallowing, “to be a nice birthday.” He waits as her frown deepens and then fades away, the realisation dawning. He looks at the ground; even admitting it feels like defeat of a kind.

“Because you won’t be here on my next one,” she says quietly, nodding.

“Or the one after that. Not unless you come to Seoul and I take a vacation day on the same day, which is -” He shrugs, biting his lip. “And it’s not going to be like previous birthdays we’ve spent apart, where I can still do stuff from another country and - and have a date on video call or something. This is going to be - I’m going to miss -”

He breaks off, pressing his hands to his forehead in frustration, knowing he’s effectively ruined the night more than any number of cricket teams by bringing up this topic.

Kaya comes closer; he can hear the click of her heels as she slowly stops in front of him. “You know that I know you don’t have a choice, right?”

“I know, but -”

“So if you’re thinking that you’ll be a bad boyfriend or if you think I’m thinking that, just stop. Namjoon, I know you’re struggling with this and I don’t blame you. I have no idea what it’s like for you,” she admits, reaching up to bring his hands down. “And I’m not asking you to ignore your feelings or to pretend like everything’s great, but I need you to…” She bites her lip and he can tell she’s debating whether to say it.

“Need me to what?” Namjoon asks warily.

“I need you to try,” she says softly, squeezing his hands. “Just try to see the good, try to find a happy moment when you can, because…” She licks her lips and he does a double take when her eyes suddenly shine and they look wet. “Joon, I’m worried for you. I don’t know what it’s like but I can’t imagine it’ll get easier if you’re so hard on yourself all the time.”

It’s a lot to unpack. For a moment, Namjoon wants to break down, right here in her arms and ask her to take him home, far away from all his responsibilities. But that would only worry her more and in any case, it’s a crazy thought. So he closes his eyes and presses his forehead to hers.

“I’m happy now,” he mutters, smiling a little when she scoffs.

“Yeah, you really look it.” But she leans into him as well before reaching up and kissing him. “Now that I’m officially in my thirties, I can safely say I have a lot more life experience than you, little one. So you have to listen to me.”

That makes him laugh. He tugs her closer and wraps an arm around her waist, the other automatically taking her hand in his. “I’m dating an older woman now, officially.”

“You were dating an older woman the day you asked me to be your girlfriend,” she points out, her face easing up slightly. “Actually, it wasn’t too far from here, was it?”

“It was in front of the Langham, so, yeah.” He nods as a guitar begins playing inside the restaurant and their feet move automatically, steps small and uncoordinated. “I found a happy moment that day,” he murmurs into her hair, inhaling the coconut and vanilla scent.

“Yeah, you did,” she agrees. “Wasn’t that hard, was it?”

“Are you kidding? I was so nervous. I was just a kid and you were this sexy older woman that was completely out of my league.”

“Okay, we’re going to stop saying older woman now,” she decides, moving away slightly and looking up at him with narrowed eyes. At that moment, a familiar voice drifts from inside. She raises her eyebrows and smiles. “The kid’s got a great voice.”

“You should hear him in the shower,” says Namjoon, but nods in agreement as Taehyung’s baritone singing a jazzy blues song lights up their little corner of the street.

“Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone, okay?” he murmurs after a few moments, into her hair again. He feels her stiffen slightly but then she nods into his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I won’t miss you at all,” she assures him. She stops moving, however, and slowly steps away. “Do you want to get out of here? Go get a hot chocolate or something? Because I’m fucking freezing.”

Namjoon can’t think of anything he’d like more than to be with her alone. “I’m in,” he agrees, linking his fingers with hers. “Just need to make one phone call.”

Inside the restaurant, Dilara nods into the phone. “Yeah, no problem,” she says, smiling as she catches Taehyung’s eyes where he’s on the small stage, crooning away to John Baptiste. “Don’t worry, Namjoon, I know you’ll pay me back. I know where you live,” she teases. “You guys have fun.”

As she hangs up, she leans against the wall and watches her boyfriend, tall and handsome, singing in the dim lighting. The celebration has now mellowed to a nice, festive evening and she requests a passing waiter for a glass of wine. One of the cricketers she’d taken a group photo with joins her, looking happy and winded.

“This might be the one spot in the whole place where you can get a moment of peace,” he remarks, running a hand through his black hair and turning around to lean against the wall like she is. “Hope you don’t mind?” he asks belatedly.

“Not at all. Congratulations, by the way. Brody, I presume,” she ventures, raising her eyebrows as he nods good-naturedly. “Right. Seems like you were a big deal in this tournament.”

“Just a bit. But everyone was,” he replies easily. “You didn’t watch?” 

“Oh. Um, I followed it a bit here and there. I don’t get a lot of time to watch television,” she admits sheepishly.

“No worries. The parties are better than the matches,” he points out. “Must be the same for Formula One, I assume. Komyshan, right?”

Dilara nods, her face getting hot and the embarrassment at her lack of awareness of cricket increasing. “That’s what the commentators call me.”

“I get it. Brody is what the commentators call me,” he says, blue eyes twinkling.

Cheeks still warm, she sticks out her hand. “Dilara,” she says.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, taking her hand. “I’m James.”

—

Mornings were normally hell for Yoongi, usually because he'd only managed a few hours of sleep before the road called again. This morning, however, he found it hard to leave the warmth of his bed for entirely different reasons. He'd spent the majority of his night vividly fantasizing about his coworker. It was possibly the best, or worst, depending on your point of view, night's sleep he'd ever had.

Yoongi's body ignited from the waist down, an inferno spreading from his loins to his toes, constricting him with intense heat. He was engulfed by Adrienne. Her entire body pulsed and moved with his rhythm, her contracting muscles clasping him tightly. Languid stroke followed stroke between them. The virtual Adrienne, a product of his dream, moaned with each touch, whispering his name with fevered intensity as her muscles tensed and trembled around his length. Then, without warning, his lungs burning for oxygen, sweat beading on his brow, Yoongi came undone.

The sensation was too raw, too real, and Yoongi jackknifed upright in bed, heavy with the knowledge that he was having a sex dream about his co-worker and very much aware of the fact that he was granite hard, an erection straining the cotton weave fibers of his boxers. Confused, he scanned his bedroom to confirm he was indeed in his own bed and hadn't done something incredibly stupid.

Relief washed over him as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The familiar soft snores from his roommate's end of the room answered his silent plea. He was relieved, of course, but hyper-aware that there was no way he could go back to bed now. Not with his cock throbbing, begging to be attended to, and visions of Andy, bare as the day she was born, flaring up in his mind every time he closed his eyes. Without any other options, Yoongi pushed himself out of bed and groggily padded towards the living room, grabbing his laptop. If he couldn't sleep, at least he could get some work done until they had to head out for the day.

So, there was no surprise that he was damn near cantankerous during the beginning of their schedules. He barely spoke during interviews, curled up in the back of their travel van with his hood over his head and a posture that screamed ‘Do Not Talk To Me’. The other members noticed and knew to stay out of his way as much as they could to avoid setting him off. The only time he seemed to perk up slightly was when they were on their way to the studio to film some of the album-making process for their year-end DVD. Going to the studio meant he’d get to see Andy, and that eased his irritable mood only by a little.

He found disappointment, however, when they arrived at their shared studio only to find a crew setting up to film and no sign of Adrienne. He didn’t ask where she was but instead threw himself onto the couch and allowed the staff to finish setting up and fit him with a mic before everyone cleared out, leaving only the boys and the camera person. Yoongi knew that he would eventually lead the conversation since he had contributed the most to the album's formation. But, well, he didn’t want to. Without Andy being around, Yoongi's mood worsened as he glanced around the room, memories of Adrienne consuming his thoughts. The scent of her perfume, from when she'd leaned over him at the computer, filled his nose as he watched Namjoon idly tinker at the desk. The weight of her body pressed against him when they kissed for the first time, and the sensation of her hands all over him, filled him with warmth once again when he looked towards the far wall. Even sitting on the couch called to memory all the time they’d spent talking up until the wee hours of the morning when inspiration refused to pay each of them a visit.

There was no place he could look in this room that didn’t remind him of Adrienne, and Yoongi began to feel suffocated by the thought of her. He warned no one but quickly stood up and exited the room to take a deep breath and press the back of his head against the wall just outside the door.

“Yoongi-ssi?”

Adrienne’s familiar melodic tone made Yoongi’s eyes snap open, and he allowed himself to genuinely smile at her as she slowly walked toward him with two lattes in her hands. She was clearly unaware they were filming today, dressed in simple leggings and a hoodie two sizes too big. Yoongi still found her beautiful.

“Are you waiting for me? I know I’m late but you don’t have to wait for me outside,” Adrienne giggled and handed one of the lattes to him. “Here, I got you a caramel macchiato, don't be mad.”

Yoongi shook his head and smiled as he took the plastic cup from her hands. Taking a sip, he moved to stop Adrienne before she went into the studio, hoping to warn her, but she was already inside before he got the chance.

“Oh,” Yoongi heard her gasp from the other side of the door, “Do you guys need the room today? I just need something from the computer and I’ll be out of the way,” she said quickly as she moved toward the computer.

“Actually,” Namjoon spoke up just as Yoongi opened his mouth to answer her, “We need you here today too. We have to film some scenes for our DVD; they want to film us working on the album and just talking about the direction we’re taking. So we need you.”

“O-okay,” Andy stammered as Namjoon gestured for her to take the seat at the computer desk. “There was a song that I wanted all of you to record something for, maybe this is a good time,” she muttered to herself and swiveled around to open a few files on the computer.

Yoongi fell silent again as he resumed his place at the far end of the couch and took a long sip of the coffee Andy had given him. The younger members seated next to him noticed that he was the only one who had received a drink and complained until he finally gave it to them to share. He wouldn’t show it, but he was happy seeing Adrienne at the head of the room, even if that meant sitting so close to Namjoon, who took every chance he had to strike up a conversation with her. The room was lively and loud in true Bangtan fashion when the camera crew returned to begin filming. Everything seemed to start out smoothly, with Namjoon and Yoongi doing most of the talking while Adrienne answered a few questions and played snippets of the finished songs they had.

However, when the camera centered on her and the crew directed her to give a short explanation of the songs she composed from scratch, Adrienne's eyes went wide. Yoongi recognized her blank expression by the way she fumbled with her hoodie's hem, but she attempted to answer anyway.

“Uhm. Well, t-this...um song um.” Adrienne stuttered, fumbling her short sentence until the camera person signaled her to stop.

“I’m sorry, but do you even speak Korean?” one of the staff members asked impatiently.

“I-I do. Well, a little bit, I mean. I’m still learning and it’s hard,” Adrienne answered meekly.

“Andy-” Yoongi’s voice cut the tension that was beginning to develop between Adrienne and the staff members who didn’t know her. “Maybe you should take a break? I can explain the songs I worked on until you come back."

“That’s a good idea,” she replied and quickly got up to move outside before the staff had the chance to say anything else.

She was gone for only a few minutes before Namjoon followed, announcing he'd check on her as he slid out the door. This left Yoongi wondering why he had to wait until she was alone to make sure she was okay. He pushed those thoughts away and continued doing what he did best: talk about music and his many inspirations until everyone around him was tired of hearing him speak. There was almost an audible sigh of relief when Adrienne reappeared in the doorway, with Namjoon following closely behind her. Both wore dopey smiles that discomfited Yoongi.

Adrienne's confidence soared after her brief time outside. Yoongi didn’t know what Namjoon had said to her that put her in such a good mood, but whatever it was, it surely seemed to work because she had virtually no trouble explaining her thoughts this time around. Of course, her sentences were still somewhat limited, but whenever she faltered, Namjoon was right there to translate the English she whispered into his ear. They made an efficient team, and the remainder of the filming went by just as smoothly as the beginning.

The film crew thanked the group and Adrienne before breaking down their set and leaving. There was barely a second of time for the boys to settle before one of their managers came to herd them back out to the car. Adrienne looked in Yoongi’s direction as they were on their way with an expression that read she wanted to talk, and he contemplated making them late for the rest of the schedule when she began to speak. Except she wasn’t looking at Yoongi when she mouthed the words ‘I’ll text you’; she was looking a few inches above his head at Namjoon, who nodded quickly and gave her a wide smile before heading down the hallway. In fact, she didn’t even make eye contact with Yoongi at all as he left the room and she turned back to the computer.

If there was a mood worse than pissed, Yoongi was in it for the rest of the day.

Adrienne hadn’t been aware of Yoongi or his reaction to her not speaking to him on the way out that day. She was far too focused on the information Namjoon had revealed to her while they were outside the studio.

“Andy, are you alright?” Namjoon said cautiously, not wanting to startle her as he approached Adrienne, who was crouched against the wall with her head cradled in her hands.

“Hm? Oh Joonie, it’s you,” Adrienne exhaled and nodded quickly. “I’ll be fine, I just need a few minutes to think.”

Namjoon nodded a few times then moved to take a seat next to her. “You don't need to push yourself, Suga-hyung can handle all the talking if you want him to. I think he’d be happy to, actually.”

“I don’t want him to, though,” Andy replied with a groan. “I don’t even know why I couldn’t think of anything to say. I don't have a problem arguing for my songs with Yoongi or any of the other producers here. When they put that camera in my face, I just… went blank. They probably think I’m a talentless loser that’s only working here because I’m sleeping with your boss.” Andy groaned again and pulled her knees against her chest.

Namjoon laughed silently before resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “There’s no way they think that, have you met our boss?”

Adrienne smiled and shook her head at the ridiculousness of her thought. “Well maybe not, but they’re probably wondering the same thing I am.”

“What’s that?”

“Why am I here? I’ve been trying to figure that out since I got here, and I just don’t get it. No one I talked to when I got here seemed to know anything about me, and yet your boss offered me such an important job. Don’t you find that weird?”

Namjoon stroked his chin a few times and looked over towards Adrienne, who still seemed genuinely confused. “Not really. I can tell you why you’re here: it’s because of me.”

“What?” Adrienne questioned.

“I started following your Soundcloud a few years ago; I’m actually kind of a fan of yours,” Namjoon answered sheepishly. “Anyway, when we completed our last album, PD-nim once mentioned bringing someone new in to help with production. I thought of you immediately and convinced him to give you a chance. It was a fight, but he gave in eventually.”

Andy was speechless at the end of his explanation, at such a loss for words, the only way she could accurately express her gratitude was to open her arms and pull Namjoon towards her in a smothering hug. She knew there would be stares and whispers thrown in their direction if anyone happened to see them in the hallway, but Adrienne didn’t care. She was feeling so many emotions, there was no way she'd be able to tell him just how much his confidence in her abilities meant to her, even if he had tried.

It was this revelation that gave Adrienne the confidence boost to finish her filming, and having Adrienne hug him put Namjoon higher than cloud nine for the rest of the day. He had honestly considered giving up on pursuing her, especially with Yoongi's lately improved mood, but that hug rekindled his hope. Maybe it wasn’t too late for him to tell her how he felt.

Adrienne was not aware of any of this; on the other hand, she was too busy falling in love with her music again. The album was nearly done, which gave her more time to work on her personal tracks when she had the free time.

It was three in the afternoon on a Friday when Adrienne finally found herself back in the company studio, working alone on a track that she and Yoongi had composed together. She wondered exactly where Yoongi was since they’d agreed to meet today; then she realized that she hadn’t really seen or heard from him for most of that week. After they filmed on Monday, he was practically a ghost, and Adrienne didn’t even notice until that moment. She thought about calling him but decided against it and pulled her phone out to text him instead.

Adrienne: Yoongi-ah! Where are you, aren’t we working today?

A few minutes felt like an eternity before Adrienne's phone finally buzzed.

Yoongi: studio. Adrienne: ??? that’s where I am. Yoongi: my studio.

His cryptic, final response left her puzzled; he didn't answer any of Adrienne's subsequent text messages, which both worried and annoyed her. She didn’t know anything about him having a separate workspace apart from the one they shared. With a frustrated huff, Adrienne pushed herself away from the computer desk and went to hunt down her missing partner. After opening many doors that all revealed empty conference rooms, Adrienne finally decided to swallow her pride and ask one of the staff members to point her in the right direction.

She found the room eventually, a small space not too far away from the room they practice in, and saw Yoongi seated in a mesh office chair nodding along to whatever was playing in his headphones. Moving slowly, Adrienne tiptoed as quietly as she could until she was directly behind him, wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his neck. She wanted to respect his decision not to date, but she really couldn’t help wanting to wrap herself around him every time she saw him. A feeling that was only intensified since she hadn’t seen him all week.

Adrienne expected him to be annoyed or even upset when she pulled her face up and pressed a cheek against his jawline. Instead of scolding her or sighing dramatically like he usually would, Yoongi just sat, staring straight ahead. He didn’t react at all until Adrienne jostled his shoulder and made him turn around to face her.

“Do you need something?” He asked with an icy glare that confused Adrienne.

“Um. Well, yeah, we’re supposed to be working today, aren't we?”

“I am working.”

“I can see that, but I thought we would be finishing that song together?”

Yoongi pressed his lips together and swiveled the other way. “I changed my mind,” he stated simply before putting the headphones back on his head.

Adrienne squinted her eyes in confusion, trying to piece together exactly which one of her actions could have garnered this kind of reaction. He couldn’t have been this upset just because she hugged him, could he?

“O—kay, well, I’m here now. I can help out if you want-”

“I really don’t need your help, Andy,” Yoongi snapped. “I can handle it by myself, so don’t worry about it.”

That outburst was the last thing Adrienne needed to hear to make her lose her meek demeanor.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit, Yoongi, you’re being weird, and I don't understand why because I’ve barely seen you all week.”

“I’m not acting weird! I just don’t have time to sit around and waste time talking to you all day. We have an album to put together in just a few months.” He huffed and pulled the headphones off his head, allowing them to clatter against his desk. “If you want someone to gossip with, maybe you should find Namjoon.”

Those final words made everything click for Adrienne, and she threw her hands up in the air, a loud, humorless laugh accompanying her look of disbelief.

“Is that what this is about?” she asked with a gesture between them before resting her hands on her hips. “Are you jealous that he helped me the other day?”

Yoongi scoffed and rolled his eyes, but Adrienne recognized she’d hit a raw nerve by the ticking of his jaw.

“Are you serious right now, Yoongi? Do you think you’re the only person that could possibly know how to make me feel better?”

“No.”

“So, is no other guy allowed to talk to me unless you’re present?"

“No,” Yoongi repeated again with a growl. "That's not what I meant."

“Then what’s the problem?!” Adrienne exclaimed, loud enough for Jungkook and Taehyung, who were about to amuse themselves by bothering Yoongi, to stop in their tracks and turn back the other way.

“I didn’t think you were that kind of girl,” Yoongi answered calmly; he made no attempt to match her volume. “Just because we can’t be together, you already start working on catching another member? I didn’t think you were like that.”

It took a few seconds for Adrienne to really process what he was saying, and by the time he was done talking, she was angry enough to destroy every piece of equipment in his studio. She bottled that anger, taking a deep breath to calm the fury within her until she was no longer boiling over. Her demeanor was eerily calm and decisive as she closed the space between them and rested both her hands on the armrests of Yoongi’s chair, effectively trapping him beneath her hardened gaze.

“Let's get one thing straight,” she said softly as she brought her head down to meet his eye line, “There is nothing stopping us from being together besides your own cowardice. If you want to hide behind your job and your boss and whatever else you’re scared of, feel free to keep doing it, but don’t pretend that there’s some grand force keeping us apart. You’re doing that on your own, and you know it.”

Yoongi parted his lips to answer, but she silenced him with a firm finger against his mouth.

