#infiredlove

I knew this silence wasn't going to last.

And I knew—when he finally spoke, it was going to ruin me.

His car pulled up in front of my building, but neither of us moved.

The engine hummed. The air between us crackled.

Then—“Get out.”

My heart dropped to my stomach.

I should’ve listened. Should’ve taken the out he’d given me.

But I didn’t.

I turned to face him. “Yoongi—”

His knuckles whitened around the wheel. “Get. Out.”

I swallowed hard. “Can we just—”

He exhaled sharply, finally looking at me.

And it was devastating.

The heat—the quiet affection, the teasing—it was gone.

All that was left was frustration. Exhaustion. Resignation.

“Either you tell me,” he said quietly, “or you leave.”

The air thinned.

My hands curled into fists against my lap. “It’s not that simple.” I whispered.

He clenched his jaw. “It is for me, Y/N.”

I flinched, but he wasn’t done.

“I fought for you tonight.” His voice is low, sharp. “If that doesn’t make you trust me then...”

I blinked rapidly, fighting back tears. “Yoon—,” my voice cracked.

He tilted his head slightly. “You know what that tells me?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

I just shook my head, refusing to accept whatever he was about to say.

His lips pressed into a thin line, brow furrowed. “You don’t want this… not the way I do.”

My chest ached.

Because that wasn’t true.

It’d never been true.

But how could I explain that I didn’t know how to let him in? That I’d spent so long keeping things buried, keeping people at arm’s length, that the thought of giving in—of letting him see me, the real—terrified me?

Through the tears I could only get out, “That’s not…please I–”

Yoongi exhaled harshly, cutting me off. “You can’t even say it. Everything in you always pulls away from me.”

And then—he got out of the car. I barely registered the movement before my door swung open.

He stood there, waiting.

A nonverbal ultimatum.

Get out. Face this. Or don’t.

I hesitated. And that was all it took.

His expression shifted.

And for the first time in weeks, he looked at me like I was nothing more than a stranger.

The final thread between us snapped.

“Fine.” His voice was eerily calm. “You don’t want to talk? I won’t ask again.”

Panic flooded my chest.

No. No, that’s not—

But I was frozen.

And before I could find the words, before I could stop him—

He walked away.

Didn’t look back.

Didn’t wait.

Just gone.

I sat there, staring at the empty space he left behind, with the crushing weight of realization settling over me.

I’d just lost him.

—

Yoongi didn’t text me.

Didn’t call.

Didn’t come back for his car.

He wouldn’t even look at me when I saw him on campus the next day.

I should’ve known this was coming. Should’ve known the second I hesitated last night that we were finished. But there never really was a we.

Knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.

And it did hurt. Like hell.

Because I’d seen Yoongi irritated before. Seen him frustrated, exasperated, amused at my expense.

But I’d never seen him like this.

Treating me like I didn’t exist.

Like I was just another face in the crowd.

I tried not to let it affect me.

I focused on my work. I went to meetings. I acted like everything was fine.

But it wasn’t.

Because when I stepped into the studio that evening, ready to finalize the last of my edits, he was already there.

And for the first time since this internship started, he didn’t acknowledge me.

He didn’t crack a joke. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t say a single word.

Just kept working.

Like I wasn’t even there.

I swallowed hard, setting my bag down and opening my laptop.

The silence was unbearable.

More than that—it was calculated.

Yoongi knew exactly how to make me miserable.

Knew that if he argued with me, teased me, fought me—I’d push back. I’d give in.

But this?

This absence?

This was worse.

I stole a glance at him. He was staring at the screen, fingers moving effortlessly over the controls. His expression was unreadable.

I hesitated. “Yoongi…”

Nothing.

Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

I exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the chair. “You’re seriously going to ignore me?”

Silence.

My pulse spiked.

“Yoongi.”

Still nothing.

Frustration coiled in my chest.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Finally—finally—he moved.

But not toward me.

Instead, he leaned forward, pressed a key on the console, and the track played through the speakers, effectively drowning out my voice.

I froze.

Because this wasn’t just ignoring me.

This was shutting me out completely.

And I hated it.

I pushed off my chair, crossing the room until I was standing beside him.

I didn’t care that I was interrupting his work.

I didn’t care that he didn't want to hear me.

Because I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let this be how we ended.

I reached for the controls and paused the track.

The silence was deafening.

Yoongi exhales through his nose, slow and even. “What do you want?”

His voice was cold. Detached.

I flinched. “You don’t have to do this.”

He tilted his head, finally—finally—looking at me.

And I wished he hadn’t.

Because his gaze was empty.

Like he’d already written me off.

“Do what?” he said flatly.

I swallowed, shrugging. “This. Acting like I don’t exist.”

Yoongi blinked. “I’m not acting.”

A hollow ache settled in my chest.

His voice was quieter when he spoke again. “You didn’t want to tell me? Fine. You don’t owe me anything.” He leans back, crossing his arms. “So don’t expect anything from me, either.”

Air stalled in my lungs.

Because I knew what he was saying.

He was done.

He was done waiting, done pushing, done caring.

And it was my fault.

I took a step back. “Yoongi—”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head.

Then he reached forward—pressed play again.

The music started up, drowning out anything else I could have said.

That time I didn’t stop it.

I just stood there.

Watching the person who used to push me, tease me, see me—turn into someone who didn’t care at all.

And for the first time, I realized—

I might have finally gotten what I thought I wanted.

And I hated it more than anything.

Day 1

I knew Yoongi was cold.

I just didn’t know how cold he could be.

The internship office was quieter than usual—not because people weren’t talking, but because Yoongi wasn't.

He sat at the end of the conference table, scrolling through his notes with an expression so hard it might as well have been carved from stone.

When Namjoon asked about the schedule, Yoongi barely looked up.

"Figure it out yourself."

The room shifted uncomfortably.

Hoseok tried to lighten the mood, nudging him with an easy grin. “Hyung, if you keep scaring everyone, no one’s gonna wanna work with you.”

Yoongi scoffed, shutting his laptop with a click. “Good.”

The silence that followed was thick.

Hoseok’s smile faded. Namjoon exchanged a glance with Jungkook. No one knew what to say.

And me?

I sat on the opposite end of the table, pretending like the air between us wasn’t suffocating me.

Like his voice didn’t sound different.

Like his words weren’t meant for me.

Day 2

People noticed.

They didn’t say it outright, but they felt it.

The way Yoongi’s friends hesitated before speaking around me. The way Krystal watched me with careful eyes. The way Hoseok pulled Jungkook aside before he could giddily greet me like he used to.

The shift was slow, but it was there.

I knew they didn’t mean to take sides.

But they did. They had to.

And I was alone.

Day 3 – Studio 3B

I shouldn’t  have been here.

But I didn’t know where else to go.

I stood outside the studio door, heart hammering, trying to think.

Trying to find a way to fix things.

Because I hated this.

Hated the distance. Hated the silence. Hated the way he was shutting me out like I never meant anything at all.

I took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

Yoongi didn’t even flinch.

He was at the console, eyes locked on the screen editing, moving like he was on autopilot.

Like he could do this in his sleep.

Like nothing else in the world existed.

I hovered near the door, heartbeat tripping over itself.

I cleared my throat. “Yoongi.”

Nothing.

A dull ache bloomed in my chest. “I know you’re pissed—”

He exhaled sharply, standing abruptly.

“What do you want?” His voice was flat. Emotionless.

I swallowed hard. “Can we just—talk?”

He laughed. A short, humorless thing. “Now you want to talk?”

I winced. “Yoongi, come on. I—”

He shook his head, cutting me off. “No. You don’t. You want things to go back to normal.”

I recoiled. “Is that such a bad thing?”

Yoongi’s jaw clenched. “You don’t get it, do you?”

I took a step forward. “Then make me get it.” I begged.

He finally looked at me.

But it was not the look I wanted.

It was exhaustion. It was empty.

And for a second, I thought he would.

I thought he’d finally tell me what he was thinking, what he was feeling, what I’d done to push him this far away.

But instead—

He pushed his hair back, threw his hands up in exasperation. “What do you want me to say?” His voice was quiet, but the weight behind it was crushing.

I exhaled shakily. “I don’t know. Anything! That you’re not just going to shut me out like this.”

He scoffed. “Like what?”

I stepped forward, gripping the edge of the console. “Like I don’t exist.”

He sighed, rubbing his temple. “I’m busy, Y/N. I don’t have time for this. Go home.”

I shook my head, on the verge of breaking again. “Not until you talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say to you!” His voice didn’t rise, but the fury behind it was deafening.

It was flat. Final—told me everything I needed to know.

He stepped back.

Like he wasn’t even willing to put up with this fight anymore.

My chest splintered around a truth I didn’t want to face.

“Go home, Y/N.” His voice was quieter now. Exhausted.

I inhaled a shuddering breath. “Yoongi—”

But he just turned away. Back to his work. Back to his silence.

Back to anything but me.

And I realized—This wasn’t just distance.

This was erasure.

And I didn’t know how to come back from that.

Day 5

The silence followed me everywhere.

I heard it in the spaces Yoongi used to fill—the sarcastic remarks, the teasing, the quiet hum of approval when we had worked side by side.

I saw it in the way our friends hesitated before talking to me, like they don’t know whose side to take.

And I felt it. God, I felt it in my chest like something was caving in.

But the worst part?

It wasn’t just his silence.

It was mine, too.

Because I was tired.

Tired of trying. Tired of reaching out just to be met with a wall. Tired of pretending that my stomach didn’t sink every time I stepped into a room and saw him sitting there, perfectly fine without me.

So, after that night in the studio, I stopped trying.

I stopped waiting for him to acknowledge me.

I stopped hoping he’d look at me and see me again.

I didn’t have the energy for it anymore.

And I couldn’t blame anyone but myself.

Day 8

Amber nudged me in class, her brows furrowing. “You good?”

I blinked at her, startled. “Yeah. Why?”

She gestures vaguely. “You haven’t said anything in, like, a week. That’s not normal.”

Krystal chimed in from the other side. “You also didn’t react when the professor mispronounced Jungkook’s name five times in a row. You usually love roasting people for that.”

I forced a small smile. “Guess I’m just tired.”

Amber and Krystal exchanged a look.

Luna tilted her head. “Is this about Yoongi?”

I stiffened.

I should’ve lied. Should’ve brushed it off and said I didn’t care.

But I couldn’t force the words out.

That alone was enough of an answer.

Amber sighed. “Dude.”

Krystal frowned, reaching for my arm. “What happened?”

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

Amber scoffed. “Yeah, okay, and I’m the next CEO of BigHit.”

Luna leaned forward, voice softer. “Did you guys fight?”

I breathed slowly, carefully. “Something like that.”

They waited for me to elaborate.

I didn’t.

Because I didn’t know how to explain it.

How could I put into words that I had something—someone—and now he was just gone?

How could I tell them I had ruined it all over the course of one night?

So I didn’t say anything at all.

And eventually, they stopped asking.

Day 11

Namjoon and Hoseok walked past me in the hallway.

They didn’t stop.

They didn’t even look at me.

I don’t know why I expected them to.

Yoongi was their friend. Their loyalty was to him.

But it still stung.

I press my lips together and keep walking.

Day 14

We were all in the same room again.

It was the final round of internship meetings before our project presentations next week, and everyone was on edge.

But no one was worse than him.

Yoongi sat across the table, arms crossed, expression dark.

Every time someone spoke to him, his responses were clipped, impatient.

Even Hoseok barely avoided a crippling insult. Namjoon tensed when Yoongi dismissed another scheduling question.

The entire room felt like they were holding their breath.

And I knew exactly why.

Because Yoongi wasn’t just cold anymore.

He was angry.

And the whole department was on the receiving end of his wrath.

The tension got so bad that Professor Kang had to step in, cutting the meeting short before someone said something they couldn’t take back.

I lingered near the exit, watching Yoongi pack up his things, shoulders tight with frustration.

I should say something.

I should’ve walked over, told him to stop taking this out on everyone else.

But then he looked up.

Our eyes meet.

And for a split second, I thought I saw something crackle in his expression—something raw, something aching.

But then—he looked away.

And I knew.

I knew he wasn’t coming back from this.

Not unless I made him.

But I didn’t know if I could.

Not when I barely had the strength to hold myself together.

So I did nothing.

I watched him walk away.

Again.

Day 17

I didn’t recognize myself anymore.

I woke up exhausted. Went through the motions—never present, never feeling. I showed up where I needed to be, spoke only when necessary, and kept my head down.

I didn’t have the energy for anything else.

Not when the weight of everything was pressing down on me.

Not when I could still feel Yoongi’s absence like a phantom limb.

My friends noticed, but they stopped asking.

They tried to comfort me. Eventually they gave me space too.

Yoongi’s friends avoided me altogether.

And Yoongi?

He existed somewhere beyond my reach—close enough to see, but never close enough to touch.

Day 19

I was in the studio alone, staring blankly at my laptop screen.

I hadn’t made any real progress in hours.

I should’ve cared.

But I didn’t.

Not when the silence felt heavier than any unfinished project.

The door creaked open.

I didn’t look up.

Not until a voice—low, familiar, and entirely unwanted—filled the room.

“Didn’t expect to find you here alone.”

My stomach twisted, and for the first time in days, something sharp and hot pierced through the numbness.

I inhaled slowly, forcing my expression into something neutral before turning to face him.

“What do you want?”

Jae stepped inside, letting the door close behind him. He looked me over, head tilting slightly.

“You look like hell.”

I rolled my eyes. “And yet, I’d rather be there than here with you.”

His lips twitched. “Harsh.”

I didn’t respond.

I didn’t have the patience for whatever game he was trying to play.

Jae clicked his tongue, stepping closer. “So.” His eyes flashed with something knowing. Something dangerous. “How long are you going to keep pretending you don’t miss him?”

My lungs locked up, but I didn't let him see it.

I kept my voice steady. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He laughed. “Sure you don’t.”

I glared at him. “Why do you care?”

Jae shrugged. “I don’t.”

Then why did he look so fucking smug?

I exhaled sharply. “If you’re done wasting my time—”

“You know,” Jae interrupted, voice quieter, “I’ve seen this before.”

My spine straightened without thinking.

He leaned against the table, watching me carefully. “You shut people out. You let them chase you just long enough to think they have a chance—then you pull away.”

My heartbeat slammed against my ribs.

I forced a scoff. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jae hummed. “Maybe not.”

Then, he tilted his head, smirk fading.

“But I do know one thing.”

I crossed my arms. “And what’s that?”

Jae stepped closer, voice dropping lower.