“And secondly? Namjoon and I are friends. We’re going to continue being friends whether you like it or not, and if you and your fragile ego can’t handle that, then maybe it's a good thing you’re too much of a coward to be with me.”

Adrienne ended her statement by pushing his chair away from her and slamming the door on her way out. She was livid the entire walk home and muttered angrily under her breath the whole way. The audacity of him to suggest she'd just jump to someone else, like some starstruck fan, fueled Adrienne's anger with every passing thought. She couldn't even finish the lyrics she'd been carefully curating. It was meant to be a passionate love song, but the only words she could think of were ‘fuck Min Yoongi’ – and not in the way she usually wanted to.

Eventually, her anger lured her to sleep. She managed to rest peacefully for exactly one hour until the sound of loud banging on her front door forced her awake. She wasn’t expecting any visitors, and Adrienne contemplated grabbing a weapon of some sort until she listened closely and heard a very familiar voice calling her name from the other side of the door.

Admittedly, Yoongi didn’t really have a plan.

He thought that showing up to Adrienne's apartment after their fight in an attempt to apologize was a good idea after having dinner with Hoseok. Of course, that was four bottles of soju ago, and whatever he'd planned to say was now just nonsense rattling in his head.

When Adrienne’s door flew open, she still looked as angry as she had hours ago, but Yoongi remained undeterred. He would win her over tonight, even if it killed him.

“Hey, beautiful.” He said sweetly, leaning against the frame of the door in an attempt to seem less drunk than he actually was.

“Yoongi, do you know what fucking time it is?”

“I think it’s time for you and I to stop playing and do this shit for real.” Yoongi grinned, believing he was being clever.

Adrienne was not amused and looked at him like he’d spontaneously grown two more heads right there on her doorstep.

“Are you drunk?”

Yoongi denied it, of course, with a loud scoff, but he stumbled when he attempted to push himself off the doorframe, and Adrienne rolled her eyes with annoyance.

“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” she muttered into her hands. “Get in here before someone sees you falling over your own two feet.”

Yoongi kept insisting that he was fine but didn’t fight back when Adrienne forcibly pulled him into her apartment and shut the door behind him.

“Did you honestly think that this was a good idea? Showing up in the middle of the night, drunk off your ass, telling me we need to do this shit for real? What are you even talking about?!”

“You think I should have waited until tomorrow?” Yoongi countered, ignoring the bulk of her questions.

“...I’m not doing this, not tonight,” Adrienne said, sounding exasperated. “You can sleep it off on the couch until the morning, but I’m going to bed.” She moved to brush past him, but Yoongi caught her wrist and pulled her towards him.

“I’m serious, Andy,” Yoongi sounded more lucid, though still clearly tipsy and swaying slightly. The bravado he'd tried to project earlier had vanished.

“I’m not afraid to be with you, I know you think that I am, but I’m not...not anymore. My job is important to me, and I’ve never wanted to risk having anything distract me from being successful…. Not until I met you.” He said softly, his fingertips gently touching her cheek before curling around her jawline.

Adrienne wanted to pull away, to push him out of her apartment and go back to being angry with him, but the look in his red, puffy eyes broke her heart. So she allowed him to hold her. She didn’t respond with words, but her simple action of not pulling away when he cradled her face in his hands encouraged Yoongi to keep talking.

“And I don’t even mean that I think you’re a distraction, it’s just...” Yoongi sighed and tried to form what he wanted to say in a coherent way, “I was jealous earlier because it’s so hard for me to tell you exactly what I'm feeling when I don’t know how to, and Namjoon can talk to you so easily. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted him instead; actually, he’d probably treat you a lot better than I would.”

“Okay, you can shut up now,” Adrienne finally answered with a heavy sigh. “I don’t want Namjoon or anybody else. Just you. Do you know how much it hurt me to hear you accuse me of being some kind of tramp just for talking to someone else? "

“I should not have said that,” Yoongi responded quickly, his words still slurring together.

“No, you shouldn’t have. It was a terrible thing to accuse me of, Min Yoongi.” Adrienne chastised while she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi smiled broadly when she pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I really do like the way you say my name.”

“You do?” Adrienne giggled and looked up at him. “You should be nice to me so I can say it more often.”

A playful smirk danced along Yoongi's lips when he looked at her again, and he pulled her head close to him and pressed his lips against her forehead in a gentle kiss that traveled down to her temple. He pressed his lips against the skin there as well before his lips skimmed against her ear. “I really want to kiss you, is that okay?”

One of his hands reached up and delicately framed Andy's face, his eyes bore into her own and held her gaze until Adrienne silently gave him permission to proceed. He moved slowly at first, not wanting to give away just how much he had been wanting to kiss her. Once their lips touched, however, it only took seconds for his body to betray his mind. Her lips were soft, just as soft as Yoongi remembered, and he couldn’t find it in himself to keep his kiss chaste like he intended.

He spared no time in gingerly teasing her lips apart with the tip of his tongue. Against her better judgment, Andy welcomed the inclusion of his tongue between her lips, dancing her own with his. She smiled against his lips as his hands moved down from her waist to completely engulf as much of her backside as he could between his palms. He pulled her body as close to his as possible, and Andy gasped lightly when his lips parted from her own and attached themselves to her neck. Every curve of her body was pressed against his, and Andy could feel a very good reason for them to stop gently poking her in the stomach.

“Can you make it back to the studio by yourself?” Adrienne asked softly with Yoongi’s face still buried in her neck.

“Are you kicking me out?” He snickered but made no effort to move.

“Won’t the boys be wondering where you are?” Andy asked as she began walking backwards, leading them both toward her bedroom.

“Hoseok knows where I am, he’ll cover for me,” Yoongi answered with a smile.

“You have to get up early tomorrow, you should get some sleep.”

“I think I’m going to sleep very well tonight.”

“But what if-”

Yoongi stopped the excuse machine with a finger on her lips. “I’ll get up early and tell everyone I slept in my studio, no one has to know I was here. Except Hobi, but even he isn’t stupid enough to say anything. Any more excuses?”

“No,” Andy replied after a moment's pause, and Yoongi smiled.

“Good.”

In a split second, he had her pressed against the wall. He pushed himself against her and she moaned. He rested his forehead against hers and ghosted his mouth over hers but didn't kiss her. He took her hand in his and trailed it down his chest until it came to the erection resting inside his pants. He wanted to ravage her, to make her feel every inch of him and everything he did to her. Yet, a small chance lingered that he might never have her like this again. So, he decided to take it slow, to tease her, to give her something to remember each time their eyes met. He kept one hand on her hip, while the other slid up her back. Their eyes engaged in an intense stare while he carefully pushed the loose fabric of her sweatshirt up and over her head; the material slowly revealed her bare chest. His imagination was nothing compared to the actual sight of her. It was almost more than he could take.

He trailed his hungry mouth down her chin, over the column of her throat and down the valley of her chest. He kissed all around the globe of her right breast first, and he could feel her heart rate begin to rise as she gasped and arched her back a little. He ran his tongue along the heavy underside of her breast, licking and nipping as he went. He just barely licked her nipple and she whimpered and grabbed his hair, forcing his mouth on her. Yoongi smiled and allowed his mouth to be maneuvered. He sucked her nipple, bit her just hard enough not to cause pain, and squeezed her flesh. His name fell from her lips, and he was sure it was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. He teased her breasts for several minutes, until she was undulating her hips against him, just begging for some friction. He ran his lips along her stomach and then he was on his knees in front of her. He looked up at her, boring his intense gaze into her green eyes, while he took his time pulling her cotton shorts all the way off.

She shimmied her hips a little to help, and then he was met with the sight of her lacy black thong that did nothing to mask the fragrance of her arousal. He had to look down and take a minute to control the urge to forget the game he was playing and take her right then and there. Adrienne stroked his face until he got control of himself, then he hooked his fingers into the sides of her underwear and pulled them down.

Yoongi moved back a little so he could take her in. She had the most open, trusting expression on her face, and it nearly crushed him to know that he had hurt her just a few hours earlier. His eyes fell from her face to her fit, slim body, and he was immediately inundated with images of all the things he would do to her, if she let him. He wanted to make love to her, fuck her, make her see stars, make her call for God, and make her know that he would do everything in his power to make sure that she never felt hurt again. So he scooted back to her, still on his knees, and he placed his hands behind her legs. He hoisted her up enough for her to place her legs on top of his shoulders, with her back pressed to the wall. He ran his nose up her wet center, and she shivered. He groaned deeply because the scent of her made his mouth water. He teased her before diving in like a man who’d been starved for weeks.

Every moan and sigh that spilled from her lips spurred him on, and soon his fingers joined his tongue. He slipped one inside her first, then another, and he worked them up and down slowly to get her right where he wanted her. When he felt her orgasm drawing closer, he hooked his fingers at just the right time, and her whole body went stiff. She screamed, alternating between "Yoongi" and "holy shit," and he continued his ministrations until her body was spasming and she was breathing hard. He slowly removed his fingers and gently placed her on her feet again. He made a show of licking his lips and his fingers, and she looked at him through hooded, sated eyes and leaned back to keep her balance. He stroked himself through his pants, and he saw her eyes drop to his crotch.

“I can still go back to the studio if you want me to?" he asked.

Andy licked her lips and shook her head.

"You seemed like you wanted that earlier."

"Please shut up," she replied in a hoarse voice.

Yoongi kept his eyes on her as he pulled his shirt off, then unbuckled his jeans. He slipped his shoes off, then his socks, then let his jeans drop down to the floor, revealing his naked body. He walked back to her and then picked her up by her waist. He wrapped her legs around him and he rubbed himself against her. Both of them groaned. Their lips touched, but they still didn't kiss as he gently pushed himself inside of her, one inch at a time. Adrienne’s mouth fell open, and her eyes closed as she took him in. She was so warm and wet around him that he needed a moment to gather himself. Once he was sure she was okay, he rolled his hips back and forth at a slow pace. She clutched his shoulders and breathed against his lips. The only sounds in the whole house were of their bodies joining and the pleasured moans coming from both of them. They breathed on each other as they moved together. His strokes became deeper and harder, and her sounds got louder and louder. He eventually found the perfect spot for her, which in turn made it the perfect spot for him, and she squeezed him so tightly that he almost lost it.

"Yoongi," she breathed. Her eyes closed as she struggled to string together her thoughts. "I'm...I'm close."

With that declaration, Yoongi finally attacked her mouth hungrily, and their tongues met in a heated union. Their movements became reckless and desperate, and he didn't stop until Andy threw her head back and climaxed, squeezing and milking him so tightly that he couldn't help but follow right behind her. He buried his head in her shoulder as her screams pushed him over the edge, and he emptied himself inside of her.

Neither of them moved for a while as he continued to hold her against the wall. When she finally came down and stopped clenching around him, Yoongi breathed her in and kissed the soft skin of her neck. He nuzzled her with his nose in an attempt to commit the scent of her to his memory. He pulled out of her and placed her back on her feet when he finally felt the strength return to his legs. Without a word he guided them both towards the edge of Adrienne’s bed and they both fell face first into the covers.

On a warm summer afternoon, a young girl walked home alone. The pavement under her feet was rough, poking the soles of her feet through the thin flip flops. She brushed her fingers absently against the picket fences on her way, unaware - or simply uncaring - of the beautiful day it was; the green gardens; the picturesque street of her childhood; the bees hovering lazily over colourful flowers. 

Perhaps she wasn’t at the age where she understood the beauty in the simple things. Or perhaps she was distracted, and somewhat sad, that she was walking home alone on such a beautiful day. It was, after all, her birthday.

When she reached home, her mother was sifting through mail at the dining table. The birthday cake she knew she would cut later this evening sat on the kitchen counter in a pink cardboard box, and she could see her name through the transparent top, written in chocolate icing.

Her mother noticed. “You’ll just have to wait till this evening,” she sang, wiggling her eyebrows in exaggeration.

She responded with half a smile; maybe her mother hadn’t realised, but she was fourteen today, much past the age where her birthday cake was the highlight of the day. Still, she was grateful her mother was trying, that she was here - unlike everyone else.

“Anything for me?” she asked hopefully. 

“As a matter of fact,” said her mother, pushing a small pile of differently coloured envelopes towards her, “there is.”

For the first time this afternoon, she felt excited. Reaching for the pile, she scooped them into one hand and hopped off her chair, immediately running upstairs to her bedroom and shutting the door behind her.

If her friends were not in town for her birthday, at least they might have wished her from afar. She had received a couple of e-cards: brightly coloured animations that opened in another window of Internet Explorer, slowing down the internet connection in her entire house.

But this whole year, all the cool kids in school had gotten into the fad of writing letters. It probably had something to do with the new drama that had come out last year, set in the nineties where the characters made it through the entire plot mostly through letters across the country.

Naturally, everybody had become inspired, finding emails and text messages too bourgeois, and opting to write letters to each other even if they lived in the same block. 

She understood it. There was something extremely satisfying about folding the sheet of paper, placing it in a crisp white envelope, sticking a stamp on it and depositing it in a mailbox, watching it disappear into the abyss and waiting for the day your friend’s response arrived in the mail.

Now, she fell onto her stomach on the bed and picked the first one to read. Everybody wished her a happy birthday, talked about their spring vacation, missed home and gushed about meeting once the semester resumed. Each letter was like a little wave from a different part of the country; subconsciously, one letter kept getting set aside until it was the only letter left, the last pastel blue envelope with her name in a familiar scrawl.

Hey birthday girl,

I hope you’re not too lonely without me (and all your other friends, but mostly me). You know I wish I could’ve been there to smear your face with cake and watch you get all dramatic about it but since I can’t, I’m just going to picture it and laugh my ass off (LMAO).

Busan is nice but it’s so hot! My favourite cousin didn’t come this time so I’m stuck with her two little brothers who spend all their time playing with sticks they found in the garden and pretending they’re swords. I wish I could join them but it’s honestly been way too long since something like that sounded fun.

Speaking of which, did you like your birthday present?? I totally wanted to see your face when you opened it! But when my parents told me I wouldn’t be there, I gave it to your mom that morning you got late for school and asked her to give it to you.

(And here I hope you’re reading this AFTER she gave you the present, otherwise the surprise is ruined LOL)

Anyway, I know we were supposed to go out on your birthday so I promise we will when I’m back… but it won’t be your actual birthday so I’ll DEFINITELY make it up to you next year. Or if that seems too far away, we can celebrate your half-birthday - whichever sounds better. Maybe all three (although I hope not because I’ll probably run out of pocket money by then).

Hope you have a great day and you BETTER write back. Splotch some icing on your face from me.

- Your favourite person on Earth (you KNOW I am)

She read it three times, giggling quietly and wishing he were here so she could flick his forehead every time he cracked a lame joke. Her cake and future present forgotten, she clambered off the bed with the letter and sat at her desk. Reaching for the light pink stationery set her aunt had gifted her this morning, she tucked her hair behind her ear and began writing her reply.

—

The rain is pouring with a vengeance now, and Jimin blinks it out of his eyes as he hurries into the hotel manager’s office. His hair is wet and the AC blows a gust of freezing air through it, making him shiver.

“Sir,” he begins, then stops. The manager turns around and Jimin blinks. “Um… Mr Moon?”

“Oh - he is busy with another client,” says the manager. “I’m Mr Jang - Jang Jiyeong - at your service. The deputy manager.” He reaches forward to offer a hand that Jimin takes, confused.

“But I just spoke to Mr Moon on the phone - I’m his client,” he says, a bit hassled now. “I called him an hour ago about booking the gazebo for the night and he assured me it was free - and dry. And now I can’t get ahold of him.”

“I’m sorry - let me see what I can do,” mutters Mr Jang, dialing a number and looking up at the ceiling as the phone rings. Jimin stares at him for a minute until he puts the phone down. “Apologies, Mr…”

“Park. Park Jimin.”

“Mr Park Jimin, yes - you see, I can’t -” He stops abruptly and his eyes go wide. “Park Jimin, the idol? My daughter loves you! Would you sign an autograph for her?” he asks, eyes shining excitedly.

“I will come to her in person and thank her for being a fan,” says Jimin deliberately, hearing his own voice shake, “If you can please help me get in touch with Mr Moon.”

“Ah, yes, Mr Moon. I apologise,” he says quickly, apparently remembering himself. “I’m sorry, sir, I couldn’t reach him. But I’m sure it’s just because of signal issues. In fact, if you wait right here, I’m sure he’ll -”

He’s interrupted by the door slamming open and Mr Moon stumbling in with a wet umbrella. “Oh, Mr Park, you’re here,” he says, sounding relieved. “Sir, I’m sorry to tell you but we’ve run into a slight problem. You see -”

A loud clap of thunder makes them all jump and is on cue, the lights fizzle out and the office is plunged into darkness.

“- we seem to have lost power.”

—

“Okay - what? Wait, slow down.” Taehyung winces at Jimin’s incensed shouts on the phone. He looks up to see Jungkook approaching, pushing his sweaty bangs back with a headband and taking a seat at the lateral pulldown machine. He raises his eyebrows and Taehyung puts the call on the speaker. “So - okay, so where are you now?”

“I’m driving down from that stupid hotel back down to Gangnam!” he answers, sounding livid. “Apparently half the city has lost power including a damn five star hotel - so I thought I could try the astronomy museum across from the office,” he adds sullenly.

Jungkook frowns, wrinkling his nose. “The one we all went to after we debuted?”

“Yes, well, I don’t have a lot of options,” sniffs Jimin, followed by the sound of water splashing. “But it had that auditorium where you lie on the ground and they display the history of the universe or whatever. I figured fake stars are the best I can do tonight,” he grumbles.

Taehyung raises his eyebrows, sensing that telling his friend that Sooah will like whatever he does would be unhelpful at this time. “There’s that Japanese place next door to it, too, if you want to pick up food from there.”

“Yeah, that’s probably what I’ll do because the caterer that I booked today has gotten stuck in the rain because their car broke down. All I have is a single bottle of champagne that wasn’t even my first choice, my hair is wet and not in a sexy way, and now the gourmet meal I’d planned is going to be replaced by takeout sushi! This is the worst birthday ever!”

“Doesn’t Namjoon hyung have a liquor cabinet in his studio? He might have a bottle of champagne you can borrow.”

“Yes, he does, and I called him to ask for the password to his studio but he didn’t answer.” There’s the sound of a screeching horn, followed by Jimin swearing under his breath.

Taehyung and Jungkook look at each other, both lost for words. “Hey, uh, Jimin hyung,” says Jungkook slowly, looking up at Taehyung for approval, who nods at him to go on. “Listen… we won’t keep you, but let us know if you need any help, okay?”

“My socks are drenched!” With that, Jimin hangs up.

“Wow.” Taehyung places his phone on his hand towel, folded neatly by his water bottle. “This is the most stressed he’s ever been in… like, years?”

“Since that outdoor taping of Filter, where the wind kept blowing the hat off his head mid-routine,” remembers Jungkook, and they snicker. “I’m glad I’m not out there right now. Although the rain does look kind of nice from here,” he comments, pointing to the window by the treadmills.

“I take it you did cancel your date finally?” Taehyung asks, stretching his triceps over his head. He hadn’t intended on doing much at the gym except for giving Jungkook some company, but Jungkook had been so excited about teaching him this new exercise his trainer had taught him that Taehyung had gone along with it and surprisingly enjoyed the endorphin rush.

“Yeah, I wasn’t too keen on it,” he replies dismissively, reaching up for the bar and pulling it down in a smooth motion, face screwing up slightly with the weight.

“Really? Because the first time you saw her - wait, what’s her name again? Haneul?”

“Hana.”

“Right - the first time you saw her when you went to get your first tattoo, you couldn’t stop talking about how hot she was,” he recalls. “Remember? You called me when I was at my parents’ and kept saying you’d just met the woman you were going to marry? And then you corrected yourself and said you probably wouldn’t marry her but you could see yourself proposing at least once?”

“Oh, man.” Jungkook grimaces, the tip of his ears reddening. “I was a stupid kid.”

“Nah, you were cute.”

“Stupid,” repeats Jungkook, grunting as he finishes his last rep of the set and lets go of the bar. Taehyung offers him a sip of water, grinning at his embarrassment. “But she’s still hot. And she’s pretty chill, too, but… I dunno. Not feeling it today. But I’ll probably catch up with her after Sooah’s birthday lunch tomorrow,” he adds, straightening up and beginning his second set.

“Sure, if Jimin hasn’t had a nervous breakdown and cancelled the lunch in a fit,” says Taehyung, rolling his eyes. “God, my arms are going to kill me tomorrow,” he mutters, turning to the wall mirror and stretching his biceps again.

Jungkook flashes him a toothy smile in the mirror. “No pain, no gain, hyung,” he says wisely.

Taehyung gives him a playful smack on the shoulder and moves towards the mirror, observing his biceps from different angles in the light, wondering if today’s workout is actually making a difference.

“Looking sexy, hyung,” remarks Jungkook, finishing his second set and standing up.

“I know, right? C’mon, we have to take a picture,” he instructs, waving him over and reaching for his phone. “Let’s commemorate my last gym session for the rest of the month.”

Jungkook chuckles, pushing the sleeve of his t-shirt up to reveal his own biceps. “The fans will get a kick out of this.”

Taehyung flexes his own and points the phone at the mirror and clicks, then groans. “No way, your muscles are way too big,” he complains, reaching over and shoving Jungkook’s arm out of the way. “They make mine look so silly.”

“Nuh-uh, your face looks better in the picture -” Jungkook starts to say, trying to force his arms further in focus as Taehyugn tries to push them away. They grapple jokingly until Jungkook pulls him back in a pretend headlock and faces the mirror, his biceps firmly in the centre of attention. 

Taehyung snorts but has to admit that the pose looks hilarious, so he flexes his own bicep and holds his phone up with the other hand, and both of them grin at the mirror. “Perfect.”

Jungkook laughs and lets go of Taehyung as the latter starts typing a caption. “Is ‘gym bros’ too predictable?” he asks.

“Nah, it’s fine. Wait, are you posting it on Instagram or Weverse?”

“Neither. I’m sending it to Dilara.”

“Oh.” Jungkook pauses, long enough for Taehyung to look up at him. “Do you… I mean, you think she’ll be okay with that? Us hanging out?” he adds when Taehyung raises an eyebrow.

Taehyung blinks, then sighs heavily. “Alright, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this, properly. Look - let it go.”

When he doesn’t continue, Jungkook frowns. “Let, uh… let what go?”

Taehyung tilts his head and gives him a look, not fooled. “Look, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you. I get why you did it, alright? She’s your friend,” he says simply. “And that’s separate from our relationship. You were a good friend to her when I couldn’t be there for her and it’s not fair to assume that that won’t continue just because we’re back together now.”

Jungkook’s eyes, huge and doe-like, seemingly process this information. “She’s my friend,” he murmurs in agreement, almost as though he’s saying it to himself.

“Yes. She’s your friend. And as we’ve established over the many, many years we’ve known each other, that you get protective of your friends,” explains Taehyung. “Like the time that interviewer made fun of Jin hyung, or when that fan was taking pictures under Nayeon’s skirt when she was at the edge of the stage? You stood behind her and accidently kicked the phone out of his hand?” Both of them shudder at the memory.

Jungkook’s eyes flicker to Taehyung and he slowly nods. “She’s my friend,” he repeats, “and I get protective of my friends. She’s my friend,” he says, half-chuckling, sounding almost relieved that Taehyung apparently seems to understand this now.

Taehyung raises his eyebrows at this effusive response but goes along with it. “Yeah, she is. So… you know. I get it.”

“Right. So… so we’re really cool?” Jungkook asks.

His eyes shine hopefully, enough to make Taehyung’s heart break just a little. He places his hands on either side of Jungkook’s face. “Yes, you ridiculously muscled kid,” he says seriously, squeezing his face. “Now will you please chill the fuck out about this?” 

“You got it,” says Jungkook immediately. “And, uh… Dilara, too?”

“Even more so, if it’s possible. In fact, she, uh -” He takes a step back, moving to leave. “She asked me to ask you if you’ve got the sequel to the last Resident Evil… Hazardous Waste installment or something on your Playstation. And since I couldn’t care less, maybe you could text her yourself and let her know?”

“Definitely.” Jungkook nods, sounding relieved. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, this is more than enough exercise for me. It’s kind of getting in the way of my lying around time,” he points out, grabbing his things and waving.

“Alright. Oh, send me the picture!” Jungkook calls, seeing Taehyung’s thumbs up before he disappears out the glass doors.

—

The auditorium in the astronomy museum is less than ideal but Jimin knows he is fast running out of options. While the museum is almost shutting down for the night, he manages to keep it open for a sum, for a private tour with whom the manager refers to as his “lady friend”.

He’s at the gift shop, ruminating over a blanket and some fake champagne flutes, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Expecting the manager again, he fishes it out and tucks it in between his ear and shoulder.

“Hello?” “Jimin?”

Jimin drops the items he’s holding and picks up the phone. “Sooah? Hey, I was just going to -”

“Jimin, where the hell are you?” she yells, her voice barely audible over the rain. “It’s so dark - how do I even find you?”

“What do you -” And suddenly, Jimin’s heart stops, for he does know what she means. This can’t have possibly happened, he reasons, his heart pounding and stomach dropping at the same time. Somewhere, in the midst of securing one venue after another, coordinating with various sellers and bitching to his friends while driving in a storm, he has forgotten to inform the birthday girl of the change in plans.

“I’m at the park! Chim!” The sound of the rain is even louder now. “I’m holding the yellow umbrella at the front gate but, babe, it’s pitch black,” she tells him, sounding uncertain. “Are you sure this is even a good idea tonight?”

Jimin falls to the ground, resting on his heels, and presses the ball of his palm to his eyes. This night was already starting to seem unsalvageable, but now it suddenly feels like an all-time disaster. 

“Sooah,” he starts, feeling exhausted and defeated all at once, “listen, I’m… fuck, I am so sorry.”

“What? Chim, I can barely hear you,” comes her voice, slightly muffled through the rain. “Listen, the night guard here just told me the park is closed? Can you please come here? Or - or can you come to the Caffetta across the street? The rain is just way too strong here.”

“Yes,” he says immediately. “Yes, yes - I’ll be right there.” He hangs up and abandons the shopping, heading straight to the parking lot and going to Sooah. This drive feels like a blur; Jimin tries to ignore the disappointment, knowing that if he doesn’t rein it in now, he’s bound to start crying and that’s the absolute last thing Sooah needs after the hideousness that’s been this night.

He spots the logo of the Caffetta coffee shop as he’s nearing the park, the place where it all began today, and slows down the car. A brand new coffee chain borne out of a coffee brand, with branches all over Seoul, the place looks incredibly cozy and warm from where Jimin is, in the cold and the rain surrounded by dim streetlights and nothing else. He hurries inside, no longer caring if he gets wet in the process.

Sooah is in a cushy armchair, finger combing her hair when she looks up and spots him and, in what is probably the only highlight of Jimin’s day so far, she beams at him.

“Hey, I was starting to get worried,” she says as she walks up to him, immediately moving to hug him. He hugs her back, feeling his face start to morph as the urge to cry in anger starts to take over, until he takes a deep breath to force it away. 

She squeezes his shoulders before stepping away. “What happened? You sounded really stressed over the phone,” she says, taking him by the hand to the table she was sitting at. 

Jimin sinks into the chair next to her and sighs, wondering where to begin. He looks around briefly; it’s a pretty café, full of warm brown and yellow toned furniture, beanbag chairs and a corner booth - but it’s also almost empty. Aside from one table with a man and woman who look to be in their forties, and one younger man with headphones around his neck and a laptop in front of him, Sooah is the only other patron. 

He turns back to look at her, eyes roaming over her damp hair. Her sweater had clearly gotten wet; she’s taken it off and draped it across the back of her chair, left only in a thin full-sleeved shirt and jeans.

“I tried to…” He trails off, shaking his head. “I tried. I really did. I wanted to give you an amazing birthday, booking out the park and getting gourmet catering and falling asleep under the stars, but…” He rubs his eyes. “Everything got so fucked up.”

Sooah frowns slightly but it disappears, being replaced by a growing smile. “That actually sounds amazing.”

“Yeah, I knew you would love it!” he exclaims, feeling even worse now. “And then it started raining so I tried to move it and then I tried to book a hotel - but then the stupid power went out everywhere and the food never arrived,” he lists, “and all I had left was the champagne… which I now realise I left at the museum.” He swears and drops his head into his hands.

“Oh, my God.” Sooah is silent for a moment before moving, and he feels her soft hands on his. “Jimin. All I want for my birthday is to be with you. Anything you do will be lovely - I’ll love it no matter what.”

“It’s your first birthday since we got back together,” he says in a small voice, sniffing and looking up. “We’re always on-and-off and I don’t want this time to be like all the other times. Starting with this.”

She bites her lip, and Jimin is somewhat glad to see how affectionate she looks. “God, you really still are the sweetest guy I’ve ever known,” she murmurs, brushing back a stray lock of hair. “And you look cold. It means everything that you tried, baby, but I promise - I don’t care about that stuff.”

Jimin gives her a look. “That’s just not true. You… you’re - ” He struggles for the words, then gives up. “You’re Kim Sooah!”

She frowns, bewildered. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You love grand gestures! All the way from that chocolate-based treasure hunt in high school. And you just said the park thing sounded amazing.”

“Okay, yes, I would’ve loved that,” she admits, a little sheepishly. “I would’ve been blown away. But not at the expense of your evening. Chim, no grand gesture is worth you taking this much stress over it. And that part is true.”

Despite how much of a bust this evening has been, Jimin finally cracks a smile. “I promise lunch tomorrow will be better.”

“A simple restaurant, as long as it’s just you and me.”

“Yup,” he confirms, straight faced. “Totally.”

She pokes his forehead teasingly before kissing him. “Oh, wait. What was your original plan at the park, anyway? Like a picnic?”

Jimin shakes his head. “It was going to be a movie screening, just for us. Delicious food, champagne, a couch, the night sky above us… It would’ve been pretty spectacular. But honestly, I’m just tired now. Not to mention freezing.”

“I’m glad you said that because you know what? So am I.” Sooah stands up and heads towards the front of the shop and begins to order something.

Jimin jumps to his feet. “Absolutely not,” he says firmly, hurrying over and sliding in between her and the counter, before turning around to face her. “You are not going to pick up the tab on your birthday, too. Not unless you want me to kill myself.”

“Dramatic much?” she asks, making a face but moving away anyway. “Fine, a hot chocolate for me and…” She cranes her neck to read the menu. “And a hotdog. I’ll get us a better table,” she adds as he waves her away, brandishing his wallet in the air.

When Jimin returns with the food, it’s to see Sooah at a table in the back of the cafe, this time on a plush couch right by the window. She reaches eagerly for the hot chocolate, even before he’s set the tray down. He doesn’t go for the food, though; instead, he sits back on the couch next to her and sighs. The streets outside are dark, with the rain blurring every shape in the city and only the glow of streetlights piercing through the storm, like little charms. Now that his hair is drying, the view actually looks pretty.

“You okay?”

“You know, in a really twisted way, I’m glad the whole thing got ruined to the point where I just can’t salvage it, no matter what.” He gives her an apologetic look. “I mean, I wish it had worked out, but… God, this is the first time all day that I’ve finally relaxed.”

Sooah snickers, reaching over and kissing him on the cheek. “I was just thinking, though - maybe it’s not a total bust,” she points out, unlocking her phone and getting ready to type. “What was the movie?”

“Guess.”

“I dunno. Star Wars?”

“You -“ He gasps, affronted. “You think my romantic evening was going to be with Star Wars? Damn, Sooah, I thought you got me. It was going to be Grease.”

“Best movie of all time,” she agrees excitedly, typing it in. “And my favourite. And what do you know?” She turns the phone screen towards him. “It’s on Netflix.”

“Convenient,” he says, nodding. “But this wasn’t really how I’d pictured -”

“Things very rarely happen the way we picture it, Chim,” she says wisely. “But, as Chaeyoung told me that one day my face broke out right before a work event and I was out of concealer, we just have to make the best of it,” she says, placing her phone against the cute little tissue dispenser on the table so it faces them. “And I didn’t believe it would work either,” she adds, handing him one of her Airpods, “until she helped me discover the beauty of simply being who you are.”

“Wow.” Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes. That and BB cream.”

He nods, feeling so lucky in this moment that he feels sorry for every other individual out there who doesn’t have someone like Sooah. Taking the Airpod and tucking it into his ear, he picks up his own hot chocolate as she starts the movie. Maybe a movie on a big screen under the stars with gourmet food and champagne simply wasn’t in the cards tonight. Maybe this, shared earbuds and cuddling on a couch with hotdogs and hot chocolate, while the rain poured outside, was their BB cream.

“Oh, hang on.” He stands up and places his hot chocolate on the table. “I forgot something; I’ll be right back.” He jogs out of the cafe and runs to the car, wincing at the rain again. Determined to make at least one thing go according to plan tonight, he throws open the passenger door and retrieves the Gucci hoodie.

—

When their car almost hits a pothole, the jerk from swerving out of its way makes Yoongi feel like his stomach is falling out his back.

“Oh, my God, will you please drive in a straight line?” 

Yoongi grits his teeth and exhales sharply out of his nose, barely hanging on to his last shred of patience. “Hey, you know what? If you think you can do a better job, you drive next time.”

“Oh, really? Do you think you’ll actually let me in the drivers’ seat of your precious Range Rover next time?” Miso snaps, but it lacks its usual bite.

Yoongi chances a glance at Miso, looking away from the chaotic windshield for a moment. Her back is pressed to the passenger seat and her hands grip the edges, knuckles white. Her pale face looks a bit green but when another flash of lightning occurs, her entire face comes into view for a fraction of a second.

“Eyes on the road, Min Suga!”

“I can’t see anything!” Yoongi exclaims, turning back to the road and clicking his tongue in frustration. “There are too many trees and the damn leaves are flying everywhere! Fuck!” He swears, hitting the steering wheel. “One thing can’t go right today!”

“Oh, God,” mutters Miso. “Not this again.”

“Why the fuck not?” Yoongi demands. “I had been preparing for this meeting for weeks! Do you have any idea how many presentations and budgeting meetings I sat through with the management? Preparing demo after demo, just for you to get all prissy in there and ruin it?”

“Prissy? I was defending you, you prick!” she retorts. He can see her shift slightly to orient herself towards him, probably so she can yell at him more easily. “That guy was treating you like dirt, acting like you were some silly singer who didn’t know jack shit about business!”

“So what? He’s an arsehole - everybody knows it!” he argues, maneuvering through a blind turn on the highway. “But we need his money! We needed this investment because my - a lot of things depend on this! And now -” He huffs and breaks off, shaking his head and trying to focus on the treacherous road.

“You were really okay being spoken to like that? I don’t believe it,” she states. “You have way too much pride for that - and I can’t believe you’re getting mad at me for standing up for you.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but you didn’t just stand up for me - you insulted him to his face!” Yoongi scoffs, more out of frustration than anything. “It’s not about pride, Miso. Nothing comes for free, so if him making his little digs was going to ensure he gives us what we want, it’s fine!”

“What we want - you mean his money? He insulted your whole career - aren’t you the one who always says that music is the soul of this company?” She reminds him. “That that’s why you feel so protective over it, because you built it or whatever?”

“I - that’s still true,” he admits, reeling a bit at the realisation that she remembers a conversation from ages ago. “Music may be the soul of the company but it still needs cash to run. You probably don’t value it as much because you’ve always got it so easy, but some of us have to take shit -”

“Oh, here we go,” she interrupts loudly, and he can hear her rolling her eyes. “Obviously I can’t make it through one investor meeting because I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth. Because I eat gold and burn money for fun. Is that it?”

“Your words, not mine.”

“Jesus. You talk big about taking shit to make a company run - is that why you’re still agonising over a fucking collaboration because you’re afraid it will hurt Namjoon’s feelings? Even though it’s sure to top the sales of any solo this company has ever put out?”

Yoongi grips the steering wheel so hard it makes his forearms hurt. “That is a completely different thing. I’m not okay with betraying someone I’ve worked with for so long - someone I lived with for over a decade for a project.”

“Why not?” she argues. “How is it different? He’s in the business, too, isn’t he? He’s a smart guy - he probably knows it’s okay to take a couple of digs if it means getting what you want.”

“You’re impossible,” he mutters, finally approaching the end of the highway, Seoul now almost within view. “Fucking hell, the road is flooded.”

“Shit.” Miso sighs. “Are you sure your car has enough ground clearance?”

“Only one way to find out.” He pushes on, the wiper blades working over time. “Damn it, how did it get so late?”

“Maybe you took one too many digs on a rainy day.”

“God, will you shut up for two seconds?”

“Sure, probably around the same time you grow a spine. You know, you can give me a little credit,” she continues, cutting Yoongi off just as he turns to her furiously. “I was sent here with you for a reason. You may know a lot more than me about music but this is more than just artistry - it’s a business. And as the only person in this car with a business degree, I think I can -”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! You think you were sent for this meeting because of your degree?” he retorts. “You were sent because you're Kang’s Jaesung’s daughter, another billionaire who invested in the company! They hoped that guy would see you, find out who your father is, and see him as a viable example to invest! That’s why you were sent here - you’re a proof of concept!”

There’s silence in the car, the rain sounding loud and like a hundred gunshots on the roof of the car. Yoongi breathes heavily, grimly satisfied at finally having shut her up - not least because the road ahead looks chaotic as hell.

“What the -”

There’s the faint sound of honking in the distance, followed by two cars driving by them in the opposite direction and spraying a wall of water on his car as they do. Yoongi wants to wonder out loud but he stops himself, deciding there’s no way to go but forward.

At that moment, his phone rings and he answers out of habit, ignoring Miso’s quiet scoff. “Hello?”

Seokjin’s voice emanates out of the speaker. “Yoongi!” he exclaims, voice sounding urgent. “Listen - have you ever seen the resting rooms on the top floor of the company building?”

Yoongi swerves a bit, trying to avoid branches and leaves on the ground that have turned to mulch. Next to him, Miso straightens up, her eyes up ahead on the road. “Shit,” she mutters.

“What?”

“The resting rooms on the top floor,” says Seokjin, apparently thinking Yoongi’s question was intended for him. “Have you seen them? What are they like?”

“Oh… that. The ones for the idols?” Yoongi asks absently, starting to spot some kind of commotion up ahead - but the rain is making it too blurry. “They’re fine, I guess. I’ve crashed there a couple times after all-nighters.”

“Really?”

But Yoongi hardly hears him, for his headlights don’t shine on the tree trunk blocking the road until he’s only a few feet away from it.

“Yoongi - that’s a tree!” 

“Fuck!”

Miso’s hands appear out of nowhere and turn the wheel with surprising strength, just edging the car out of the trunk’s way. Yoongi’s foot hits the brake automatically and the car screeches to a painful stop.

Yoongi turns the car off, his heart thumping madly. Miso’s hands disappear just as quickly as they appeared and he turns to see her just as shaken as he feels, brushing her bangs off her face. She meets his eyes, glares and looks away.