“You can keep pretending all you want,” he murmurs. “But at the end of the day—you’re the one who always ruins it all.”

My stomach dropped.

Because for the first time since I had escaped Jae, I couldn’t tell if I was more angry at him.

Or at myself for believing him.

Day 22

Jae’s words lingered long after he was gone.

I told myself that those words didn’t matter. That he didn’t matter.

But the truth was—they did.

They sank into my bones, curled around my ribs, and stayed there, festering like an open wound I couldn’t reach.

Because he was right.

I had ruined everything.

I let Yoongi walk away.

And I didn’t know how to get him back.

Day 27

I didn’t go to the studio.

I didn’t go to class, either.

Hadn’t for a few days now.

I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself that none of this was as bad as it felt.

That I’d wake up tomorrow and this weight in my chest would be gone.

But it hadn’t yesterday. 

And it wouldn't tomorrow.

But the lie kept me breathing.

Day 30

Krystal forced me out of my apartment.

We sat in a café, and she watched me pick at my muffin like I was some kind of fragile animal that might bolt at any second.

She’d insisted on personally ensuring I ate every bite, considering I’d dropped about 15 lbs since…then.

Finally, she sighed.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said, voice careful. “But if you don’t snap out of this soon, I’m going to start making terrible decisions for you.”

I blinked at her. “Like what?”

Krystal shrugged. “Like signing you up for a public poetry reading about heartbreak.”

I groaned, dropping my head onto the table. “Please don’t.”

“Then start acting like a functional human being.”

I exhaled slowly. “I’m trying.”

She softened slightly. “Try harder.”

I wanted to.

But I didn’t know how.

Day 33

I saw Yoongi.

It was in the hallway between classes, brief and unexpected.

For a split second, his gaze flickered to mine.

Hope fluttered in the pit of my stomach. And then—

He walked right past me.

Like I still meant nothing.

Something in my chest cracked.

But I didn't let it show.

Not here.

Not where people can see.

Instead, I did the only thing I could.

I turned and walked the other way.

Because if he was done pretending I existed—

Then maybe I should be, too.

----------------------------------------

I’d heard of Min Yoongi before. His reputation wasn’t loud, but it was undeniable. A producer with an uncanny ear for sound design, a songwriter with a natural knack for melody. Professors spoke highly of him. But students? They mostly complained about his attitude.  

“Yoongi’s kind of a dick,” my friend Amber had told me once, sipping her iced latte. “Like, he’s insanely talented, but he never sugarcoats anything. You show him a song, and he’ll tell you exactly what’s wrong with it. No hesitation.”  

“That’s not so bad,” I had said.  

“Yeah, except he says it in the most soul-crushing way possible.”  

Now, sitting across from him in the conference room, I watched as he slumped in his chair, barely listening to Ms. Lee. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and he tapped his fingers soundlessly on the table, like he was composing a beat in his head.  

He didn’t look like a threat.  

But when the meeting ended, and Ms. Lee announced the ranking system—the system that would determine who got those coveted full-time positions—I felt his presence sharpen.  

Interns would be ranked based on performance, creativity, and overall contributions to projects. The leaderboard would be updated weekly. And at the top, right now, sat two names.  

Min Yoongi.  

And mine.  

Our eyes met for the first time then.  

For a second, I thought he might say something. Instead, he blinked once, then looked away like I wasn’t even worth the effort.  

I bristled. Oh, it was on.  

---  

A week into the internship, and I had learned two things about Yoongi.  

One: He was incredibly good at what he did.  

Two: He was infuriatingly silent about it.  

We were assigned to different teams, but we crossed paths constantly—meetings, brainstorming sessions, late nights in the studio. He rarely spoke unless it was necessary, and when he did, it was in short, clipped sentences. Somehow, though, everything he said carried weight.  

“I’d cut that second verse,” he told one of the other interns during a songwriting session. “It drags.”  

The guy frowned. “But—”  

“It’s killing the momentum.” Yoongi didn’t look up from his laptop. “Just cut it.”  

I had to admit, he wasn’t wrong. But did he have to say it like that?  

I watched as the other intern hesitated before sighing and nodding. I bit back a smirk. Not everyone was willing to take criticism from someone so blunt.  

But me? I thrived on competition.  

So when my team was assigned to produce a track for a promotional campaign, I put everything I had into it. I stayed late, tweaked every element until it was flawless. And when we presented it, I could feel the room reacting to it—nodding along, impressed.  

Then Yoongi’s team played their track.  

And I hated how good it was.  

It was different from mine—less polished, more raw. But it had this undeniable pull, this effortless coolness that I couldn’t ignore.  

When the meeting ended, I found myself standing next to him at the coffee machine.  

“Your track was good,” I said, because I could at least admit that.  

He didn’t look up. “I know.”  

I stared at him. “You could say ‘thank you.’”  

“You could say mine was better.”  

I scoffed. “Not a chance.”  

For the first time, a hint of a smirk ghosted across his lips. “Guess we’ll see.”  

And just like that, the battle line was drawn.

---------------------------------------

Drabbles

Long Days [f] - Choi Minho, WC 414

After a tiring day of training, you return home seeking comfort and hydration. A lighthearted conversation about wine leads to playful banter.

What A Talent [f] - Park Jimin, WC 622

Jimin has prepared a special performance for you in the senior semester talent show.

The Cold [a] - Yoongi, WC 119

In which you are breaking up with Min Yoongi. Or rather, he is breaking up with you.

What She Wants [a] - WC 126

Insecurities of the girl in the back.

Time With You [f] - Park Chanyeol, WC 700

Working in the summer camp kitchen was hectic but rewarding, with chaotic meal preparations and late-night cleanups.

Just In Time [s] - Jeon Jugkook, WC 669

When Jungkook had approached you with the idea of recording you during sex, you were very hesitant. It wasn’t everyday that he was so straightforward with his desires. However, all it took was a little work of the mouth at midnight to make you change your mind.

3 out of 5 [c,f] - Kim Taehyung, WC 237

In which you lose a game of rock, paper, scissors.

Operator [c] - Choi Seunghyun, WC 883

“Excuse me when I say this,” he says, as if your outburst never happened. “But your voice… sounds like my sex operator’s.”

Too Many Drinks [f] - Bang Yongguk, WC 313

Why is it that you could never have an enjoyable night out on the town without some random approaching you with sleazy pick-up lines?

Bad Girls Need To Be Punished [s] - Park Jimin, WC 510

Your peaceful morning quickly turns into an intoxicating dance of dominance and desire as Jimin’s touch ignites every inch of you. With a whispered challenge and an unrelenting grip, he pushes you to the edge, knowing exactly how to make you surrender—one slow, torturous moment at a time.

Sugar Baby AU [f] - Kim Namjoon + Joen Jungkook, WC 284

So I had this dream about BTSxSugar Baby Reader!AU and I had to write this because it was one of the dream drabbles that was so vivid i could almost feel it irl. 

Frustration [s] - Min Yoongi, WC 693

After a long, frustrating day, you return home to find your boyfriend peacefully napping on the couch, a stark contrast to your overwhelming stress. Deciding to wake him in a way that benefits you both, you turn frustration into intimacy, ensuring his awakening is anything but ordinary.

One-shots

Stay By Me [a] - Lee Jinki, WC 1,477

Your once-perfect relationship with Jinki has become unpredictable and strained. As tensions rise, you struggle to hold on to the love once shared.