“Uh, hyung?” Yoongi says, realising suddenly that they aren’t alone. “I’m going to have to call you back.” Without waiting for Seokjin to answer, he hangs up.

Once again, there’s silence inside the car. The tree trunk is blocking almost the entire road and now that they’ve stopped, Yoongi can see barricades up ahead, along with traffic police carrying flashlights.

“Are you okay?” he asks Miso, giving her a sideways glance.

“Spectacular.” She doesn’t turn away from the window. “Let’s go,” she adds in a smaller voice.

Yoongi obliges, turning the car back on and driving around the trunk up to where the barricades are. “The road looks blocked,” he says, but she doesn’t respond. It isn’t until one of the policemen, shrouded in a thick plastic raincoat, tells them the same thing and informs them that this is only the first of many tree trunks blocking the highway and that it will take all night to clear the road to Seoul, that Miso speaks.

“What do we do now?” she asks, almost to herself.

“Well, we’re not getting out of here tonight.” Yoongi sighs and moves the car to the side of the road, before turning off the engine. He runs a hand through his hair; this is not how he saw this evening going. “I’m guessing we can’t call a car from Seoul either.”

“No, we can’t,” she confirms in a mutter, looking at her phone. “If there was any way into Incheon, Seungkwan would’ve found it. I’m telling him I’m checking into a hotel for the night,” she adds, shaking her head.

Yoongi nods, glad he doesn’t need to create a fake plan so people don’t come looking for him. He knew her father was out of the country, which meant her neglectful mother might be the only one capable of realising she’s missing.

Miso catches his eye, almost as though she knows what he’s thinking. “My mother is on a spa weekend.”

“Okay. Well, now that you’ve covered your bases…” He trails off, asking the obvious question with a shrug.

“I guess we find some place to kill the night,” she finishes.

A combination of Google Maps and dubious road signs later, Yoongi and Miso find themselves checking into a motel by the highway. It doesn’t look too secure in terms of safety but Yoongi reasons that they just need to make it to daybreak, once the rain has stopped and at least one road is cleared out.

The receptionist looks tired herself, looking to be in her early thirties at best, with her hair in a ponytail and faded sweatshirt, circles under her eyes and a complete disinterest in the guests she’s checking in. The only thing that strikes him about her appearance is a pair of thin gold earrings with a brilliant green stone in the middle.

“ID?” she asks listlessly, barely looking up at them.

Yoongi and Miso exchange a wary look; without speaking, they hesitantly place their drivers’ licenses on the counter. If the receptionist sees anything familiar in either name, she doesn’t show it. She simply checks them in, the green earrings catching the light of the table lamp next to her. 

“Room 104, straight down. Follow me,” she says in a monotone, taking a big yellow key off a board on the wall and starting to walk down the hall. It’s a small, unassuming establishment, with the ground floor opening up into the open, a patch of grass separating it from being right on the sidewalk.

Frowning, Yoongi follows her after making sure Miso is, too. The receptionist stops in front of a room and unlocks it, jiggling the key a couple of times before the door creaks open. 

“Water is complimentary, snacks are chargeable. Check-out is at ten am. Have a lovely stay with us.” Her face unchanging, she turns to leave.

“Wait a second,” says Miso, stopping her. “We’re two people. And we’re not together,” she adds pointedly, ignoring Yoongi’s sigh as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

The receptionist seems to not register the implied statement for a few moments. “We only have one room left,” she states. “If you wish, you can look for something else up the highway.”

Miso bites her lip, her jaw hardening. All of them turn to look at the street, the rain coming down in waves of fury as gusts of wind change its direction. Yoongi raises his eyebrows at Miso, who rolls her eyes and looks away, but doesn’t argue. Nodding, Yoongi holds out his hand for the key.

“Thank you. We’ll let you know if we need anything.” He waits until the receptionist is out of earshot before turning to Miso. “It’s just for a few hours.”

“Fine. Whatever.” She stalks in, dropping her bag by the door and shrugging off her jacket. 

Yoongi shuts the door behind them and takes off his as well, shaking out his damp hair. “Yeah, it’s not a big deal,” he says, walking inside. “It’s not like we have…” He trails off as he walks further inside the small room and stops. “Okay, there’s only one bed.”

Miso stops next to him and folds her arms across her chest. “Oh, my God, there’s only one bed.”

—

The sprint from his car to Chaeyoung’s apartment drenches Hoseok to the bone and by the time she opens the door, his teeth are chattering.

“Hoseok? What are you doing here?” Chaeyoung steps aside and ushers him inside, closing the door behind him. It’s dark with minimal light, just as he’d expected. “Jesus, did you drive? That’s so dangerous, oppa - there’s a storm outside!”

“I know,” he replies, still shivering as he tries to drink in the warm and dry interior of the apartment. Compared to his woolen hoodie and thick jeans - all of which are wet now - she’s dressed far more freely in an oversized t-shirt and shorts, her feet tucked in a pair of furry blue house slippers. “I heard the power was out in this area. I called you - but you didn’t answer,” he points out, trying to keep his limbs from shaking. “And I got worried. Why the damn hell didn’t you answer?”

“My phone is out of charge.”

“Then why didn’t you charge it?”

“Because there’s no power!” Chaeyoung frowns and tilts her head. “Seriously, is that why you came all the way here? Because I didn’t answer my phone?” When Hoseok opts not to answer, partly feeling silly and partly because he doesn’t want her to hear his teeth chatter, she sighs. “You’re crazy, oppa.”

“Yeah, you know what? You seem totally fine so this was just - like, a false alarm. I’ll head out now,” he says quickly, turning to leave when she grabs his arm.

“Whoa, no way. I’m going to get you a towel. Hang on.”

She disappears inside and Hoseok steps further into the small apartment, now allowing himself to shiver a bit more visibly. He takes off the wet hoodie and that’s when he notices her living room, lit up with a dozen suns. Just beyond the couch and television area, between the closed balcony and the dining space, is a mattress on the floor and at least ten to fifteen candles in various spots around the room, the flames small but bright. There’s music at a low volume playing from somewhere, sounding like Taylor Swift.

“Okay, here.” Chaeyoung steps out of the tiny laundry room with a stack of clothes in one hand and a towel in the other. “You can dry off and take a shower if you want. And these I presume are Jimin’s,” she explains, handing him the clothes. “It’s just a t-shirt and tracks because unfortunately, I couldn’t find boxers. Not that I looked,” she adds quickly.

“Not that I would wear another guy’s boxers,” he mutters. “Er, thanks. Should I…” He waits for her to point to the bathroom before ducking inside. Like most things Chaeyoung suggests, she’s right about the shower. After peeling off his cold, wet clothes and feeling the hot water against his skin, he feels reborn as he throws on Jimin’s borrowed stuff and traipses back out into the living room.

“Tea?” Chaeyoung asks as soon as Hoseok steps out and because he is taken by surprise, he nods and gratefully accepts a cup of steaming green tea. He notices her outfit a little more closely this time. Unlike her usual outfits which seem carefully styled and perfectly coordinated, all the way down to her shoes and accessories, she seems almost bare without it all. He reminds himself that this is likely what is underneath all that - this is simply the first time he’s seeing it.

“How come your phone’s out of charge?” he asks, taking a sip and feeling the heat start to return to his bloodstream. “Where’s your power bank?”

“I lost it,” she admits sheepishly, sitting on the edge of the mattress and tucking her knees under her chin. “I think I left it on the bus a couple weeks ago.”

Hoseok half-chuckles and takes another sip of the tea, looking around the room again. He realises now that some of the candles must be scented; he catches a whiff of lavender and inhales it, the storm outside becoming a distant memory. 

“Feeling better? The tea,” she says, pointing to his cup when he raises his eyebrows. 

“Oh. Yeah, actually. Thanks.” He gestures to the room. “You’ve got a hell of a set up here, huh?”

Chaeyoung shrugs. “I guess. I figured it would be a good night to stay in but then the power went out and… well, my room got pretty dark and there’s this branch outside that looks like a hand which just freaked me out.” She shudders. “So I got my stuff out here. The apartment feels less empty this way.”

Hoseok nods, spotting the pillows neatly set up at one end by the balcony, a soft purple blanket folded at the other. There is another half-finished cup of tea on the floor next to the blanket, along with her tablet which is open on Spotify, a flashlight, a book and what looks like a knitting project next to it.

“Oh, that’s a new hobby,” says Chaeyoung, following his gaze while he takes a seat next to her. “I didn’t think crocheting would be fun but I have to say, it kind of grows on you. Check it out,” she adds excitedly, leaning over him across the mattress to pick up a little figurine he hadn’t noticed. “My first finished project,” she declares, holding up what looks like a crocheted bear, a little smaller than the palm of his hand.

“You made this? Caterpillar, this isn’t half-bad,” he says, impressed. “I like the tail. Except… oh, I think its eye is a little loose…” He holds it out so she can look at it, amused when she groans. “It’s okay, he looks kind of cool. Like a pirate bear.”

She grins. “Yeah? Is that a thing?”

“Sure. Anything or anyone can be a pirate. Doesn’t even have to be about the eye, although that’s a bonus.”

“Pirate vibes,” she offers.

“There you go.” He goes to hand it back to her but she shakes her head.

“Keep it. I mean, if you want.” She gestures to the half-made crochet project still on the needles. “I have a lot more where that came from and the last thing I want to do is become a crazy lady surrounded by her creepy crochet animals.”

“This isn’t creepy,” he argues, tucking it into the pocket of Jimin’s tracks. 

“Yeah, because it’s just one and not an army.” Chaeyoung exhales and stretches her legs out in front of her, her long hair falling down one of her shoulders. She looks warm and dry and cozy, especially surrounded by the clean cotton and soft candlelight, but he thinks he catches a bite in her tone.

“How’s Sooah? Was she excited about tonight?” 

“Not sure. The last time I spoke to Sooah was…” She checks an imaginary watch on her wrist. “Six days ago.”

Hoseok frowns. “What?”

“Well, unless you count a cursory hi or a good night or do we have any milk left? Otherwise, it’s pretty much a lot of texts from her telling me she’s staying over at Jimin’s so not to wait up.” She bites her lip. “Sorry. I probably sound really bitter.”

“Not bitter,” he says reassuringly. “Maybe a little resentful. It’s understandable, though.”

“I’m happy for her,” she admits in a low voice. “And Jimin. They’re cute and - and she’s in love. It’s great. But… it’s kind of come to my attention that Sooah is my only friend in this city. And when she’s away…” Chaeyoung sighs heavily, looking slightly embarrassed. “It gets kind of… lonely. Which is my fault, not hers, I guess.”

Hoseok stares at her, waiting for her to look at him and raising his eyebrows when she does.

“What?”

“Well, not to be dramatic or anything, but I would say that a person who drove across the city in a storm because you didn’t answer his calls could be counted as a friend, too.”

Chaeyoung’s cheeks go slightly pink and her eyes widen slightly, before she laughs. “You’re definitely my friend, too, oppa,” she says, leaning over and hugging him. “I promise.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hoseok rolls his eyes but can’t help smiling, too. She smells of lilies and he shifts slightly closer to her. “I get it, though. Namjoon was that way a little bit in the beginning, when he started dating his girlfriend. She didn’t live here, though, so it wasn’t as bad, but… it’s a tough change.”

“I guess. You know, I’m trying really hard to shut up that tiny paranoid voice in my brain that’s insisting that Sooah was just pretending to be my friend until she found a more worthwhile person to be with. I know it’s ridiculous,” she says quickly, rolling her eyes. “I don’t actually believe it.”

“Good. Don’t. It’s just the honeymoon period,” he says, setting his cup down and leaning back on his hands. “And if you think she’s slipping away, you’re allowed to ask her for one on one time, you know? Friends have a right to ask that of each other, within reason.”

Chaeyoung looks doubtful, but also hopeful. Her eyes are wide and doe-like and Hoseok has to repress the urge to brush his thumb against her cheekbone.

“Maybe I will.” She nods and holds his gaze for a few seconds. “So, uh…” She clears her throat. “Did you really drive across the city in the storm just to check up on me?”

Hoseok doesn’t look away. “Is that so hard to believe?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, but the pink tinge returns to her cheeks. “You didn’t have to.”

“Well, if I’d known you’d prepared this well for it, I probably wouldn’t have.” He pauses. “But I’m kind of glad I didn’t.”

This time there’s no mistaking it; she’s definitely blushing.

“In fact, uh… I was a little unsure,” he admits after a moment, looking at his feet. “I mean… maybe I’ve been imagining it, but…” He looks up at her again, searching. “Have you been avoiding me lately?”

Chaeyoung blinks. “I - of course not. Why would you think I was?”

Hoseok’s mind flits through the abrupt texts and strange excuses he’s heard over the last few weeks. “I don’t know. Just felt like maybe you were.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“Okay.” He nods, sensing a slightly defensive tone but unable to be sure. “But… hypothetically if you were,” he ventures, “and hypothetically if it was because of something I did… I’m sorry. For whatever I did, hypothetically.”

Chaeyoung bites her lip, not quite meeting his eyes. “You didn’t do anything. Hypothetically, if I were avoiding you,” she adds. “Which I wasn’t, so…”

“Mhm.”

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You made a sound! You don’t believe me,” she accuses him, scowling dramatically.

“Yeah, because you’re a terrible liar. You always have been.”

She swats him on the shoulder and he mock-gasps, grinning when she huffs and stands up. “To think I gave you my debut crocheted stuffed toy. I’m going to make the next one so much cooler, believe me,” she declares, picking up the needles on the ground. 

“If it has two intact eyes, at the very least. Oh, come on, that was a joke,” he implores, laughing and lightly grabbing her ankle as she starts to walk away and sits a few inches away in the centre of the mattress. “I love the bear. I am sorry I barged in on your night, though,” he adds honestly.

“Oh, don’t be. I’m happy you did,” she admits, and the pink tinge returns to her cheeks as she looks down at her lap. Hoseok’s heart skips a beat, trying to think of anything and everything else he can say that can keep those faint pink spots from disappearing.

He turns properly to face her and is about to say something, when he spots a writing pad he hadn’t noticed next to her tablet. “What’s this?”

“Oh -“ Chaeyoung reaches over and snatches it out of his grasp, hiding it behind her back.

Hoseok, still reeling, looks up in confusion. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to -“

“No, it’s fine,” she mutters, shaking her head and waving him off, apparently a little embarrassed at her reaction. “It’s just… notes. Work stuff.”

“You got that defensive over work stuff?”

She gives him a look and he thinks she’s about to respond smartly, but instead she sighs. “Okay, I’ve been dying to tell someone, I guess… I kind of want to ask my boss if I can transfer to the creative team. You know, the one that actually works on the themes and end-to-end campaigns? Well, there’s a spot open there and all those teams are under my boss…”

“But?”

“But it’s a higher designation. So I’m essentially asking for a promotion,” she finishes. Her shoulders deflate slightly. “It’s a long shot, but… God, I really think I can do well there, you know? I have the ideas, I’ve worked on a couple of projects with the creative team, too. My entire internship during college was with a team like that.”

Hoseok leans forward. “So what’s stopping you?”

She looks at him like it’s obvious. “I mean… I have to actually ask for it. It’s not that easy.”

“Of course it’s not easy,” he agrees, his voice gentler now. “But you’ll never get it if you don’t ask. Are those notes for that conversation?”

Chaeyoung nods. She visibly hesitates, but then passes the writing pad to him.

Hoseok shakes his head, though. “I don’t need to see it. But if you want, you can practice with me. I’ve had my share of experience asking for things. And getting rejected a fair few times, too.”

She looks doubtful, but she sits a little straighter. “Really?” Her brows furrow slightly. “You won’t make fun of me?”

“Never.” He gives her knee an encouraging squeeze. “Go on.”

Chaeyoung nods and sits up on her knees, resting her hips down on her heels. She holds the pad up and begins a clearly rehearsed speech, occasionally looking up at Hoseok for his reaction. He nods as she goes along, giving her his feedback only when she stops and asks for it.

It’s probably the longest conversation they’ve had in months and it’s only towards the end, as Chaeyoung gets more confident and has added another half a page worth of notes to her original set, that he realises how terribly he’s missed her.

“You’re a lot more talented than you think you are,” he remarks when she sets the writing pad to the side, looking far more at ease than before. “Any team would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks,” she says gratefully. “I was just spiralling a bit, I guess. Especially because I was going crazy just keeping it to myself. Are you hungry?” she asks suddenly. “I managed to store just enough hot water in my thermos when the power outage warnings started.”

Marvelling at her ability to plan, far better than he or any of his friends did, he nods wordlessly. They devour a cup of instant ramen each while they chat, and then split a brownie she’d baked earlier in the day.

“Damn it, this is really good.” Hoseok takes another bite, the chocolatey goodness melting in his mouth. “You really baked this this morning?”

“I told you, I’m pretty bored these days. And my fingers started cramping after the first hour of crocheting, so I thought I needed a change,” she jokes, popping a piece into her mouth.

Hoseok chuckles and helps himself to some more, watching as she does the same. The candlelight makes her skin look like silk, throwing the softest shadows around the contours of her face. Without thinking, he reaches out and touches her cheek with the back of his hand.

Her eyes widen and he immediately yanks his hand back. “Sorry, there was, uh… cake. On your… yeah.”

“Oh.” She brushes her face a couple of times. “Did I get it?”

Not trusting himself to speak, Hoseok nods. Wanting to avoid catching her eye, he looks at the balcony doors behind her. The rain is still pouring heavily, streaks of lightning appearing in the sky, trees blowing in the wind and making it seem like a horror movie out there. Inside, it’s warm and lit and dry, just their voices and soft music in the background.

Hoseok doesn’t want to leave. He hopes she won’t ask him to; even if she denied avoiding him, he wasn’t fooled. But whatever it was that made her avoid him, she seems to have let it go for now - or she’s just too nice to ask him to go back home in the storm. Whatever it is, he’s glad. It’s never been like this before; she’s never opened up to him this much, this easily, this… readily. He feels like he’s seeing someone else - or it’s the same girl he’s always known, but it’s a side of her that hasn’t come out around him.

“Are you planning to sleep out here tonight?” he asks, patting the mattress and leaning back against the side of the sofa.

“Yeah, I was. I figured Sooah would sleep over at Jimin’s again so I’d have to literally weather the storm myself.”

She tries to play it off as a joke, but Hoseok spots the corners of her mouth turning down. “Dude, I know she’s got a boyfriend but trust me, okay? Just ask her to lunch or say it’s a girls’ night or something. She’s not going to turn you down.”

“Oh, she won’t turn me down,” agrees Chaeyoung. “But a girls’ night will just turn into a girls’ night, plus Jimin.”

“Call me the next time that happens. I’ll kick his arse.”

That makes her laugh. “I’m sorry, oppa, I can’t picture you kicking anyone’s arse. And I like Jimin,” she adds with a shrug of her shoulders. “He’s sweet, always comes with booze and his facemask application technique is out of this world. I just… don’t like being left behind,” she confesses.

Her eyes flicker towards Hoseok, lingering before looking away, and it makes him wonder if there’s more to this than she’s letting on. He’s not sure if he wants to ask, though. Her vulnerability feels too delicate to disturb; the last thing he wants to do is cause her to clam up.

“Well…” He searches for something to say. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back working sixteen hours a day again before you know it.”

Chaeyoung frowns. “Why? Didn’t you just finish touring? And I thought you said it’s the first time the company's given you a break after a tour.”

Hoseok’s heart stops for a moment. “Wow, you really do remember a lot of our conversations,” he mutters, mentally slapping himself.

“I do. So why will Jimin be back at work?”