Birthday Surprise [f] - Lee Tamin, WC 722

What started as an ordinary day quickly turned into an unforgettable celebration, complete with a heartfelt confession that would change everything.

Our Beginnings - WC 1,013

On the 9th day in Shawol Nation, all must visit the Historical Legend Wall to honor their past. When a curious young girl asks the gatekeeper why, she—and an unexpected audience—are drawn into the tale of Lord Shisus, Bi, and Boa, uncovering the origins of their people and the sacred rules that shape their world.

The Monster In My Head [f] - Jeon Jungkook, WC 3,499

You are haunted by a recurring dream that blurs the line between reality and nightmare, drawing you into the grasp of an enigmatic stranger with abyssal eyes and an unrelenting presence.

Everything Changed [s,a] 1 | 2

A seemingly innocent day with your best friend’s crush turns into a web of tangled emotions and blurred boundaries.

She Knows [s] - Zhang Yixing, WC 1,297

Zhang Yixing, a hardworking man deeply in love with his fiancé, returns home after a long day to find you indulging in a private moment of pleasure.

I Cant Believe It [c,s] - Jeon Jungkook, WC 3,908

It isn’t everyday that you meet someone so young, so childish, yet so… daddy. And for people like Alexa these kind of people are basically nonexistent. Or so she thought until Jeon Jungkook walked into her life. 

Why I Can't Sleep [f] - Jung Hoseok, WC 2,053

Struggling with overwhelming anxiety, you find yourself at Hoseok's door in the middle of the night, seeking comfort.

The Second Time | Alt Ending - [a,s] Jung Hoseok

Hoseok’s favorite thing to see in the world is the smile on his girl’s face. A smile reserved for only him, and he would do anything to keep it there.

Stroke Of Luck [f] - Mark Tuan, WC 1,411

Working as the head stylist for Got7 could be tiring, but you always loved working with them. Especially for the mere fact that you could get close to Mark, if only for five minutes.

Take Care [a] - Giriboy, WC 4,553

“What has been your greatest motivation for success?” “I’d have to say, my greatest motivation has been my little rose. I actually have a song I’d like to sing for her.”

Long Term Pieces

Here & Now: History [a,d] Indefinite Hiatus

Chapters: One, Two Summary: Yoongi and Namjoon mysteriously disappear from their college campus one night, only to return two years later. Though they are unmistakably the same, something about them has changed—unnaturally so.

Internship Begets Rivalry [c,a] - Min Yoongi

Anything but the thick veins visible where his sleeves were pushed up over his forearms.

Anything but the way his languid drawl revealed a slight lisp—something that might’ve passed for drunken slurring to a stranger.

I should not have agreed to this.

Not when the alcohol was blurring the lines I’d been trying so hard to keep clean.

Not when Yoongi was relaxed like this—his usual sharp edges softened, his smirk slower, his voice lower.

Not when every slow drag of his fingers through his messy hair made me shift in my seat.

And especially not when his hand kept drifting too close to my thigh, teasing the fabric of my skirt with just enough pressure to make my breath hitch.

I swallowed hard, downing the rest of my drink. “I need to go get water.”

Yoongi hummed, watching me slide off my stool. His gaze lingered on my legs as I stepped away, and I hated that I noticed.

The bar was packed, the air thick with neon lights and laughter. I pushed through the crowd, exhaling slowly.

I need to get a grip.

I reached the counter and ordered a glass of water, pressing my palms against the cool surface to ground myself. But before I could fully recover, someone stepped up beside me.

“You always did have a habit of looking for trouble.”

I tensed immediately.

I turned my head slightly—just enough to meet Jae’s gaze.

His smirk was familiar, but his eyes were sharper than before. Like he was waiting for something. Like he already knew what was about to happen.

I kept my voice neutral. “And you always did have a habit of starting it.”

Jae chuckled, tilting his head. “I can’t take all the credit. You walked into this one on your own.”

I exhaled through my nose. “What do you want?”

He clicked his tongue. “A better question is—what do you want?”

My fingers tightened around my glass. “Jae—”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to send a chill down my spine.

“Tell me something.” His smirk deepened. “When it’s all over, will you even recognize yourself? I mean, you’ve already changed so much since then.”

I froze.

My breath caught in my throat, my pulse a sharp, erratic thing in my chest.

Jae watched my reaction carefully, eyes gleaming—dark with power, with a knowing sense of control.

I opened my mouth—to demand answers, to tell him to get to the point already—but no words would escape. I hated that Jae could still do this to me. After all this time—all the work I’d put in.

It felt like I was going to drown beneath the whirlpool pressure of his stare. 

And then Yoongi was there. 

Sturdy. Warm. Suffocatingly close.

And somehow, I could breathe again. 

His arrival was effortless, like he belonged in this moment. Like he was always meant to step in and cut the tension before it swallowed me whole.

His voice was deceptively calm. “You again? What are you, a stalker?”

Jae barely reacted. He just smirked, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Didn’t realize you were on babysitting duty.”

Yoongi didn’t move. But his hand landed on my waist, fingers pressing just slightly into my hip—shifting me ever so slightly behind him, like he was a shield.

The contact sent a sharp jolt through me.

And Jae noticed.

His smirk deepened. “Let me guess. You’re the guard dog and Y/N is the owner?”

Yoongi’s grip tightened—barely, but I felt it.

The tension between them shifted immediately. No longer posturing—no longer teasing.

Yoongi’s voice was low. Steady. “You talk like someone looking for an ass whooping.”

Jae’s grin widened, razor-sharp. He looked at me then, slow and deliberate. “Still letting him speak for you, sweetheart?”

I stepped closer, pressing one hand firmly against Yoongi’s chest. A silent request. Grounding him, enough to pull his attention to me before this turned into something worse.

His jaw flexed, eyes warring between rage and restraint. He didn’t move.

“Let’s go,” I murmur, tugging him back gently by the fabric of his shirt with the other hand.

His fingers flexed against my waist, like he was debating something. Then—after a heartbeat—he exhaled through his nose and let me guide him away, his hand still warm on my lower back.

I didn’t look back at Jae as we pushed through the crowd, but I felt his stare burning into my back.

And I knew—this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Yoongi’s hand on my waist was firm but not rough, guiding me toward the exit like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go.

I didn’t argue.

I needed to get out of there.

The neon lights blurred past as we stepped into the alley behind the bar, the sharp night air hitting my skin. I exhaled shakily, trying to clear my head.

Yoongi stepped in front of me, eyes dark. “You okay?”

I nodded. Too quickly.

Yoongi scoffed. “Don’t lie.”

I pressed a hand against my forehead. “I just—”

Don’t know how to explain it.

How Jae always had a way of getting under my skin. Making me question things I thought I had buried. How his words weren’t just random taunts—they were pointed, meant to pull something out of me. How I knew, deep down, this wasn’t over.

Yoongi exhaled sharply. “What the hell is his problem?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

Yoongi’s jaw tightened. “Bullshit.”

I looked up at him, startled. “What?”

“You do know,” he said, voice low but firm. “You just won’t say it.”

My stomach twisted.

Because he was right.

I didn’t say anything.

Yoongi scoffed again, running a hand through his hair. “Right. You don’t owe me an explanation. I forgot.”

I inhaled sharply. “Yoongi—”

“I know.” His voice was quieter now, but there’s an edge to it. “You don’t trust me yet.”