He bites his lip. Chaeyoung looks genuinely curious; compared to the company or his members or anyone else, she seems like the only other person in the world right now.

“Can you keep a secret?” he asks, holding her gaze and waiting until she affirms it out loud. “We… the group… we’re going on a hiatus soon.”

Chaeyoung’s eyes widen. “What?” she asks in a hushed voice. “How - I mean, when? Why?”

“Soon,” he repeats, “and… it just seems like the right time. But listen, Chae - you can’t tell anyone. Okay? This is top secret stuff - even most people in the company don’t know it. Once the Hybe takeover happens and they release some more content under the new label, we’ll probably announce it. But until then, you have to keep it to yourself. No one at work, not Sooah - nobody finds out.”

“I - of course I promise,” she says quickly, looping her little finger around his when he holds it out. “But what do you mean it’s the right time?”

“I mean… we don’t want to do it exactly,” he admits. “We kind of have to, if we want to grow as artists at all. We’re getting pushed into a mould and it’s just not working anymore. Plus we’ll have to start enlisting soon…” His stomach jolts weakly. “We all have so much we want to do. Yoongi wants to tour, Namjoon wants a series of collaborations with artists half of us haven’t heard of, Taehyung wants to have fun, whatever that means,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jungkook -”

“And what do you want?” Chaeyoung asks, interrupting him. 

Hoseok doesn’t answer immediately. The answer has been noodling around in his mind for years now; first as a pipedream, then as a personal goal, and more recently, as a scary but real possibility if things worked out right. Now, it’s at the tip of his tongue, ready to be said out loud for the first time ever.

“Okay,” he says hesitantly. “Just… don’t laugh, okay?”

“What?” She scoffs. “Hobi, I just roleplayed a scenario with you where I asked for a promotion at work. Of course I won’t laugh.”

He nods. “I want to headline a music festival,” he says. “Like Coachella or something. I fucking love concerts,” he confesses, feeling his chest expand at the realisation that he’s finally saying it. “I love the preparation, the rehearsals, the costumes, the high on stage, the audience singing along. I’ve done tons of them with the group but I want to do one myself. Just to see what it would be like.” Just to see if I can.

Chaeyoung is starting to smile, and it makes Hoseok nervous. “Maybe it’s stupid,” he says hurriedly. “It’s stupid - just forget I said anything at all. It’s just a -”

“Oppa.” She interrupts him again, this time accompanied by a light slap on the shoulder. “If you score me a ticket to this festival, I’ll scrounge up enough cash to fly out there myself and watch you,” she says. “It’s not stupid.”

Hoseok regards her suspiciously. “It’s not stupid?” he asks, uncertain.

“It’s not,” she confirms. “In fact,” she continues, getting on her knees and leaning across from him to reach for her glass of water, “it sounds pretty on brand for you.”

“That’s - no, come on,” he stutters, feeling his face turn hot - and suddenly aware that he isn’t wearing anything under his joggers.

“I’m serious. I know you probably didn’t think you’d actually find success with BTS at first, but believe me - where you are now is exactly how I pictured you’d end up when you left Gwangju.”

He considers this. It had been a big decision, especially for his parents to balance their anxiety and desire to support him. His sister had given him some rare, sisterly advice at a time when she’d started building her own life, Chanyeol had called their classmates over for a farewell party, while young Chaeyoung had been a extra in his life - part of the extended family circle, but only by her association to the Kang family.

Confessing his secret lifelong dream to her hadn’t been on Hoseok’s bingo card. But there’s no one he trusts more at the moment, and possibly very few others he would drive through a storm for.

“Just let me know which festival and when,” she says after a moment, tone slightly teasing. “I’ll crochet a new, two-eyed bear for you.”

He nods. “That’s a long time to be crocheting. How did you get into it, anyway?”

Chaeyoung shrugs, not meeting his eyes. “It was a gift from… from my stepmom.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond immediately. She looks up at him, and he leans forward and kisses her. The rain is just in the background now, like the candles, the music - everything except Chaeyoung. 

Her hair smells sweet and her lips are soft; it’s exactly how he’d imagined it would be. The last time they had kissed had been over in a flash, too quick for him to appreciate every single physical aspect of it. He had been too consumed by the fact that it had happened at all, but it’s so fitting right now, as though every single thing that happened today was leading to this moment right here.

Chaeyoung kisses him back; if his hunch is correct, if the racing in his stomach is indicative of anything, it’s that she probably wants this as much as he does. He feels her fingers in his hair and her nails light against his scalp; he moves his hand from her face down her arm and reaches for her hand. He feels her move; a moment later, she’s climbing onto his lap.

Hoseok is afraid for a moment that she will feel just how much he’s wanted this and how long he’s wanted this but before he can think it through, he has her in his arms and the thought leaves his mind instantly, along with every other thought. His hands are at her hips and he’s so aware that it’s Chaeyoung, young and lifelong family friend Chaeyoung, that he stops them from moving any lower. It’s difficult, though; he tugs at the ends of her t-shirt and it’s harder to resist it this time. He moves his hands under the cloth, feeling the waistband of her shorts, her slender waist and the light indents of her ribs.

“Chae,” he murmurs against her lips, somewhere hearing her name sound on his tongue like it never has before. She hums in response but doesn’t move away. “Are you… are you a virgin?”

There’s a pause and Hoseok freezes, terrified he’s ruined the mood. Then she snorts and shakes her head. “No, Hoseok, I’m not.” She pulls away slightly and slips off her t-shirt, revealing a faded grey sports bra with thin straps disappearing over her shoulders in an X. “Don’t worry,” she assures him, tilting her head and kissing him again.

He doesn’t stop her; he can’t imagine ever wanting to. There’s a lot more skin now, soft and smooth; his lips glide over sections of it, the side of her neck, her collarbones, the base of her throat. Somewhere during it he gets his t-shirt out of the way and feels himself pulsate in his tracks and knows there’s no ignoring it longer, especially now that he thinks he knows where this is going.

“Chae.” Reluctantly, he pulls away again. At the sight of her swollen lips, flushed face and particularly her somewhat exasperated expression, he almost forgets what he was going to say. “Listen, I… this is…”

“Do you want to stop?” Her voice is even, but there’s a hint of disappointment he doesn’t miss.

“No,” he says immediately. “The… opposite. I just think I need to tell you…” He swallows, finding it hard to think straight amidst her raised eyebrows and her hand absently resting on his chest. “Um, so when this happens, when I - when I do… something like this… I tend to get kind of… carried away.” He swallows and waits for her to react, painfully conscious of her warm crotch against his, the hem of her shorts having ridden up all the way.

It seems to take Chaeyoung a few seconds to work out what he means. “Carried away?” she repeats. When he nods, she bites her lip and for the first time in a long time, he thinks he spots a hint of shyness. She bites her lip and her cheeks redden slightly, but she nods, tossing her tousled hair back and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Gotcha,” she mutters, and this time he kisses her.

The last time Hoseok had hooked up with a girl was almost a year ago. He’d been recording a song in Los Angeles and met her at a party and despite the fact that they didn’t have much to talk about, they’d carried on a casual fling for the three days that he’d been there, during which time she had remarked with some admiration that he had “the stamina and determination of an athlete”.

She hadn’t been the only girl to say this to him in his life, and Hoseok had gathered that this was just something he brought to the bedroom and probably didn’t need to apologise for it. He wouldn’t have actively warned anyone else, but Chaeyoung didn’t feel like just anyone. She knows now, though, and despite the fact that he would’ve thought she’d be the last person to ever know this about him, finally telling her, seeing her blush at his admission and her clear desire to keep going, lets loose what he’s been suppressing around her for a while now.

Deciding that Jimin would probably not want these track pants back, Hoseok pulls her closer to him before leaning forward and easing her onto her back. Her head hits the pillow and she looks momentarily surprised at the impact but Hoseok kisses her again and she responds instantly. She sighs against his mouth and he hardens, feeling it against the inside of her thigh, where she bends her leg at the knee and pushes her hips up to meet his.

One hand stays on the mattress to support him and the other runs down her body, past her waist and around her hips to stop between her legs. She’s warm through her shorts; the thought of what’s in there makes his cock throb and he palms her and squeezes. Her surprised moan fills the room and he pulls away from her mouth abruptly, reaching up to take off her shorts. The mismatched black panties make his erection even more apparent and he drops down to her body, kissing her sternum, her willowy ribcage, the smooth skin of her abdomen down to the elastic of her underwear where, without hesitation, he slips it down her legs. 

Hoseok glances up at her from between her legs, just in case he’s misreading anything, but the sight of her arched back, her closed eyes and long hair splayed on the white pillow wipe any and all doubts from his mind. 

Chaeyoung tastes incredible. Hoseok takes his time going down on her, starting with his lips on her thighs, exploring every single fold with his tongue before reaching her clit. It dulls his senses and heightens his desire at the same time, reeling him in as he holds her legs open, devouring her and welcoming the taste, the only other sensations being her fingers in his hair and her sweet, sweet voice moaning his name.

He knows when she’s about to cum; he pulls his hips to her face, hearing her gasp in between the sounds that are reaching higher and higher in pitch and frequency. She clutches at his hair just as she climaxes, her warm wetness filling his mouth and her legs trembling slightly as he sets them down. He sits up slowly, wiping his mouth with one hand while the other absently strokes her thigh, watching as her chest rises and falls in the aftermath of her orgasm, the orgasm he just gave her, and feels his heart jolt.

Hoseok crawls to her side to lie beside her, using his elbow for support and resting his head on his palm as he waits, patiently, for her to open her eyes. When she finally does, they’re slightly unfocused as they find him. He says nothing, but simply brushes her bangs out of her eyes.

“Wow,” she says softly. “I’m really glad I left my power bank on the bus.”

Hoseok chuckles and a moment later, both of them laugh.

—

It’s very nearly dawn - probably. 

The sky is dark outside and the sound of the rain outside is calming. The city is sprawled underneath them and the moon is the only source of light in their hotel room, the massive windows illuminating the bed, the rumpled sheets and Kaya’s naked body straddling his.

In the three years or so they’ve been together, their intimacy has never been a source of conflict or stress. It’s only ever been the opposite; whether it was distance or work or disagreements, the thought of her skin on his and her mouth on his body reduced triggered the most primal form of attraction, despite the cerebral aspect of their relationship he prided himself on so much. 

Sometimes she is under him: he loves the sight of her underneath his body, encased and safe, for his view only as he thrusts into her. Sometimes her back is to him and he pulls her in, feeling sensations and strength as their hips meet with force; sometimes it is against a wall or a table and she wraps her legs around his waist as they struggle to stay quiet, only their silent gasps mingling as he fucks her into a wall.

But nothing - nothing - compares to when she rides him.

He doesn’t know what it is - maybe it’s the visual of her entire body up there on display for him, her long hair falling down one shoulder as she rolls her hips into his, eyes closed and neck tilted up. Maybe it’s the way her back arches when she hits a sweet spot, and her head falls back as she moans, or maybe it’s the sight of her taking charge, speeding up and slowing down as she wishes, edging him until he’s compelled to grab her hips and take matters into his own hands.

They shouldn’t have maintained any hopes of getting any sleep tonight, not in the last precious hours of their trip before the morning arrives and after three amazing weeks, they have to part again. Even though they’d fallen asleep for a bit, it hadn’t been long before he’d been awoken by her tugging at his arm, waking him up to make love on their last night together, just as they’d done throughout the holiday.

Namjoon had lost count of the number of times they’d had sex by the third day of their trip. It had been impossible to stay away, to keep his hands off her, to resist her advances even if they appeared in semi-public. Throughout the trip - and possibly their entire relationship - those urgent sex sessions that began with filthy words and roaming hands in public and culminated in desperate and earth-shattering sex in private, dominated. 

She’s so beautiful. His eyes roam her naked body, committing it to memory until the next time they see each other, knowing it’s what will keep him going until they do. He moves one of his hands up her waist and to her chest, stopping underneath her breast before lightly brushing her nipple with his thumb. She bites her lip and moans softly, when a buzzing sound interrupts them.

Her frown deepens and the erotic sounds change as she groans in annoyance. Namjoon clicks his tongue and turns to look at his phone on the bedside table; the screen lights up and Hoseok’s name flashes on the incoming call. He reaches over and declines the call, just as he’d done the last time Hoseok had called five minutes ago. 

The call ends and Namjoon catches a glimpse of a trail of messages left by his friend, none of them particularly coherent, but Namjoon can’t begin to decipher them right now. In the last six hours, every single one of his members had called him at least once, all coincidentally during moments when he couldn’t or didn’t want to answer. They’d tried to leave him alone for most of the trip but apparently, they couldn’t keep it going for long.

A movement distracts him and he looks up to see Kaya sweeping her hair off her neck, her skin sweaty and glowing. All thoughts of his members clean out of his mind, he sits up and wraps his arm around her waist to flip them over.

—

The rain is deafening as Nari stares at him in silence. Seokjin’s eyes fall again to the papers in her hand and the thick socks on her feet, hoping she will respond soon.

“Seokjin,” she says slowly, “it’s not my birthday. My birthday is in -”

“May, I know.” His heart stutters slightly as he realises for the first time that coming here might have been somewhat stupid. “But we weren’t exactly on the best terms in May and I was on tour anyway… so today is kind of the next best thing.”

Nari frowns for a moment before it dawns on her. Her forehead clears and she starts to smile, pursing her lips in amusement. “Of course it is,” she agrees, nodding.

Massively relieved, Seokjin smiles back. “I’ll rephrase: happy half-birthday, Nari.”

She laughs. “Thanks. You did wish me over text, so it’s not like you forgot.”

“No, but an in-person wish is the bare minimum. I tried my best to make it here before midnight but the streets are fairly empty. I thought they’d be jammed all the way to Hongdae.”

“Yeah. Wait - you drove in this?” Her eyes widen and she glances at the window behind him. “Are you kidding? Is that why you’re wet?”

“Kinda - I had to run from my car to your building because there’s a pothole open right… there,” he answers, opening the window wider and pointing to where he’d left his car. Nari comes up next to him to look at it, resting her hand with the papers on the wall.

Unfortunately at that exact moment, a strong gust of wind blows through the street, making them flinch away and cover their faces, and a few of the sheets in her hand fly out of the window.

“No!” Nari shouts in panic, reaching for them as though hoping they will fly back to her.

“Shit, that was - wait, what the hell are you doing?” Seokjin watches in confusion as she darts back into her apartment and out of it in a second, her feet in slippers, and dashes down the corridor. “Nari!” He hurries after her as she runs down the stairs and out into the street, splashing in the direction of the papers.

“No, no, no…” She shakes her head and looks around wildly, wiping her wet hair off her face. She whips around to face him, blinking through the rain. “Help me look for them!” she yells.

“What are you talking about? Nari, they’re gone!” Seokjin yells back, still at the doorway of the building. When she doesn’t respond, however, stepping further into the puddles, he runs out after her. “Nari, you’re going to fall sick!” he says loudly over the rain as he reaches her, grabbing her arm and trying to tug her back.

“I can’t! Those were my notes from a medical seminar about a groundbreaking clinical trial!” she cries, still looking around. “I need them for my application to be a part of the research - and now they’re gone!” To his surprise, she turns around and hits him on the shoulder.

“Ow! Just print out another copy!” he yells back, rubbing his shoulder.

“They’re handwritten, you idiot!”

“What? You wrote notes in this day and age?” He asks incredulously. “What happened to the Macbook I got you for Christmas two years ago?”

“You know that typing distracts me while I take notes,” she reminds him, glaring as her wet hair sticks to her face. “What am I going to do?”

“What about your friends? Can’t you borrow their notes?”

“I - mine were colour coded with different highlighters!” she argues, but she takes a step back. “But… yeah, I guess I could. Damn it, Kimbap!” She slaps him on the arm again, but it’s lighter this time.

“Hey!” He reaches over and shoves her shoulder. “It’s not my fault!”

“Of course it is!” she retorts, shoving him back. 

“I came here to wish you a happy half-birthday because I missed your real one,” he points out, the rain starting to blur his vision. “And you gave me a lot of grief for it in middle school, in case you don’t remember.”

“I - that was - that was so different,” she stutters, before her shoulders fall. “But kind of accurate,” she mutters.

Seokjin scoffs, placing his hands on his hips. “You really thought you were going to find your notes floating around in the sky? The ink must be smudged beyond comprehension!”

“Don’t remind me,” she groans. “I worked really hard on that. And now we’re probably going to get hypothermia!”

He shrugs uncertainly, looking around the deserted street, the branches of the trees swaying and rivulets of water flowing down the street. Clearly there were kids playing on the street before the real downpour began, for a football, a couple of tennis balls, and a pair of what look like water guns have been abandoned on the pavement in front of the building.

“Didn’t you have one of those?” he asks, pointing to the guns.

Nari turns and her annoyed expression instantly fades. “Oh, yeah,” she says, chuckling. “I got it right after Eunbi’s birthday party where her parents took us all out to that water park. And, no, I didn’t forget,” she adds quickly, holding her hand up to him, “that you’re the one who got it for me.”

Seokjin nods in satisfaction. “I did - I had to save up for, like, four months for that. Was it your fifteenth?”

“Fourteenth.” She eyes the guns before looking back up at him. “We’re both thinking the same thing, right?”

“If we aren’t, then one of us is an imposter.”

She laughs and they sprint for the guns at the same time, grabbing one each and immediately filling it with water from the puddles on the road. Seokjin reaches them first but waits for Nari to shoot him first, feeling it hit his shoulder as she cackles, and proceeding to return the favour. It’s a complete one-eighty from when they’d run out of the building five minutes ago, in a state of confusion and disarray, only to be using water guns for the first time in over a decade while the city of Seoul drowns in the rain.

“Ugh - that one was right in the face, Nari!” He shouts after a bit, wiping his eyes as she hoots in the background. “That’s not fair!”

“I have better aim than you - just accept it, Kimbap,” she crows, coming over and peering at him from a distance. “You’re fine. Now come on!”

“I think you just blinded me, you ghoul,” he accuses her, blinking rapidly. When she comes closer, frowning slightly, he raises his gun and shoots her right on the college logo in the middle of her sweatshirt.

Nari gasps. “That’s - I’m going to get you for that, I swear to God!” They resume play, splashing through the puddles and laughing whenever they get in a good shot, until she aims at him and pulls the trigger, only for nothing to come out.

“Oh, shit - okay, hold it! I’ve been compromised!” she declares, checking her gun frantically as Seokjin narrows his eyes, wondering if it’s a tactic.

She looks up, panting slightly. “Okay, I think I may have broken some kid’s water gun.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes!” She nods, jogging over to the pavement and dropping the gun where they found it. “Shit! I’m going to have to buy this kid another one, aren’t I?”

“I - probably!” Seokjin joins her and places his gun neatly next to it. “I don’t know. Do you even know whose it is?”

“Not really.” She swallows and looks up at him, wiping her hair out of her eyes again. “Or… I don’t know - who leaves their shit outside like this instead of taking it home? Anything could have happened to it!”

“You’re right,” he says. “Anything could have happened to it!”

She raises her eyebrows at his tone, which he returns with an incorrect shrug. A smile spreads across her face and she shakes her head. “I guess that’s true!”

Seokjin winks at her conspiratorially and she laughs, raising her hand. She presumably intends it to be a high-five and he obliges, but somewhere along the way, in the rain and wet sweatshirts and water ricocheting off every surface, they reach for each other and meet in a kiss.

Something explodes in Seokjin’s stomach and the aftershocks continue even after it’s gone. It’s a new sensation, with the water and the cold and the entirely unexpected nature of how it occurred, but before he can wrap his head around it, she pulls away.