That stung more than it should. “No, that’s not—”

Before I could finish, the muffled noises from the bar heightened for a few seconds before quietening again—signaling the door had opened. A shadow moved in the dim alleyway behind Yoongi. And then—

“Leaving so soon?”

Jae.

Dear God, not again.

My pulse spiked.

Yoongi tensed immediately, his head snapping toward the voice.

Jae stepped out of the darkness, slow and deliberate. He looked completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just spent the last five minutes picking apart my nerves inside the bar.

Like he didn’t just follow us outside to keep stoking the fire.

Yoongi’s stance shifted subtly, his body angling in front of mine.

“Walk away,” he said, voice calm but lethal.

Jae clicked his tongue. “Now, why would I do that?”

Yoongi didn’t move. “Okay, I’ll put it this way. Fuck off or get fucked.”

Jae let out a low laugh, tilting his head. “That’s cute. You think you can tell me what to do now?”

His eyes slid toward me—uncannily dark. Like black holes, pulling me back into a past riddled with trauma and dread.

My body went rigid. 

“You keep running from me, Y/N. But you can’t run forever.”

My chest tightened, a desperate, strangled gasp ripping through me.

No.

Jae stepped closer, disregarding Yoongi as if he wasn’t even there. “No matter where you go or how many bitch boys you hide behind,” he spat, “You’re mine. I own every part of you. You got that?”

No!

This can’t be happening!

Not now!

Not again!

And just like that, the fight ignited.

In an instant, Yoongi was a blur of movement.

His fist collided with Jae’s jaw, the sickening crack of impact split the silence. Jae stumbled back, clutching his face. But instead of retaliating immediately, he grinned—blood painting his teeth.

“Ah,” he exhaled, licking the gash in his lip absentmindedly. “There he is.”

I barely had time to react.

A dull thud echoed as Yoongi slammed Jae against the wall. Jae gritted his teeth, grabbed Yoongi’s shirt, and twisted him back, sending them both crashing into the brick with a force that shook my ribs.

Yoongi landed another hit to Jae’s side, but Jae recovered quickly, shoving back hard.

Jae’s expression shifted—less cocky now. More focused. Like this wasn’t just a fight—it was something he had been waiting for.

I stumbled forward. “Stop it!”

They didn’t listen.

Yoongi didn’t hesitate. His next few punches connected every time—landing hard and clean. One to the cheek. One to the jaw. Another to the nose. A couple to the side.

Jae got quite a few hits in too. But then he stumbled, gripping his ribs.

“Shit—” 

He dropped to the ground.

I tried to grab Yoongi’s arm before he could move again. “Stop!”

He didn’t even look at me—just shook me off, gentle but final. Like the last thread of restraint had snapped. Fist after fist, Yoongi continued pummeling Jae with a fury that seemed to have no end. 

I stood frozen. I needed to stop this. 

But a sick part of me didn't want to stop it.

That twisted part of me felt something close to satisfaction, even joy, watching the bloody mess beneath Yoongi’s fists.

But I had to stop this.

I needed to stop this.

For Yoongi’s sake if nothing else.

I threw myself against his back, arms locking tightly around his waist. “Yoongi, please! You have to stop!”

It took a few seconds, but it worked. With one last shove, he finally pulled away. When the haze cleared from his eyes, he turned to me, gaze scanning my face, my body, checking for blood, for bruises, for anything. 

“Are you hurt?”

“You fucking idiot—do you see yourself?” I cradled his face gently, inspecting the cuts and swelling. “You shouldn’t be worried about me!”

Through the pain, he smirked.

Behind us, Jae straightened, laughing low as he shook his head. “Guess I hit a nerve.”

Yoongi growled, low and steady. “You don’t know when to shut up.”

Jae wipes the blood from his face with his thumb, looking down at it like it’s an inconvenience. “And you don’t know when to walk away.”

I gripped Yoongi tighter. “He’s trying to start something.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi muttered, jaw clenched. “Well, he succeeded.”

Jae’s grin widened. “Don’t blame me. She’s the one who keeps attracting trouble.”

My stomach twisted. “Jae—”

His eyes snapped to mine. Sharp. Cruel.

Yoongi exhaled sharply, stepping back just slightly. “We done?”

Jae let out a jagged breath, wincing as he straightened. “You really don’t know, do you?”

Frustrated, Yoongi sighed. “Know what?”

Jae shook his head slowly, gaze dragging toward me.

And then he smiled.

Not smug. Not triumphant.

Something else.

Something worse.

He leaned in slightly, voice quiet.

“Ask her.”

My stomach dropped.

Yoongi’s eyes snapped to me.

Jae smirked, wiped the blood from his lip one last time, and stepped back.

“See you around.” And just like that—he was gone.

The silence that followed was deafening. I could feel Yoongi’s stare burning into me.

But I couldn’t look at him.

Because I knew what was coming.

I knew he was going to ask.

----------------------------------------

Because every time I swore I’d keep my distance, he’d flash that infuriating half-smirk, and I’d find myself right back where I started—leaning into him, letting his warmth seep into my skin, letting him pull me into the kind of quiet comfort I hadn’t realized I needed. It was a cycle, an unspoken game. He’d push, and I’d pull away, and somehow we’d end up tangled in the middle, stuck between what we wanted and what we couldn’t admit. So, yeah. I was going to avoid him.

My mission was successful for all of five minutes.

It started in the library, a place that had been my safe space once. A place where I could actually focus, where I could go without him finding a way to distract me.

But I got too comfortable, forgetting that there was no such thing as a safe space when it came to Min Yoongi. Because as soon as I settled in my usual seat near the back corner—far from the loud study groups and whispered gossip—There he was.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just set his coffee down and slid into the chair across from me like it was his seat.

I glared at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Yoongi just flipped open a notebook, completely ignoring my tone. “Studying.”

“You know what I mean. Why are you here?”

He finally looked up, his gaze sharp with amusement. “You’re the one avoiding me again.”

I scowled. “I’m not—”

“Two days,” he cut in. “You haven’t said a word to me outside of class in two days.”

My stomach twisted. Had it really been that long?

I covered it with a shrug. “Maybe I just don’t have anything to say.”

Yoongi hummed, tapping his pen against the page. “I guess I’ll have to change that, then.”

I didn’t like the way he said that. I especially didn’t like the way he kicked his foot against mine under the table like it was an accident. It wasn’t. But I bit my tongue, focusing on my notes instead. Childish as he was, Yoongi wasn’t done.

The next time I reached for my coffee, he grabbed it first.

I blinked. “Excuse you?”

He took a slow sip—my sip—before setting it back down. “Tastes good.”

I could only stare. “You just—”

“Thought it was mine. Whoops,” he said casually, flipping a page in his notebook.

I narrowed my eyes. “Asshole.”

He just chuckled, continuing to breeze through the pages. 

—

The next time he cornered me was worse. After a small group meeting, just as I finished returning project materials to the old maintenance closet at the back of the now-empty classroom, he suddenly appeared, blocking my exit. I didn’t want to think too hard about how he knew I’d be here—especially for a meeting in a class we didn’t share.

He moved toward me with slow, deliberate steps. I retreated deeper into the closet, the narrow space closing in around us. He was too close—and he smelled too good.

I swallowed, forcing my mind back on track. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

His lips twitched. “Doing what?”

I narrowed my eyes. “You know what.”

He took a step closer, tilting his head. “If you don’t like it, why aren’t you stopping me?”

I didn’t have an answer because I should have stopped him. I should have shoved past him without a second thought and run away to safety.

But I didn’t.

I let him stand there, let him tilt his head just slightly, let him lower his voice when he spoke again.

“I told you already,” he murmured. “You can’t just avoid me.”

I exhaled sharply. “I’m a grown woman. I can do what I want.”

His gaze flicked to my lips. “Then do it.”

The challenge hung between us. I knew what he wanted. But I stood my ground, squaring my shoulders and meeting that smoldering gaze head-on.

Yoongi just smiled. For a moment, we stood like that—as if we were the only two people left on earth. Communicating with our eyes, challenging each other.

Devastatingly, I was overthrown—distracted by the sight of his tongue swiping tantalizingly across his plush lower lip.

And just like that, he knew he’d won. I could only surrender in defeat.

I let Yoongi close the space between us—one hand coming up, bracing against the wall beside my head. I let my eyelids flutter closed and waited. 

And waited.

A few seconds more.

Slowly I opened my eyes and he was just staring at me, that stupid cocky smirk on his face. And it infuriated me.

So I lifted my chin, pressing my back against the wall like it would somehow put more space between us. “If you’re going to kiss me, just do it already.”

Yoongi exhaled a quiet laugh. “You always ruin it.”

My stomach twisted at the implication. “Ruin what?”

But he just smirked. And then, suddenly, his lips were on mine. It wasn’t soft or hesitant. He wasn’t testing the waters or waiting for permission.

It was all-encompassing, impassioned—a quiet, smoldering claim that made my breath hitch, my hands curl into fists full of his dark hoodie, and my mind short-circuit. He was only kissing my lips, yet his warmth seeped into every part of me, washing over me like never before.

If my brain had been functioning properly, I might have realized it—I was really in trouble.

Because I kissed him back with just as much passion and need. Without thinking. Without hesitating. Without considering what it meant. I kissed him back, my hands threading into his hair before I could stop myself, my body leaning into him instead of away.

And Yoongi—he didn’t tease this time. He didn’t smirk or gloat or pull away just to taunt me.

He just kissed me. Deep and steady, his fingers tracing along my jaw like he needed this as much as I did.

Like he wasn’t just playing a game anymore. Like this had never been a game to begin with.

And that—that scared me more than anything.

Because it meant I was losing in more ways than one.

I should have pulled away sooner.

I should have stopped this before it became something I couldn’t ignore.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

I found myself getting lost in the warmth of his hands, the way his lips moved perfectly against mine, the quiet but unmistakable sound of his breath hitching when I gripped his hair just a little rougher.

It was too easy to forget. Too easy to pretend this wasn’t dangerous.

But then, as if some unseen force decided to remind me, a sharp knock echoed against the door.

I jerked back, breaking the kiss like I’d been caught doing something illegal.

Yoongi barely moved, his hands still cradling my face, thumb brushing my jaw as if he couldn’t let go. His eyes were unreadable, swirling with emotion, locked onto mine as if he were waiting to see what I’d do next.

Another knock, more insistent this time.

“Hey! What the hell? Is someone in there?”

My stomach dropped.

That was Amber’s voice.

Panic spiked through me, and I shoved at Yoongi’s chest, breaking the last of the lingering contact. He let me go without resistance, but the way he looked at me—half-lidded eyes, lips slightly swollen—made my already scrambled thoughts completely fly away.

“I hate you,” I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. I pressed the back of my hand against my mouth, like I could erase what just happened.

Yoongi’s smirk was slow, curling up at the edges. “No, you don’t.”

Before I could argue, Amber pounded on the door. “If you don’t open this door in the next five seconds, I’m getting security!”

I shot Yoongi a look.

He lifted a brow, completely unfazed.

“You should probably open that,” he said, voice maddeningly casual.

I hated how calm he was.

I hated that I was the only one spiraling.

And, most of all, I hated that he was right.

“Stay here and don’t come out until we leave!” I harshly whispered. Then I inhaled sharply, forcing my expression into something neutral before unlocking the door and stepping out.

Amber was immediately suspicious.

Her eyes narrowed the second she saw me, darting between my flushed face and the barely open door behind me. “What were you doing in there?”

Dying inside, I almost said.

“Nothing,” I muttered instead, brushing past her, but she followed, glancing back at the door like she knew something was off.

And then she gasped so loudly that I froze. I turned slowly, following her horrified gaze back to—

Oh.

Oh, no.

Yoongi was still standing in the doorway.

Looking entirely too comfortable with his clothes still wrinkled and his lips still too pink and swollen. I swore under my breath.

Amber’s jaw dropped. “No. Way.”

I was going to die.

Right here.

Right now.

But before I could deny everything, Yoongi tilted his head, looked me right in the eye, and smirked. And then he winked.

I wanted to disappear into the floor. Or scream. Or maybe both.

I moved fast.

Before she could even breathe another word, I grabbed her by the arm and dragged her down the hall, my heart pounding so hard it was making me dizzy.

“I—what—OW—okay, okay, I can walk on my own—what the hell, Y/N?!” Amber yelped, stumbling after me.

I didn’t stop until we were far from Yoongi’s line of sight, and even then, I whipped around so fast it made her flinch.

“You saw nothing.”

Amber blinked. Then, slowly, grinned. “Oh, I saw everything.”

I groaned so loudly I might have summoned the wrath of every ghost haunting this university.

Amber wiggled her eyebrows. “So, are you finally admitting that you’re in—”

“Nope! No! Absolutely not! Don’t even say it!”

Amber pouted. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

I shot her a look. “Because I know what you were gonna say, and you’re wrong. So wrong.”

Amber snorted. “Sure. You definitely weren’t getting hot and heavy with Yoongi in the closet back there.”

“Amber!”

She hummed. “I bet he’s a good kisser.”

I sputtered. “That is so not the point—”

“Oh my god.” Amber gasped again, eyes going wide. “He is, isn’t he?!”

I clamped a hand over her mouth. Amber muffled something against my palm, shaking with laughter.

I glared. “Swear to me you won’t say anything.”

She tilted her head, giving me an annoyingly innocent look.

“I swear I won’t say anything,” she said, voice muffled.

I squinted. “That sounds like a loophole.”

She batted her lashes.

I groaned. “I swear, Amber, if you so much as hint—”

She peeled my hand off her mouth. “Fine, fine, I won’t tell Krystal and Luna—”

I stiffened.

“—directly.”

“Amber.” I whined.

She grinned. “What? I have to be sneaky about it. It’s no fun if they don’t find out on their own.”

I buried my face in my hands. I was so doomed. And, to make things worse a voice, low and entirely too amused, spoke from behind me.

“You’re awfully loud for someone trying to keep a secret.”

I froze. Amber lit up. I knew before I even turned around. Yoongi was standing there, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching me like a cat with a very stupid mouse. I refused to look directly at him. Amber, on the other hand, looked like she just won the lottery.

“Oh, this is getting fun,” she muttered under her breath.

Yoongi tilted his head at me. “So? Are we keeping this a secret again this time?”

I exhaled sharply, finally looking at him, and hissed under my breath, “Yes, we’re keeping this a secret, you idiot.”

His smirk was slow.

“Then you’d better be more careful next time,” he murmured, voice just loud enough for only me to hear. Amber gasped again.

And Yoongi? He just walked away Like he hadn’t just said the single most dangerous thing possible.I was so doomed.

----------------------------------------

"Nowhere."