The rain pours around them, a ridiculous secret about water guns in the middle, but now that the guns are gone and so are her notes and it’s just them remaining, the cracks start to form.

“Shit,” she mutters, squeezing her eyes shut and dropping her head.

Seokjin doesn’t saything, the bursts in his stomach now dwindling away to form a knot that feels uncomfortably like guilt. “I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely, taking a step back but she shakes her head.

“It’s not right,” she states, her voice trembling slightly. “You have a girlfriend and I have… it’s not right,” she repeats, swallowing and looking up at him, seemingly with some effort.

There’s nothing more to say. Seokjin feels a dangerous lump in his throat, the impending complications looming before him. “I’m going to go,” he says, turning around and feeling defeated.

“Seokjin.” Nari tugs at his sleeve. “Just… hypothermia.”

“Come again?”

“You’ll get hypothermia.” Nari opens her mouth to say something else but then closes it. A moment later, she gestures to the building. “You need to towel dry your hair, and drink something warm. And… at least put on a dry hoodie before you leave.”

He’s about to decline; he wants to get out of here, suddenly be as far away from here as possible before his mind goes into overdrive. But his fingers are frozen - he may not even be able to grip the steering wheel properly. Plus… Nari is asking. She’s really asking, meaning what she says and after a moment, Seokjin nods.

Apparently convinced that he’s listening to her, she beckons to him and they walk back into the building together.

—

Yoongi can’t believe how this night is turning out. He’d pictured it so differently: prepping for the meeting in the morning, calming his nerves during the drive from Seoul to Incheon, finishing the meeting and hopefully securing the investment he needed, having the rest of the evening to himself. 

Most of all, for once, he and Miso would get a few hours outside of the office and away from the Seoul elite. Her father is abroad for work and it shows; she’s far less on edge and the fact that Seungkwan hasn’t paraglided onto the doorstep of their motel room to whisk her back to her prison is proof of that.

Taking her on a date seemed like an alien concept, in those words, at least. He didn’t know if that was actually something he wanted and he definitely couldn’t imagine her ever agreeing to one either. But he reckoned that even just a day away, seeing her with her guard down, actually spending time with her, hooking up in his car before he dropped her seemed like something to look forward to.

That’s what he reckoned.

“What is wrong with you that you can’t see how fucked up it is that you don’t care what the outcome of your behavior is?” he demands, standing by the edge of the bed, next to the bathroom door. 

“My behaviour? You know what - I’m sorry, Yoongi,” she snaps. She’s at the other end of the tiny room by the window,  the curtains blow in the wind entering through the cracks, brushing her arm. “I’m so sorry that I ruined your precious meeting that no one senior from the company couldn’t even be bothered to make it.”

“It’s for my tour!” he bursts, livid now - and frustrated, because while he’s admitted why it matters so much to him, it’s a coin toss to see whether she will care. “I’m going on tour next year so yeah, I’m the one that needs to secure the investment!”

“If you’re going on tour, you’re still doing it for the company!” Miso points out with irritating condescension. “You’ll be making them money and losing sleep and working yourself to death - and they couldn’t be bothered to have someone from management come with you?”

“I chose you,” he says bitterly, shaking his head and turning away. “The board suggested it and I pushed for it. And now I’m starting to regret it.”

“Why wouldn’t you? Just a proof of concept, right?” she sneers, although it lacks its usual bite. She folds her arms. “All I had to do was sit there and shut up and let my last name do all the work. No wonder you chose me.”

Yoongi sinks onto the chair next to him and drops his head into his hands, tired. There’s no explaining this to her; it’s too complicated. He would have to reveal things he’s barely acknowledged himself, only for her to get defensive and throw it back at him.

He struggles but forces himself to recall how she’d switched teams and taken her name off a record for him, ages ago. Where is she, though? Her disdain for the company and its dependence on her father’s money is expected, but he can’t fathom why she wouldn’t care that she’s sabotaged his future, too.

“You’re not a proof of concept,” he says hoarsely, trying again. “I shouldn’t have said you were.” He looks up at her hopefully, only to see her face still and stony. “And I get it - I get that you thought you were trying to defend me, but -“ He shakes his head. “God, Miso, all he did was act aloof and say that rap doesn’t sound like real music to him - which a lot of people think,” he adds quickly. “I don’t agree but who cares what he thinks? You insulted him and his business to his face and just be honest, alright? You did that because you knew he couldn’t touch you, because he knows who your father is.”

A dark shadow passes across her face. “I promise you, my father is not who I was thinking of at that moment,” she says coldly. 

“No, but you were able to say all that because you knew you’d get away with it,” he presses. “You’ve never had to face a single consequence in your life so you just -“

“Fuck me - you don’t think I’ve face consequences?” she interrupts furiously. “You wouldn’t last one fucking week in my life, Min Yoongi,” she spits, pointing a finger at him. “You and your self-righteous bullshit would be crushed under my father’s shoe, believe me.”  

“But you’re still there, aren’t you?” Yoongi retorts, standing up and shrugging. “If you’re facing all these consequences then why aren’t you - God, Miso, why don’t you just leave?” he asks, and his voice cracks on the last word.

He knows she’s heard it, too, because she doesn’t respond immediately. He retreats; it’s a thought he’s managed not to say out loud to her so far, despite wondering about it constantly, because there’s no telling how much he would be prying. Going to find out now, I suppose, he thinks grimly.

“That’s - it’s complicated,” she mutters, turning away from him. 

“What is complicated?”

“It’s not as easy as just packing up and leaving,” she snaps. “There’s a lot more in the picture.”

“What are you talking about? You’re twenty-nine - most people your age are living alone,” he points out, frowning incredulously. “You must have savings, don’t you? Just - just find an apartment and leave. Or - or you can stay with me until you find something, but at least try -”

Yoongi breaks off when she takes a deep breath and exhales loudly, suddenly feeling like a child explaining things to an adult. It makes him fume.

“You know,” he starts again, then pauses. “You keep talking about how terrible your life is. Your shiny, perfect life on the outside but behind that, with your narcissistic parents and stalker of a driver who follows you everywhere. But you have to get out of it yourself, Miso. You can take help where you need it but you’re the one who’s going to have to take the first step.”

She scoffs. “Why? Because there are no handouts in the real world?”

“Yes,” he answers immediately. “You’re clearly unhappy but… why are you still there? In your father’s house, under his thumb? Is it because you’re scared? Because… I don’t know, you think the heir to the Kang empire can’t leave or something?”

Miso’s stance doesn’t change but there’s a flicker in her eyes. Her face relaxes minutely and she exhales again, but this time it isn’t impatience. Yoongi can’t be completely sure, but he thinks it might be relief.

“Oh, my God.” The words come out without thinking. “I’m right? You’re not leaving because you’re the heir to his fortune?” As he says it, Yoongi knows he is right. Her father’s words from the dinner come back to his mind, as does her evasiveness when he’d questioned her about it in his studio.

Something contracts in his ribcage; the air isn’t reaching his lungs fast enough or his lungs aren’t accepting it or… he closes his eyes and takes a deep, deep breath, feeling his stomach slowly start to loosen, just enough to keep him standing up.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” he asks, watching how she doesn’t seem caught or surprised. “You’re the heir to his… what did he call it? His legacy? His fortune?”

Miso doesn’t answer immediately, but her eyes shutter over a bit. “I deserve it, don’t you think?” she asks quietly. “After everything he’s put me through?”

“Really? So you’ve been taking his bullshit all these years because you know you’ll get Kang Industries at the end of it? That’s what your freedom is worth?”

“Two hundred billion dollars?” She shrugs, but doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’ll take it.”

Yoongi sighs shakily; somewhere, he knows he hasn’t processed this fully, that it will hit him in full force later, what it really means. But for now, he just wants to know.

“Are you serious? After everything you’ve told me about him, every time you’ve looked so scared of him - all of that is worth it because he’s going to give you his company when he retires in twenty years?” He’s bewildered, angry, disappointed. “And you’re just going to keep taking it?”

“He doesn’t have any other children,” she says. “He has no choice. One day, he’s going to have to look me in the eye, sign over his company to me and know that his life’s work is in my hands.”

“Two hundred billion dollars,” he repeats.

“Sounds like a fair deal.” She scoffs again, but there’s no force behind it. “But I’m sure you think it’s money-hungry or egotistical for me to think that.”

“No,” he says. “I think it’s sad.”

She licks her lips and swallows. “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” she whispers, but her voice trembles. “I’m making the best of my situation, something you will never understand.”

And Yoongi explodes.

“You think I don’t know what making the best of a situation feels like? Are you serious?” he shouts. “I delivered food to people to pay rent! I couldn’t afford the bus, or dinner! I made music using a second hand laptop and knocked on the doors of producers before getting the Big hit audition - an audition!” He glares, panting slightly. “I had to audition for the opportunity to make something of myself - not be born into two hundred million!”

“Are we back to this again? I grew up with money and you didn’t so that makes you a more morally superior person somehow?” she demands.

“No, but it makes you a hypocrite!” he retorts. “All this time, I thought you were different but you’re just like them! You’re a regular old chaebol who’s selling out for the money - except you’re selling away your entire life for it! Can’t you see how fucked up that is?”

“For two hundred billion? You’re right - I am a chaebol,” she states, her cheeks flushing now. “I was born into it and I can’t do anything about it. But that’s how it is, okay? Every single time my father has treated me or my mother or anybody else like crap, it’s been for his company. For his money. And one day, I’m going to be in charge of it.”

“But what about your life? Fucking hell!” Yoongi kicks the edge of the bed in frustration, noting how she flinches very slightly. “Your father’s money, your money - there’s a world outside money, Miso! There’s family, there’s friends and loyalty and - and passion and love - and so much else!”

Miso frowns incredulously, then gives a harsh, derisive laugh. “Family? Friends, love… what - what the hell are you talking about? You sound like a children’s book, Yoongi,” she accuses, scoffing. “My father added a bonus to my trust fund every time I got a good grade - that’s the extent to which we’ve been a family.” She shakes her head but a flash of lightning lights up her face for a moment and even through her glasses, Yoongi is startled to see her eyes wet. 

“I get it, but -”

“No, you don’t! Where the hell do you get off acting so high and mighty, huh?” she argues. “You’ve spent this whole evening bitching at me because you didn’t get an investment for your little tour! Isn’t that about money, too?”

“That’s different! That’s for my job, that’s for - it - “ He struggles to articulate it, realising he never thought he would have to. “It’s not a fucking coping mechanism, Miso! Because that’s what you’re doing - you’re using this heir thing to cope with your family’s bullshit!” he points out. “You’ve never even mentioned this to me in two years!”

“Yeah, telling you I’m the heir to my father’s company would’ve worked out great for our relationship,” she snarls, rolling her eyes. “You could’ve added chaebol to the nepo kid crap you kept giving me.”

“Don’t turn this on me,” he says dismissively. “The only time I’ve ever seen you care about anything has been music, when you’re stuck in the studio for hours and hours, eating cold takeout and Diet Coke! You don’t care about the company - that’s just what you’re telling yourself. What - do you go to sleep screaming two hundred billion two hundred billion into your pillow every night?”

“Watch yourself, Min Suga,” she snarls, her eyes flashing.

But Yoongi is too far gone right now. Everything seems unfamiliar and his only defense is offense. “You’re putting up with all this crap - you’re giving up your whole life just so you can inherit your father’s billions! At this rate, you’re probably going to turn out just like him!”

In a flash of a movement, the cordless phone hits the wall next to him and crashes to the ground at his feet. 

“Get out.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice. He turns around and wrenches the door open, stepping out and slamming it shut behind him. He needs air - fresh, rainy air and space to breathe. It’s still raining, albeit not as heavily as before, so Yoongi makes his way under the roofed area to the end of the corridor and lights a cigarette, wondering if he should just drive back to Incheon.

The thought disappears as soon as it enters his mind. He smokes in silence, his heart heavy and disappointed, but most of all angry at how he’d never considered this possibility at all.

Or had he? Yoongi struggles to remember. Hadn’t he always had some amount of contempt for her and what she represented? Where had it changed? Was it when he’d started seeing her as a victim of her situation, too - and if had, had he been completely wrong about all of it?

Not all of it, a voice reasons in his mind. Yoongi remembers the bruises on her wrist, her agitation the entire day leading up to the dinner at her house. She hadn’t been faking that. She’d seemed like a cornered animal just now but the brand new realisation he’d made made her seem like a completely different person. Yoongi doesn’t want to think about why that hurts so much that he can’t breathe.

“Uh… sir?”

Yoongi turns tiredly to see the receptionist back at her desk, a dim lamp lighting the small area up. The brilliant green of her earrings match the lone fake plant at the end of the desk. 

“You’re not allowed to smoke here.” She points to a sign on the wall.

He pauses but doesn’t get rid of the cigarette immediately. “Why not?” he asks, hearing the defeated, almost-whine in his own voice. “There’s no one here and we’re outdoors…” He doesn’t have the energy to argue further, simply waving his hands to indicate the rest.

The receptionist evidently doesn’t have an answer to this; if anything, she looks just as tired to care. Her eyes fall to the cigarette in his hand, her right hand twitches, and she looks away.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows and fishes the pack out of his pocket. “Would you like one?”

Her eyes widen and she opens her mouth to answer, before abruptly looking around, presumably to see if anyone else is there. She steps out from behind her desk and hesitantly picks out a cigarette, lowering her head in thanks, and taking the lighter he offers.

“Do you live around here?” he asks after a minute, since she continues smoking next to him. He looks around as well at the rain, wondering how anyone is supposed to get the hell out of here.

“I live in Seoul,” she answers. “But I’m working the night shift tonight and also it’s raining…” She trails off.

“You come here every day from Seoul?”

“Yes, there’s a bus.” She pauses. “I like Incheon more but my siblings go to school in Seoul and… well, I heard there are better schools in Seoul.” 

He nods, not actually knowing whether that’s true. “Are you from Incheon? Because you don’t sound like it,” he adds, having recognised an accent in some of her words.

“Oh… no. I’m from Daegu, actually.”

She sounds almost ashamed of it, until Yoongi says, “Yeah? So am I.”

Something changes in her face and she smiles a bit, still looking exhausted. “Good to know,” she says, her accent suddenly changing completely to a Daegu one. “My parents still live there. Do you go back home often?” she asks.

“Not as often as I’d like.” He looks up when she tosses the butt of her cigarette on the ground and kicks it off the elevated corridor. When he offers her another, she shakes her head.

“No, thank you.” She gives him a small smile again, the green of her earrings catching a flash of lightning. “Thank you for the smoke. Good night.” As abruptly as she’d appeared, she turns around and disappears into a small room behind the desk labelled “Staff”.

Yoongi lights another one and takes a long drag. It occurs to him suddenly that he should’ve asked for the receptionist’s name, the one from Daegu who’s working a night shift before returning to Seoul in the morning, to the younger siblings she’s clearly the guardian for. 

There’s more than a little that’s familiar there. It makes no sense, he reflects with some chagrin, how he’s now found himself so deep in the water with the most unfamiliar of people, a chaebol he met at his work because of a nepotistic hire. His people were like the receptionist, hard workers from the provinces who came to the capital and worked to the bone, doing what they could to take care of their families. 

Miso wasn’t his people. He hadn’t ever assumed she was, but this chasm between them, vast and of unfathomable depth, had never seemed this large. 

He eventually finishes his cigarette, followed by a third, before he deems it time to go back to the room. He doesn’t want to argue with Miso anymore - he truthfully doesn’t think he can. But it’s late and he’s tired and the small burning hope of a temporary reconciliation fuels his legs to move.

He opens the door quietly. “Miso?” he murmurs, stepping in to see the room dark. The only light is a dim one by the door, just enough for him to see Miso on the bed, right at the edge, curled up and asleep. He doesn’t move for a few moments, wondering how long she’s been asleep or if she even really is.

But she doesn’t move either and finally, Yoongi slips out of his shoes and steps into the room, turning off the light on his way. Only a sliver of moonlight giving him any visual aid at all, he reaches the bed. It’s small, but she’s taken only about a quarter of it. 

He reaches over and gently slips off her glasses, folding them and placing them over her body on her bedside table. Then he slips under the covers on his side and closes his eyes, hoping to get some sleep.

—

Dilara wakes up to a blue sky and an empty hotel room, in a bed that’s too big for her, and extremely, extremely frustrated.

She has to be out on the track in a few hours, in the cold winds of Austin, Texas in November. But for now she’s in a warm bed under cozy covers, keenly aware that she isn’t wearing pajamas. 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why during this weekend in particular it’s so hard to ignore the fact that she’s alone, without Taehyung. It is, technically, around the time of their anniversary and this very hotel is where they’d officially become a couple two years ago. 

She’d started feeling sentimental about it a few days ago and she knew he had, too. It was generally a romantic time and had they been in the same city, they would’ve made the best of it. Unfortunately, she has a race and he has some meeting at the company headquarters tomorrow that he can’t miss, and their anniversary weekend is pushed by another week.

There is something exciting about the distance and longing, too. A couple of days ago, she’d been texting Taehyung while he’d been at lunch with his friends, the messages getting progressively more explicit. He’d told her to cut it out but had also accompanied it with a subtle picture of his denim-covered crotch and his hand in the frame, clearly taken under a table. 

The entire experience, including when he’d abruptly stopped responding for about ten minutes, had been so hot and so incredibly arousing, that Dilara had been waiting for another opportunity for another remote quickie.

She rolls over and picks up her phone, scrolling to their chat.

Dilara [08:10] Hey you

Tae [08:10] Hey beautifulJust woke up?

Dilara [08:11] Mhm. Had a really nice dream.

Tae [08:11] Oh yeah? Was I in it?

Dilara [08:11]Oh you definitely came in it

Tae [08:13] What are you wearing?

Dilara [08:13] Just underwearBut I’ll probably take it off soonI woke up with it really wet

Tae [08:14] Come on Zoom right now

Feeling her heart toss and her abdomen clench, she reaches over for her tablet on the side table and flips it open. Scrambling out of the blanket, she piles a couple of cushy pillows in front of her and places the tablet on it, balancing it neatly on the cover. She opens the Zoom app and checks the view on the preview screen, to see herself leaning against the remaining pillow, her face and entire body visible at the perfect angle.

Satisfied, she enters the meeting. Taehyung is already on the screen, his long black hair falling casually into his eyes, looking freshly washed and on their way to drying. He looks up and there’s a momentary smile that flickers across his face, interrupting the tension-filled atmosphere. It disappears quickly, though, and she sees him lean back and tilt his chin up. 

He’s in his bedroom on the floor, sitting against his closet door with his laptop presumably on the bed, also positioned perfectly so she can see him perched nonchalantly, relaxed and in the forefront, only his bedroom door and a corner of his bedside table in the frame.

“You told me you were just wearing your underwear,” he notes.

Dilara nods, silently taking off her t-shirt, leaving almost all of herself completely exposed. It’s working already; she rubs her legs together in anticipation, wishing he were here in person to put her out of her misery.

“Good.” Taehyung is silent for a few moments, his gaze burning into her even through the screen. He palms his crotch, almost absently, and then flicks his head once. “Show me where it’s wet.”

Licking her lips, she bends her legs at the knees and spreads them, moving her hand down between them and pressing her fingers to her core. “Right there,” she confirms softly, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes.

“Does that feel good?” His voice is low, deep and raspy. When she nods, he leans forward. “Do it again. And don’t stop.”

Dilara obliges, resting her head back on the pillow and rubbing herself through her underwear, her back arching slightly and her other hand twitching. Fortunately, he takes his cue.