Krystal scoffed. "Liar. You were acting weird all day, and then, poof—mysteriously gone."

"And we know you weren’t home because we checked," Luna added smugly.

I blinked. "You what?"

Amber shrugged. "We called, you didn’t answer, so we took matters into our own hands."

"By breaking and entering?"

"By opening your unlocked door," Krystal corrected. "Seriously, you should be more careful."

I dropped my head onto the table. "Dear Lord. Please send help."

Amber ignored that. "So... you gonna tell us who he is?"

"There is no ‘he.’"

Luna hummed, clearly not convinced. "You’ve been smiling at your phone a lot. And disappearing. And the other day, you sighed in the middle of class like a woman whose lover has just gone off to war."

Amber pointed a finger at me. "That part. Heavy on the lover."

I groaned again. "I sighed because I was tired. A man can’t be tired anymore?"

Krystal waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. But we’re gonna find out eventually."

I lifted my head just enough to glare at them. "You all deserve the gas chamber."

"Aww," Amber put a hand to her chest. "You and your lover will be right there with us, Sweaty."

Krystal and Luna made little hearts with their fingers and blew kisses at me. I dropped my back onto the table. Hard. A few times.

I could feel my sanity slipping.

—

I finished my classes for the day and—after barely surviving another round of my friends’ relentless interrogations—I texted Yoongi.

Me: My friends are stalking me T-T Yoongi: Sounds like a you problem. Me: I’m serious. They’re obsessed. I think they’re tailing me. Yoongi: So? Let them. Me: YOU let them. Yoongi: …I have a better idea. Me: Should I be worried? Yoongi: Probably.

I sighed. I didn’t like that answer at all.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed again.

Yoongi: Meet me at 8.

I groaned. Why was it always at 8?

—

Later that evening, I found myself once again regretting every life choice that led me here. I had barely stepped onto campus when my phone buzzed.

Yoongi: Look to your left.

I frowned but did as he said. Across the courtyard, Amber, Krystal, and Luna were not so discreetly lurking behind a vending machine. I swore under my breath. They were actually tailing me.

Me: This is a nightmare. Yoongi: Relax. I told you, I have a plan. Me: I’m actually scared. Yoongi: Good. Now be a good girl and stay put. Me: Excuse you?

Before I could fire off a well-deserved insult, I felt someone grab my wrist and yank me into a secluded hallway. I barely had time to yelp before I was met with a very smug-looking Min Yoongi.

"What the hell—"

"Shh." He pressed a single finger to my lips, looking way too entertained. "You’re gonna ruin the show."

I opened my mouth to argue, but then I saw them. Amber, Krystal, and Luna had left their hiding spot and were frantically scanning the area where I’d just been standing.

Yoongi grinned. "They lost you."

I scowled. "Great. Now what? We hide in this dank little hallway forever?"

"Nope." He tugged me closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Now comes the fun part."

Yoongi slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me flush against him. Then, before I could even process what was happening, he had crouched down and hoisted my legs up and around his waist. My hands braced against his chest and my brain short-circuited.

"WHAT ARE YOU—"

"Shhh," he drawled, "just trust me."

My heart was beating out of my chest. "This feels a helluva lot like something I should not trust." I whisper-yelled.

He smirked. “Exactly. Now, hold still, cowgirl.” He emphasized the word "cowgirl" by giving my ass a playful slap.

With that, he took a step back into the open—still holding me up firmly by the thighs—and started walking.

Right toward my friends.

Oh.

My.

God.

Amber, Krystal, and Luna froze mid-conversation. I watched the moment their brains broke. Amber’s mouth literally fell open. Krystal choked on her drink. Luna’s eyes went so wide I thought they’d pop out of her skull. I could see the gears struggling to turn in their heads.

Yoongi, the absolute menace that he was, only tightened his grip and smirked at them like he was enjoying this.

"Evening, ladies."

And then he kept walking.

Just like that. No explanation. No nothing. Just me, bopping along in his arms while my friends stared after us like we had just set their entire reality on fire. I let my head drop onto his shoulder, pure embarrassment burning through my entire body like gasoline on a blazing fire.

"Yoongi," I hissed as soon as we turned the corner, "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!"

He laughed, setting me down. "Problem solved."

I gaped at him. "HOW? How is that a solution?!"

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking entirely too pleased. "Well, now they don’t have to wonder anymore."

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Amber: CAFE IN 10 MINUTES! Krystal: And don’t be late, you whore!

"Oh my God, they’re gonna KILL ME!"

He snorted. "You’ll live."

I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. "You are the actual devil."

Yoongi grinned. "Thank you."

—

I took a deep breath before pushing open the door to the café where Amber, Krystal, and Luna were waiting. I tried to act as if nothing had happened earlier with Yoongi. My heart raced at the memory, but I forced a casual demeanor as I slid into the chair across from them.

“You’re late!” Amber exclaimed, her eyes narrowing. “What were you up to?”

“Oh, you know,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “Just hanging out with Yoongi. No big deal.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, a skeptical look on her face. “No big deal? You mean the guy who just carried you across the courtyard like a giant sack of laundry? That’s definitely a big deal.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to brush it off. “He does that all the time. It's just a little fun, nothing serious.”

Amber leaned forward, unconvinced. “Really? Because that’s not something people who aren’t dating do.”

“Please,” I said, trying to sound aloof. “I’ve seen him do worse.”

“Worse?” Amber exclaimed. “Like what? Eat your ass platonically?”

“Okay you’re being dramatic,” I laughed, trying to sound casual. “But it’s nothing. Just weirdo Yoongi being weirdo Yoongi.”

Amber exchanged a knowing look with Luna, clearly not buying my act. “You sure you’re not secretly dating him?” she teased, a smirk creeping across her face.

“Please,” I scoffed. “We’re just friends now. Barely.”

“Right,” Luna said, crossing her arms. “And I’m the Queen of England.”

“Okay, maybe he’s a little fun to be around,” I admitted, shrugging. “But it’s not like we’re head over heels for each other or anything.”

Amber raised an eyebrow. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

The conversation drifted after that, the topic of Yoongi slipping away into the usual mix of gossip and casual banter. By the time we left the café it was well after dark and we decided to chill out at Amber’s place. We were comfortably sprawled on her couch, a movie playing in the background when the topic of Yoongi resurfaced. I thought I’d finally escaped the topic, but I should’ve known better. I tried to focus on the movie playing in the background, but Amber and Luna wouldn’t let it go.

“Seriously, though,” Amber said, leaning forward. “You’re not dating him, right?”

I waved my hand dismissively. “No! It was just a silly stunt. You guys are making way too big of a deal out of it.”

Luna rolled her eyes. “Not buying it. That was way too flirty to just be ‘friends.’”

Krystal chimed in, clearly convinced. “I dunno, I think it was real. Although you two are definitely still hiding something.”

I shook my head. “It was just a joke, I promise!”

Amber and Luna exchanged glances, still unconvinced. “Okay, let’s make a bet,” Amber suggested, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “If we catch you two together on an actual date, you owe us dinner at that new place downtown.”

Krystal smirked and then quickly added, “And if we can’t catch you by the end of the week, we’ll leave you and Yoongi alone.”

I opened my mouth to protest but realized I didn’t want to get caught in a lie. “You guys are ridiculous! You’re not going to catch anything because there's nothing to catch!”

“Challenge accepted!” Luna exclaimed, her competitive spirit ignited. “I’ll be your shadow!”