“Squeeze your boobs for me,” he murmurs, sighing quietly when she obeys. “Flick your tits - like that, exactly. Play with your nipples.”

This was exactly what she needed; feeling his eyes on her, his voice commanding her and every single nerve ending alert and awake. “I’m really fucking wet, Tae,” she groans, opening her eyes to glance briefly at him.

“Take it off, then. Show me that beautiful pussy.” She can hear his sharp intake of breath when she slips her underwear down her legs and spreads them again. “Wider,” he says hoarsely. “I want you to rub that clit till you cum all over your fingers.”

She hums in pleasure, her moans growing in volume as she holds onto his voice, thick with arousal, and pictures his fingers inside her, his lean naked body against hers, her nipples in his mouth and his thick, hard cock pulsating against her thigh…

“Like what you see, baby?” Dilara opens her eyes again to see his bottom lip between his teeth and a deep frown on his forehead. “God, I wish I had your cock in my mouth right now…”

This time, he takes the cue. Swearing gruffly under his breath, he slips his tracks down his hips and frees his erection, the drops of pre cum glistening on his tip. His breathing gets choppier as he strokes himself and Dilara feels a familiar clench in her stomach once again.

She squeezes her eyes shut, able to focus on nothing but her fingers, her wetness starting to coat them and the knowledge that across the world, Kim Taehyung is coming undone just watching her pleasure herself. 

“Oh, God,” she whispers. “Tae, I’m - I’m close…”

Taehyung says something, louder than before and her heart skips a beat: has she made him cum already? Just as she starts to reach the base of her orgasm and she hears him say something else, her eyes snap open - because that is not Taehyung’s voice.

“Lara!” Taehyung’s voice rings loud this time and she straightens up to see, unmistakably, another person in the room. 

Dilara gasps and rolls out of the frame, her leg getting caught in the covers and causing her to tumble down onto the soft carpet. Her heart races, partly due to the mortification at being caught and partly due to the orgasm that was so rudely cut short. She yanks the throw from the chair next to the bed and wraps it haphazardly around herself, even though no one can see her anymore.

From the tablet, she can hear Taehyung go, in an annoyed voice, “What? Do you want to watch or something?”, followed by the other person - it’s Jungkook’s voice - going “Sorry, sorry, oh, my God -” and the sound of the door closing.

Dilara still doesn’t move, not until she hears Taehyung’s voice call her name. 

“Is he gone?” she asks, gingerly climbing back onto the bed and keeping herself covered.

“Yeah.” Taehyung’s pants are hitched back up around his hips and he looks just as exasperated and disappointed as she feels, though seemingly minus the embarrassment. “Sorry… Namjoon broke the lock to my room and Jungkook just - what’s the word? Like, came in suddenly -”

“Barged in,” she mutters, settling back up in front of the camera. “You guys really need to learn how to knock.”

“We really do,” he agrees. He tilts his head apologetically, as though trying to gauge her exact mood. “Are you okay?”

“I am. I think JK was more traumatised than either of us, though,” she adds, cracking a small smile. Taehyung’s eyes twinkle, and they both burst out laughing.

—

One, two, three and four! Five and six, seven and -

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut as the next step slips his mind. He forces himself to focus, humming Dionysus under his breath to keep his mind trained solely on the choreography, recalling every step and every movement and every muscle and every expression -

Oh, God… I’m - I’m close…

He grunts in annoyance as he turns on the shower in his bathroom, starting the routine from the beginning in his mind. He needs to focus - on Dionysus, on the Kyla Hanagami video he’d encountered on Instagram this morning, his gym routine today - on anything except his best friend’s girlfriend, naked and pleasuring herself.

His she’s my friend, she’s my friend mantra had been working ever since Taehyung had said it, and Jungkook had managed to convince himself that that’s all it was. He loves his friends, all his friends, and she was just that, a friend, a close friend, a close naked friend whose ribs jutted out just the tiniest bit as her back arched, whose tanned legs and small feet involuntarily pointed and dug into the covers as her voice got higher…

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

But the damage is done. He covers his face with his hands as the hot water falls from the shower; the choreography to Dionysus or whatever the hell he’d been trying to recall is clean out of the window by now. The image of Dilara, so naked and so hot and so insanely beautiful is burned into his mind and he doesn’t imagine it can ever leave.

It’s so wrong. It was so wrong of him to even catch a glimpse of it, accidental as it had been; it was so wrong to be unable to forget it, and it’s so wrong of his cock to be so hard in his hand right now.

She’s my friend. She’s my friend. She’s my…

The mantra continues, but it settles somewhere far behind in his mind, a different sort of instinct taking over. His hand moves of its own accord and he exhales softly, knowing he can’t stop now. She’s my friend that I accidentally saw naked, his mind tries to amend weakly, even as he sees only one thing behind his closed eyes. 

Her high-pitched whines, ones he can hear ringing in his ears, mix with his lower, quicker, more frustrated grunts. His hand goes up to the wall for support as he reaches his climax, spilling over his fingers until he’s spent. He opens his eyes slowly, watching the evidence of his slip wash away into the drain. 

His heart starts to slow down as he realises what he’s just done, and his stomach sinks low into his body.

—

November in Seoul rolls around unexpectedly soon and occupies its usual position: a harbinger of the cold and white winter months, making the heat and humidity of summer a distant memory.

With BTS’s world tour officially at an end, followed by its normal uptick in concert clips and dance challenges floating around the internet while the company celebrates amidst figurative piles of cash, the members finally have the luxury of a few weeks off work where seeing them off stage and in casuals is the new novelty.

This includes Namjoon as well. After a tumultuous year of heartbreak and pain and longing, along with the real and genuine fear that he may have to give up the girl of his dreams due to extenuating circumstances, he and Kaya mutually decide that they need time away to reconnect with each other. Leaving behind their homes in Seoul and Amsterdam respectively, they reunite at Auckland Airport from where they take a cab in relative anonymity to begin their vacation.

With Namjoon gone, the company automatically takes it easy on the group as well. With Namjoon gone, the members manage to relax, able to keep an additional distance between them and the company before work inevitably starts again and the nomadic life of sleepless nights, dance practices and event appearances resurface.

Perhaps they underestimate their leader’s role in their lives, or it simply does not occur to them just how dependent they all are on each other after a decade of working, living and breathing in synchronicity. Namjoon is only gone for three weeks in total - but with Namjoon gone, all hell breaks loose.

With Namjoon gone, one member crosses a line.

With Namjoon gone, one member unintentionally makes a mess.

With Namjoon gone, one member makes a joke without realising its consequences.

With Namjoon gone, one member does something he’s ashamed of.

And with Namjoon gone, two members kiss someone they shouldn’t.

—

“Screen, food, lights - check.” Jimin tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as he frowns at his phone screen, eyes flitting between it and the writing pad he’s hastily scribbling on. “Need to pick up the champagne - oi, Jungkook, can you give me a ride to the liquor store? My car is getting serviced this weekend.”

“What about your Toyota?”

“It’s at my apartment. That’s farther than the liquor store.”

Jungkook pauses and looks up from the stove, across the kitchen island from Jimin. “Wait, the liquor store is in the building. Why do you need -”

“Not that liquor store,” interrupts Jimin patiently. “I need to go to the one in Gangnam, which has the tasting menu and assortments.”

“Why -“

“Because it’s Sooah’s birthday,” answers Taehyung from where he’s lying down on the sofa, scrolling through his phone and not bothering to look up. “Normal champagne won’t cut it. Not for Kim Sooah.”

Hoseok frowns, coming up from behind Jimin and peering at the writing pad. “Why not? Wait - why do you need professional lighting and sound equipment?” he asks, reading from it. “And food from Golden Pig? I thought the lunch was at MOBO Bar. Hang on -“ He looks bewildered. “Isn’t her birthday tomorrow?”

“The lunch tomorrow is for all her friends,” supplies Jungkook, pouring a steaming pot of cooked ramen into a bowl. “Tonight is just hyung and Sooah.”

“Yes, and don’t anyone be late tomorrow.” Jimin reminds them in a business-like tone, continuing to check things on his phone and tick them off. “I know you guys have to film a thing tomorrow morning, but make sure you come straight there. And, seriously - can anyone drive me to the liquor store or not?”

“I have a Zoom meeting starting in five minutes,” says Hoseok, clapping him on the back, “or I totally would. What about Yoongi?”

“He’s not here. He left for a meeting in Incheon this morning,” chimes in Jungkook again. “Won’t be back until later.”

“How much later -” Hoseok starts to ask, but is cut off by Jimin huffing.

“So no one can take me to the liquor store?” he demands. “Which is, like, twenty minutes away? I wish Namjoon hyung were here,” he adds sullenly, shaking his head. “He would’ve driven me.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” says Hoseok indulgently. “Taehyung, you can take him. Your car has a ton of extra space, too.”

“I’m busy,” answers Taehyung listlessly, still on his phone. When no one responds, he looks up to see all the other three staring at him. “Fine, I guess I could,” he agrees with a huge sigh, clambering off the sofa and trudging to the dining table, sliding into the seat adjacent to Jimin’s.

Jimin narrows his eyes. “It’s not such a big deal, you know. You can just give me your keys if you want.”

“Yeah, why are you in such a mood today, anyway?” Hoseok asks, his hands on the back of Jimin’s chair.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, running his hands over his unwashed face. “I’m just…” He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Hungry, I guess.”

“Hungry?”

“That’s code for horny,” says Jimin, raising his eyebrows nonchalantly when Taehyung looks up to glare at him, but doesn’t disagree.

Hoseok snorts as Jungkook joins them with his ramen, silently sitting across from Taehyung. “That must be some dry spell if you can’t help out your buddy,” he says, a bit pointedly.

Taehyung observes Jimin for a moment, then sighs. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s go to the liquor store. I’ll help you look for the best champagne out there - and since you’re not driving, you can try every single thing on the tasting menu,” he offers in a moment of generosity.

Jimin’s head snaps up from his phone. “Really?” When Taehyung nods, relief floods his cherubic face. “Thank God. Because I - I really need tonight to be absolutely perfect -”

“I know, I know,” interrupts Taehyung, clapping him on the shoulder and standing up. “I’ll just grab a quick shower and we’ll go. Jungkook,” he says, waiting for the younger member to look up in surprise. “Want to come along?”

Jungkook, who’s polished most of his bowl clean by now, looks up at him with wide eyes. “Me?”

“Yeah,” answers Taehyung evenly. “Why not?”

There’s a flicker of doubt in Jungkook’s eyes which he seems to partially blink away. “Yeah. Yeah, no, yeah - I mean - sure.” He scoops up a large bite of noodles with his chopsticks and inhales it. “Jus’ give me a minute,” he says through a mouthful of food.

Taehyung nods. “Ramen looks good,” he says after a moment. “Can I have a bite?”

Jungkook nods instantly and pushes the bowl across the table. Taehyung takes a bite, slurping the sauce until he’s swallowed the entire thing. “Delicious,” he says honestly, waiting just long enough to see Jungkook smile before turning around and heading into his room.

—

“This one’s fruity,” decides Jimin, smacking his lips and frowning seriously. He places the small glass down and picks up another, giving it a sniff and proceeding to take a sip. “But this one is definitely more bubbly.”

It takes a lot for a liquor store to provide a tasting menu for champagne, but for the correct price, it can be done. Taehyung isn’t entirely sure how much Jimin has paid for this particular round of testers but he gives his honest opinions, careful to keep his friend’s spirits high for today.

It hadn’t occurred to him back at the house, but it seems obvious now why Jimin is so anxious about tonight. If Taehyung’s hunch is correct, it’s because it’s Sooah’s first birthday since they’ve gotten back together after years of sniping and occasionally hooking up, and Jimin has taken on the pressure to make it perfect to the next level.

“I like this one.” Jungkook points to a bottle on the shelf. “We had it after the last concert, remember?”

Jimin looks up briefly and shakes his head. “Chandon is the last resort, if I find nothing better today. Come on, it’s Sooah’s birthday. Chandon is way too basic.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows but says nothing, his eyes meeting Taehyung’s, who takes his hunch to be correct.

“I’m going to go see if there are any other bottles at the back,” says Taehyung, leaving Jimin to overthink the little glasses of bubbly liquid. He stops by one of the staff and leans in. “Can you bill a Chandon anyway?” he asks in a low voice. “Just in case?”

“Of course. Should I combine it with Mr Park’s other purchases?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Put it on my tab.”

The staff nods and takes a bottle up to the register as Taehyung turns the corner to another shelf full of champagne, Jungkook a few steps behind him.

“That was nice,” he comments, hovering at the edge of the shelf.

“He deserves it,” mutters Taehyung, feeling slightly guilty about his standoffish behaviour at the dorm a little while ago. “Guy’s stressing way too much. I know Sooah will love whatever he’s planning. She’s chill that way.” He pauses. “What is he planning, anyway?”

“I mean, I don’t know all the details but I think it’s one of those movie screening things at the park.”

“In public? At the park? What - are they going to sit in the back and pour out champagne while everyone else is drinking cokes and beers?”

“What? No, he rented out the whole park,” explains Jungkook. “It’s just them, with a huge screen and seating and food - and champagne, I guess. He’s got professional sound equipment and heating and blankets and everything. He really went all out.”

Taehyung stares, a bit horrified but mostly impressed. “Wow. That actually sounds really romantic.”

“It does,” agrees Jungkook absently, peering at the label of a bottle where he’s still standing at the end of the aisle. “I just hope it goes well.”

“So do I. And I hope it doesn’t rain,” he points out. “It’s been drizzling every day and raining in parts of the city. It could really put a damper on the whole outdoor movie thing.”

“Yeah. Hopefully it won’t.”

“Hopefully.”

A slightly awkward silence falls over them. Taehyung glances over at him to see him pick up a bottle of whiskey from the opposite shelf. He turns the bottle over in his hands before looking at the price tag, letting out a low whistle and placing the bottle back.

“What about you?” When Jungkook looks up, Taehyung continues. “Any plans today?”

“Uh, not really.” He pauses. “I have a date, actually. Kind of.”

“Yeah? With the tattoo artist?” When he nods, Taehyung grins. “Nice. Why aren’t you more excited about it, though?”

Jungkook gives a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t know. I was thinking of blowing it off. Going to the gym, maybe. Namjoon hyung usually joins me on Fridays and we spot each other on the bench press but I guess I’ll have to go alone today. Unless you want to come along?” he asks hesitantly.

Taehyung had spent a couple of hours at the gym yesterday but he nods anyway. “I’d love to, but why are you avoiding your date?”

“I’m not avoiding it. I haven’t worked out in, like… three days.”

“So come back and work out.” Taehyung frowns. “I have nothing to do all day so I’ll be here whenever. You may want to go easier on the weights with me, though.”

Jungkook chuckles, sounding relieved. “Give yourself a little more credit than that, hyung.”

“Please. Namjoon broke the lock on my bedroom door with one hand the day he left when he was looking for a spare set of Airpods.” Taehyung shakes his head. “He’s a menace, and he just adds to it whenever he starts working out.”

Jungkook laughs. “We’re definitely less clumsy in the gym than he is, that’s for sure. Is seven pm good for you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Dilara has been pestering me to give boxing a shot, so, you know. Tonight might be the night.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, of course. That’s a good idea. I mean -” He shakes his head, as though getting rid of a fly. “It’s… it’s an idea.”

Taehyung is about to comment on this strange response but notices Jungkook gazing intently at the whiskey shelf again, his ears slightly red, and decides not to.

Ever since the Samsung event nearly a month ago, Jungkook has been almost walking on eggshells around Taehyung. Taehyung wishes he wouldn’t; that night had been awkward at best and contentious at worst, and had been entirely unexpected on various fronts. However, he and Dilara had awoken the next morning in an air of mutual forgiveness and shared an intimate couple of hours before breakfast, filled with silent apologies and hope.

Regarding Jungkook, Taehyung had had every intention of giving him the cold shoulder for a while, at least, still somewhat peeved at the sudden confrontation from his very non-confrontational friend. As it turned out, the moment they’d all reached Seoul and climbed out of their separate SUVs, Jungkook had cornered Taehyung outside their building and begun apologising profusely. 

That had taken him more off guard than their argument last night; Taehyung had tried to get a word in amidst the explanations but looking at how horrible Jungkook clearly felt, he hadn’t had the heart to give him any more grief about it. Somehow, the whole situation had ended with Taehyung comforting Jungkook, telling him to forget about it, that he understood he and Dilara were friends.

Jungkook had looked like he wanted to say something more but he’d shook his head instead, and they’d hugged until Dilara stepped out of her SUV. Jungkook had skirted around both of them for the next few days until Dilara had left Seoul, after which Taehyung had gently but categorically told Jungkook to chill out.

He isn’t sure if Jungkook has got the message yet. He thinks he has for the most part; they’ve hung out many times since then, for work, with other friends - but maybe the mention of Dilara has suddenly made him clam up again.

“Sir.” The same store staff who was ringing up the Chandon appears from behind the shelf. “Mr Park has picked out a Cristal that will be delivered to his residence shortly. Anything else I can help you with?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Taehyung starts to say as he and Jungkook begin moving towards the front of the store. As the younger member continues on his way, Taehyung stops. Retracing his steps, he picks up the bottle of whiskey that Jungkook had been examining.

“Can you add this to the Chandon?” he asks, waiting for the store staff to nod before he joins his friends.

—

Seokjin [12:30] Are you working late today?

Seulgi [12:33] Not sure. Why?

Seokjin [12:33] I’m on my way back from Annyeong now so I should be in Seoul in a couple of hours. Wanted to see if you maybe want to go out tonight?

Seulgi [12:36] It’s supposed to pour today. And doesn’t look likely with my calendar anyway.

Seulgi [12:37] But I’ll try, in case something opens up.

Seokjin doesn’t reach Seoul until almost three hours later. The long solo drive was a nice way to get some time to himself, especially with the mild anxiety that had started to creep up over the last couple of days, almost as though he was forgetting something. He would’ve spent a lot less time driving but the traffic was maddening; as per the radio, it was due to people driving in and out of the city for the weekend combined with rain warnings. 

He reaches the dorm to find it empty. Ordinarily, he would’ve gone back to his own apartment but something about being back in his childhood home for a week, along with Seulgi’s distant demeanour, makes him want to be around his friends for a little bit. 

As it turns out, none of them seem to be home at the moment but he knows they’re here: there’s a bowl in the sink with ramen sauce smeared on it; a Gucci hoodie he knows is Jimin’s is draped over the back of a chair; Taehyung’s bedroom door is slightly ajar, the bedcovers unmade and clearly slept in.

Seokjin sinks onto the sofa and lies down on it, closing his eyes and preparing for a nap. He has no plans for today whatsoever, especially if Seulgi doesn’t get back to him. He isn’t entirely surprised at her mood; ever since he’d ventured into the territory of him and Nari, she’d begun distancing herself from him. 

He couldn’t blame her; he had no idea what he was walking into with Nari and the fact that Seulgi had to stand by and wait for him to figure it out would have to rankle. He wasn’t fully surprised when, a couple of days after the fact, she confessed to Seokjin that it wouldn’t be the worst thing to take some time apart.

Sleep doesn’t come to him, not really. He dozes off at least half a dozen times without actually falling asleep, his mind constantly replaying the last few weeks, with that nagging sense of stress and anxiety a constant in his mind. Seokjin lazes around until he marks the attempt futile, just as the front door opens and Jimin strides in with his phone to his ear, followed by Taehyung and Jungkook trooping in behind him.

“Hey, hyung,” they chorus, Jungkook falling onto the sofa next to Seokjin. “When did you get back?”

“Just a little while ago.” Seokjin looks around at them, rubbing his eyes. “Are you guys also staying here this weekend?”

Before any of them can answer, one of the other bedroom doors opens and Hoseok steps out, stretching and yawning. “Hey, hyung. How was the champagne tasting?” he asks Jimin, who holds up a finger as he continues talking.

“Oi, Hobi, you’re here, too?” Seokjin frowns, bewildered. “Wait, have you been here this whole time?”

Hoseok nods and points noncommittally to his bedroom as he walks over to the dining table to peer into a bag that Taehyung has placed on it. “Ooh, Chandon. Is that the one he picked finally?”

“Jimin chose the Cristal,” says Jungkook. “And he’s getting it delivered.”

“He did and it is,” confirms Taehyung, and says no more.

Hoseok raises his eyebrows. “Okay. And what about the Jameson?”

“That’s for Jungkook.”

Hoseok just about catches Jungkook’s surprised look before Seokjin speaks again. “So - wait, I thought Jimin’s lunch was tomorrow.”

“Sooah’s, and yes,” says Jimin, getting off the phone and finally looking up, seeming a bit frazzled. “Tonight is just me and her. There was some kind of confusion with the food,” he says to Taehyung, who’s giving him a questioning look.

“Oh, hey, if Sooah is going to be with you tonight, does that mean Chaeyoung will be home alone?” Hoseok asks.

“I guess,” answers Jimin vaguely as his phone rings again. “Damn it, it’s the park coordinator again.”

“The park?” Seokjin raises his eyebrows sceptically as Jimin takes the call, and turns around to look out the nearest window. “It’s already drizzling. It’s supposed to pour tonight, you know?”

Hoseok shrugs, while Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Doesn’t matter. Jimin is in charge and if he wants to give the birthday girl a night in the park, he’s going to make sure it happens.”

And suddenly, Seokjin knows what he’s been forgetting.

—

“Okay, wait.” Jimin exhales sharply and closes his eyes. “You said that you do have an option of a makeshift roof or something - but now you’re saying you don’t want to do it? I put a deposit down on the whole place,” he reminds him.

“Mr Park, I’m saying we can do it but I don’t recommend it,” says the coordinator patiently. “We use that for light drizzles or snowfall but the downpour that’s been predicted will render it useless.”

“There’s been a downpour predicted every single day of this week and nothing has happened,” he points out. “I’m okay to take that risk.”

“It’s not just the furniture, Mr Park.” The coordinator sounds mildly stern now. “It’s a lot of expensive sound equipment as well and I cannot, in good conscience, risk having it outside -“

“Okay.” Jimin interrupts him, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think. “What if we moved it to slightly earlier?”

“It’s already drizzling, sir.”

“Fine, do you have a different spot in the park?” He asks through gritted teeth. “Something more canopied, perhaps?”

The coordinator hums vaguely and there’s the clicking of a keyboard in the background. Jimin rolls his eyes at Taehyung, who’s approaching him with a questioning look, and mutes the call.

“I’m going to kill this guy,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I've been planning this for a month and he’s pulling the rug out from under me now?”

“I mean, he may have a point. If it rains then your plan is ruined - but it’ll probably stop in a bit,” Taehyung adds hastily when Jimin glowers.

“God, I hope so,” he says, although even he is starting to think that it might not. “I can handle a slight change of plan with the venue but the rest of it has to be perfect. There’s the food and the cake, and - oh, did the champagne arrive?”

“Er, not yet.” Taehyung checks his watch. “They said they would send it in an hour, right? Should’ve been here by now.”

Jimin is about to swear but just then, the park coordinator says something. He waves Taehyung away, accepting an encouraging clap on the back, and gets back on the call.

“Sir, we might have something on the other side of the park,” he suggests hesitantly. “The view is not the same, but it fits the general requirement.”

“The view - you mean it doesn’t have a view of the Han.” Jimin takes a deep breath, preparing to choose his battles. “Okay. What is this other side of the park? Where - how -  I mean, what does it look like?”

“It’s in a way that the screen and the projector and all the sound equipment will be protected, but you and your companion will still be able to enjoy the beautiful outdoors.”

Jimin frowns. “How -“ Somehow, all he’s able to picture is some kind of garage where everything is stuffed in and just two lawn chairs and dragged out onto the grass.

“It’s available for inspection now, sir. But we don’t have a lot of time as we need to confirm the booking at least two hours before the actual event in order to make preparations.”

Jimin’s eyes widen and he lunges after Taehyung, grabbing his hand and checking his watch. “It’s almost five pm! I was supposed to have the venue from seven pm anyway!”

“You are an esteemed client, Mr Park, so we can make that exception. Our staff is very efficient and can help you -“

He resists the urge to scream over the phone at someone who, at the end of the day, is just doing his job.

“I’ll be there,” he says quickly and hangs up. “Okay, I’m heading out,” he adds to nobody in particular, but Taehyung follows him into his room anyway.

“Everything okay?” he asks, stopping at the doorway.

“No. Actually, you know what? Yes,” says Jimin firmly, shedding his clothes and throwing on the outfit he was planning to wear (comfortable jeans and a Louis Vuitton jacket, plus a Gucci hoodie of his that Sooah loves to snuggle in). “It will be okay because there’s really no other option.”

“Look, I’m sure it’ll work out fine, but… I mean, I’m sure Sooah will appreciate the thought no matter how it goes,” he reasons.

“You know, I’m sure she will,” agrees Jimin hurriedly, “but I need this to be more than just a thought. Okay? Because this is - this is -” He struggles for a few moments before giving up. “This is Kim Sooah,” he says finally.

Taehyung looks like he wants to say something but instead he simply nods. “Okay, go, then. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah - can you bring the champagne down there once it gets delivered?” he asks immediately, rushing out of the room and gathering his phone and keys. “The food and cake will come there directly - hang on, I need to check out -” He fishes out his phone and makes a call, tucking the phone in between his ear and shoulder.

They reach the living room and Jimin scans it to see Hoseok, Seokjin and Jungkook in front of the television, sharing a large bowl of popcorn while a football match goes on. 

“Jungkook, I’m taking your car.” Jimin grabs a bunch of keys from the side table and, without waiting for a response, dashes out of the front door.

The park coordinator may not have been completely wrong; the rain is already at a steady speed, enough that most people have pulled out their umbrellas and the roads are starting to get jammed. He drives to the park anyway, a little unsettled at seeing it completely empty this time of day, leaves the Gucci hoodie in the backseat and runs inside towards the office.

The coordinator seems to be waiting for him. “Right this way, Mr Park,” he says immediately, barely giving Jimin time to run a hand through his damp blond hair before ushering him out under a black umbrella.

“This is the alternative?” Jimin asks a few minutes later, staring up at the thick cloth separating them from the rain.

“Yes - now I know it’s not probably what you pictured but it’s the best we can do in such short notice, Mr Park.”

“Actually, this is exactly what I pictured,” he murmurs, heart sinking. It does look like a makeshift garage in front of them, like something he would’ve planned back when they were in high school, using a bedsheet for a screen and a Bluetooth speaker for an innovative night out, with instant ramen and cokes. He’d hoped that now, all these years later, they were finally due for an upgrade - but the universe clearly had other plans.

Okay, Jimin. Stop whining. Just think. He takes a deep breath and turns around, wincing a little and trying to ignore how the rain is getting louder by the minute.

“Okay, so it’s… five-thirty,” he says. “Sooah will be here by seven which gives me just enough time to follow up on the food and drinks. What?” he asks, when the coordinator’s assistant looks confused.

“Well, it’s - it’s just -” She stutters, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Won’t the food get ruined, sir?” 

“Why will it -” Jimin stops, closing his eyes. The rain. “Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath.

“Sir, we can arrange for a table next to the screen under the roof so you and your friend can come up and take your food and go back outside -” He stops abruptly when he sees Jimin’s incredulous expression. “I mean… it could be like a buffet,” he reasons in a small voice.

“It won’t be anything like a buffet. Sir, come on -” He sighs, at his wit’s end and getting anxious. “Can’t we get - I don’t know - something stronger up there to protect us from the rain? The screen, projector, electronics - all of that is going to be under the roof. The sound is going to be compromised because of the rain anyway - can’t we just get a slightly stronger thing above our heads so the food doesn’t have to move, too?”

The coordinator starts to say something sympathetic when Jimin’s phone rings. He apologises and picks it up immediately. “Taehyung! Come to the other end of the park - no, not that side. The side by the exit parking lot.” He stays on the phone for another minute until he spots Taehyung jogging up the path with an umbrella in one hand and a plain tote bag in the other that Jimin assumes contains the champagne.

“Thank God,” he sighs, shoving his phone back in his pocket as Taehyung reaches him.

“Okay, listen -” Taehyung holds up a hand. “Don’t freak out. But I think when you gave the liquor store your address, you gave them your apartment and not the dorm. But - “ He says loudly, preempting Jimin’s heart stopping in his chest, “I got this as a backup,” he says, retrieving a bottle of Chandon from the bag.

It’s not what Jimin had chosen but the fact that something has found a solution is more than he could hope for right now. In a moment of emotion, he hugs Taehyung tightly.

“Alright,” says Taehyung gruffly, patting him on the back. “Come on now, you have things to do, Jimin. Oh, speaking of which,” he adds as Jimin steps away, “Sooah called me a little while ago. I don’t know if she was looking for hints or what, but I told her you’re working really hard at it.”

“You did?” Jimin can’t decide if this is a good thing. “Alright. Well. Got to get it done, then, I guess.”

“It’ll be great. Don’t worry.”

There’s a clap of thunder and they both jump. Taehyung opens his mouth, clearly looking for words of comfort but eventually gives up. Giving Jimin another pat on the shoulder, he hurries away in the rain, the umbrella barely helping anymore. 

—

Stepping out of a hot shower, steam still rising from the bathroom behind him, Seokjin ties a towel around his waist and enters his room. The moment he does, the first thing he sees is the view outside the window, with rain lashing down the city. He stares at it, horridly fascinated, when he remembers.

He sits on his bed, glad he’s in the warmth of the dorm, and makes a phone call.

“Hey,” he says, glad she picked up on the second ring. “How are you?”

“Fine,” says Seulgi, but she doesn’t sound curt. “You?”

“I’m okay. What about you? Are you still at Big Hit?” 

“Yeah, why?”

“Uh, have you looked outside?”

“Oh. That.” Seulgi sighs. “Yeah, it looks pretty bad. But I still have work to get done so I’m stuck here for a while no matter what. All I can do is hope the rain stops sometime tonight.”

“The forecast says it’s going to go on really late,” points out Seokjin, peering out of the window uneasily again. “I can barely see the river from my window anymore. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get home now before it gets worse. I can pick you up,” he offers.

“No. I mean - no, thank you,” she amends, her voice softening a bit. “I told you, I have a ton of work to get done. There are still two whole meetings to go - I don’t think I’ll be able to leave before ten, no matter what.”

“But it’ll get actively dangerous to commute in worse rain than this,” he argues. “The company should care about an employee’s wellbeing over a meeting.”

She scoffs. “You work for the same company, Seokjin,” she reminds him. “How many times have they prioritised your wellbeing over a work commitment?”

To this, Seokjin has no answer. “You have a point,” he admits grudgingly, and is heartened to hear her chuckle. “Okay, but can you tell me whenever your meetings do end? I’ll pick you up - and I’ll drop you to your place,” he clarifies quickly. “If that’s what you want.”

Seulgi doesn’t reply for a few seconds. “Seokjin,” she says carefully, but then sighs. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I don’t know if…”

He waits for her to continue but when she doesn’t, he speaks. “Look, I’m not trying anything,” he says, turning away from the window and feeling the same guilt he’s felt around her for weeks now. “But these are special circumstances. I mean, I don’t know if you have a window anywhere around you, but it is insane out there right now.”

“Alright,” she says, but she doesn’t sound convinced. “I’ll let you know. Chances are, the rain will stop.”

“Let me know either way.” Seokjin waits until she hangs up, not really sure what he was expecting from this exchange. Seulgi wasn’t off base at all; apart from the rain, the constant nagging guilt at putting her through this period of doubt definitely played a part.

He isn’t any closer to figuring out his stance with Nari. Seulgi feels far away, farther away than a girlfriend should. It’s a mess and all he can do now is wait.

The rain pours harder, the sky darkening and thunder deafening. Jungkook is lazing around the house, doing laundry and other chores while Taehyung is video calling a friend who’s working abroad. Hoseok is a ball of nervous energy, mentioning more than once that he hopes Chaeyoung is okay in the storm and safe at home. 

Seokjin just waits, until a couple of hours later, Seulgi finally lets him know.

Seulgi [20:00] Hey. So my second meeting hasn’t even started yet and I think the company has finally caught on to the situation outside. Apparently they got a government advisory about the storm and that it’s only going to get worse.

Seokjin [20:01] So… what? They’re not letting you leave?

Seulgi [20:02] They’re advising us not to. And honestly, I don’t think anyone should be outside in this rain. Apparently parts of the city are losing electricity, too - another team was supposed to have a work dinner in Hongdae but it got cancelled because the whole restaurant shut down.

Seokjin [20:03] How will you get home then?

Seulgi [20:03] They’ve set up rooms here - I think they’ve repurposed the resting rooms that the idols use on the top floor for the rest of us mere mortals. It’s not ideal but it’s better than trying to go out there.

Seokjin bites his lip. It sounds rather like she’s made a decision, albeit grudgingly, and in typical Seulgi fashion, has told him subtly not to bother coming over. It’s hard to argue when she hasn’t said it in so many words, and even harder to justify an argument while being able to hear the wind outside. 

“What are you guys planning to do for the rest of the night?” Seokjin asks, looking up at the others.

“Not sure,” answers Taehyung, getting up from where he was lying on the sofa and walking towards the kitchen. “Lazy night in, I think. Jungkook has a date, though,” he adds, grinning.

Hoseok whistles teasingly as Jungkook chuckles, his ears going slightly red. “I do but it’s raining so hard. I’ll probably have to cancel,” he says, giving Taehyung a sheepish smile that Seokjin doesn’t fully understand.

“Okay, so that’s two. Hobi?” Seokjin taps his watch. “What about you?”

“Oh, uh…” Hoseok shakes his head, looking a bit distracted. “Not sure. Why?”

“Just - just curious. Seulgi was just saying that there’s an advisory about the storm floating around and Hongdae has lost power or something, so in case any of you have plans…”

Hoseok’s face goes slack. “Hongdae lost power?”

“Well, one restaurant in Hongdae lost power as far as I know -”

“Chaeyoung lives near Hongdae,” mutters Hoseok, tapping furiously on his phone before putting it to his ear. “Sooah is out with Jimin so she’s probably alone…” He taps his foot impatiently for a few seconds before swearing. “She isn’t picking up.”

“Maybe it’s a signal issue,” Jungkook starts to say, but Hoseok is already off the sofa and grabbing a jacket. “Wait, where are you going?”

“To check on Chaeyoung,” he answers bluntly, rummaging for his car keys in the bowl on the mantle and dashing out of the apartment without any further explanation, the door slamming shut behind him.

Seokjin’s heart races; it’s a gale out there, but this is a sign. Chaeyoung must matter that much to Hoseok, if the decision was that quick for him. He checks his watch again to see it’s a quarter past eight. He traces the familiar route in his mind, calculating how much longer it will probably take him to get there than the average day.

Something clicks and he hurries up off the couch as well, pulling his shoes on before the other two even seem to realise that something has happened.

“Wait, where are you -”

Taehyung is cut off by the front door slamming shut for the second time. Seokjin hurries down the hall, checking his pocket for his phone and keys as he takes the elevator to the basement car parking.

If he had been amazed by the rain from inside the three storey dorm in Hannam Hill, he wasn’t ready for the real thing. The moment he pulls his car out of the parking lot and above ground, the sound of the rain hitting the roof of his car is like gunshots. For a moment, he considers reversing and doing this another day but the fact of the matter is that today is the day. 

In the distance, he sees what could be another set of headlights turning down a path and out of the main gates that he guesses is Hoseok. Making up his mind, he heads out, trying to drive as carefully as possible in the severely compromised visibility of the streets.

The roads are largely empty save for buses, some taxis and cars that seem to be desperate to get done with the night. Despite knowing the route like the back of his hand, Seokjin plugs in his phone and turns on the map in case there are road blockages, and starts driving.

He has no idea what Big Hit can possibly do when it comes to building any sort of nightly camp for its employees in the office. All these years, his attempt has remained to stay as far away from that artificially lit building as he possibly can, preferring to cling on to the vestiges of normal life outside of it.

Namjoon will know. The answer comes easily to him and even though the leader is on holiday, Seokjin decides this is enough of an emergency to disturb him during it. He calls him and waits, still driving through the rain as best as he can, the roads flowing and reflecting the street lamps, the sheets of rain falling with a vengeance. 

Namjoon doesn’t answer, possibly because it's his last few hours of vacation. Swearing uncharacteristically, Seokjin dials the next best person. The line crackles and a woman’s voice, a bit far away, sounds abruptly before another takes its place.

“Hello?”

“Yoongi,” says Seokjin gratefully, swerving down a lane and wincing as he splashes a row of bikes parked along the side of the road. “Listen - have you ever seen the resting rooms on the top floor of the company building?”

There are sounds at the other end, of similar rain and splashing water. The woman’s voice floats again, a soft “Shit” in the background before Yoongi speaks.

“What?”

“The resting rooms on the top floor,” repeats Seokjin urgently, honking at what he thinks might be another car coming the opposite way. The side mirrors are completely useless by now. “Have you seen them? What are they like?”

“Oh, that? The ones for the idols?” There’s a screeching sound on the other end and Yoongi swears this time. “They’re fine, I guess. I’ve crashed there a couple times after all-nighters.”

“Really?” Relief washes over Seokjin but before he can say anything further, the voice at the other pierces the air.

“Yoongi - that’s a tree!” 

“Fuck!” Another screeching sound, a loud one, and then silence. “Uh… hyung,” says Yoongi, sounding uncertain. “I’m going to have to call you back.”

The line goes silent but Seokjin has what he wants. He just hopes Yoongi is okay and makes a mental note to call him in a little while as he pulls onto Hangang-daero, passing building after building - museums, a school, the ramen joint where he and Seulgi had first gone to almost a year ago… he keeps going, barely able to see the flyover in front of him through the rain. His wipers work overtime as he passes the last building before the bridge, seeing the company logo flash momentarily in his rearview mirror before it disappears.

The areas off the main road are darker somehow, the roads narrower, trees thicker and the rain seeming even more stifling. But the closer Seokjin gets, the more he’s convinced that he’s made the right decision. He parks the car in his regular spot and, holding his hood over his head, sprints across the street as the raindrops pelt him until he enters the building, already fairly wet.

He doesn’t dither; running upstairs to the first floor, he knocks on the door, thankful that there’s a sliver of light underneath. Behind him, the storm rages on. As he waits, Seokjin turns to look outside the window in the corridor, seeing small gusts of wind and trees moving with the force. Twenty seconds and his socks and shoes are drenched; he slides open the window slightly and immediately backs away, the wind and droplets hitting him instantly.

The sound of the door opening is the only thing louder to him than the rain. He turns around, his heart hammering.

“Seokjin?” Nari frowns, in a college hoodie and faded jeans, thick socks on her feet. Her hair falls unbrushed down her shoulders and she’s clutching a sheaf of papers in one hand. “What are you doing here?”

He wants to smile; it’s automatic, so he does. Taking a step forward, he thanks his stars he decided to leave the dorm, rain be damned.

“Hi, Nari,” he says, watching her forehead clear just a little bit. “Happy birthday.”

—