Amber grinned. “And I’ll be her shadow!”

“Fine!” I threw my hands up in mock defeat, knowing full well I’d have to navigate this chaotic situation. “But just know, if you lose, you’re buying all my snacks for a week.”

“Deal!” Amber and Luna said in unison, sealing the bet with a high five.

As they giggled about their plan, I felt a mix of anxiety and excitement. This was going to be a mess, and deep down, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

—

The next week started off as normal as ever. Classes dragged, internship meetings were tedious, and I kept my head down, focusing on my work. Or at least, I tried to. It was nearly impossible to ignore the three pairs of eyes constantly glued to me from every direction. Amber, Krystal, and Luna watched me like I might suddenly sprout wings and fly off if they blinked.

It was cute at first—the way they'd lean in and exchange smirks whenever Yoongi and I so much as made eye contact. How they'd giggle like schoolgirls whenever we passed each other in the hall or agreed with each other during project meetings. But by Wednesday, the novelty had worn off. Now, it was just plain annoying.

Every time I met up with Yoongi, it felt like I was being watched, even though I knew my friends weren’t actually following me around. Still, the occasional text from Luna or Amber would pop up, asking where I was, who I was with, what I was doing. I’d roll my eyes at each one, but I couldn’t exactly tell them to lay off. They weren’t wrong—I was keeping something from them.

And Yoongi? He seemed completely unphased by all of this. He still hadn’t found out about the bet, and honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or terrified. It was only a matter of time before he caught on, but for now, he was blissfully ignorant, going about his day as if everything between us was as casual as ever.

Thursday evening we met up at the usual campus diner. I’d been avoiding the place all week, not wanting to risk running into my friends, but Yoongi had insisted, and I didn’t have a good excuse not to go. We slipped into a corner booth, and I was about to take a sip of my water when he casually dropped a bomb.

“So, your friends are being weird. Anything you wanna tell me?” he asked, looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

My hand froze mid-air, the glass barely inches from my lips. Okay, so maybe Yoongi wasn’t as oblivious as I thought. I set the glass down slowly, meeting his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Yoongi leaned back in his seat, his usual lazy grin on his face. “I mean, they’ve been following us around, asking if we’re ‘just friends,’ or if there’s something more going on. It’s like they’re pretending to be little detectives.”

My stomach dropped. I knew they were being dramatic, but I hadn’t realized they were being so obvious. I thought I was doing a good job keeping things low-key, keeping them from raising his suspicions.

“Oh, you know them,” I said quickly, trying to deflect. “They’re just being nosy. It’s not everyday bad boy Yoongi leaves his crew to mingle with the enemy, ya know.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Maybe. But I get the feeling they know you well enough to see that there is something more between us.”

I nearly choked on my coffee. “What?”

He smirked, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Just a thought.”

I sighed, feeling both embarrassed and a little annoyed. “It’s not like I made a bet that they would catch us on a date or anything. I didn’t even want them to know about my—” I stopped myself before I could say anything more revealing about my feelings for him—not that I even knew what those feelings were yet.

Yoongi’s smirk softened into something a little more genuine, like he understood exactly how I felt. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure we don’t give them more fuel to work with.”

I appreciated the sentiment, but the way he said it made my stomach flip. What kind of game was he playing, exactly?

We spent the next half hour talking about everything else, but my mind kept drifting back to the bet. There was no way they’d let it go. I just needed to get through the next three days without the girls catching us alone or Yoongi doing anything else crazy for attention.

----------------------------------------

I huffed. “And if I tell you to shove your ‘incentives’ up your ass.”

“Then I hope you enjoy Amber’s interrogation methods.”

I shuddered. Amber alone was terrifying. But with Krystal and Luna? I wouldn’t last a day. And Yoongi knew it. He definitely saw my resolve waver because he took a step closer, eyes gleaming with victory. Instinctively, I stepped back, avoiding his gaze.

“So? What’s it gonna be?”

Another step forward. Another step back. And then—my legs hit something, and before I could catch myself, I stumbled, landing ungracefully onto the couch behind me. I barely had time to recover before Yoongi closed the distance, hands bracing on either side of me—his left on the back of the couch just above my head, his right settling next to mine on the armrest. I was trapped.

I exhaled sharply, shoulders slumping. “Fine. But I have conditions.”

His lips twitched. “You’re negotiating with me? Bold.”

I ignored him. “One, we only meet up off-campus—”

“Suspicious, but okay.”

I scowled. “Two, we do normal things. No weird Yoongi-style activities.”

He hummed. “Define normal.”

I rolled my eyes. “I dunno like… coffee shops. Movies. Stuff that doesn’t involve me questioning my life choices.”

“Boring, but fine.” He looked entirely unbothered. “Next?”

I hesitated, then pointed at him. “No flirting.”

He outright laughed. “Now that’s really unrealistic.”

“I mean it, Min.”

“Sure, sure.” He was still smirking. “No flirting. Anything else, your highness?”

I pursed my lips, feeling like I’d somehow already lost this battle. “…That’s it.”

Yoongi nodded, straightening up. “Great. First meetup is tomorrow.”

I gaped. “Tomorrow? We just made this deal—”

“And I’m holding up my end of the bargain.” His smirk deepened. “Unless you’d rather I stop by Namjoon’s on my way out?”

I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose. “Fine.”

“Smart girl. Pick you up at eight.” He tapped me lightly on the nose before walking out of the studio. 

I turned to argue, but he was already gone, leaving me sitting there with the sinking realization that I’d just walked into a trap. I let out a slow breath, running a hand down my face as the sinking realization settled in.

"Why is it always eight?" I muttered under my breath, scowling at the empty doorway.

—

I was already regretting this.

Yoongi had given me an address, a simple “Meet me here at 8” text, and nothing else. And now, as I stood in front of a tiny, dimly lit bookstore tucked into an alleyway, I wondered if I was about to get lured into some kind of underground crime syndicate.

I pulled out my phone and texted him.

Me: Are you serious? A bookstore? Yoongi: You said normal. Me: Normal people go to cafes, not creepy side-street bookstores! Yoongi: You’re here, aren’t you?

I clenched my jaw. Smug bastard.

Before I could type out an appropriately scathing reply, the door creaked open. Yoongi leaned against the frame, looking effortlessly cool in his usual black ensemble, one hand shoved into his pocket.

“Coming in, or are you just gonna loiter suspiciously?”

I glared. “Is this where you take all your enemies to bond?”

“Only my favorite ones.” His lips twitched. “Now get inside before you get snatched off the street.”

I grumbled but stepped in, the scent of old paper and ink immediately wrapping around me like a warm blanket. The shop was cozy, with overstuffed chairs and little lamps casting golden pools of light over the shelves. It was quiet, save for the distant rustling of pages and a soft jazz tune playing from a record player in the corner.

Yoongi led me toward the back, where a small, tucked-away reading nook was hidden. A tiny café counter sat nearby, offering tea and pastries.

I folded my arms. “This is your idea of a fun night out?”

Yoongi sat down in an armchair and stretched out lazily. “You’re the one who wanted normal.”

I scoffed. “Most people would pick a movie or dinner, not a library for hipsters.”

“Most people are boring.” He flipped open a book and looked at me expectantly. “Well? Pick something.”

I frowned. “Pick what?”

“A book. That’s what you do in a bookstore.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicious. “Why do I feel like this is a test?”

Yoongi smirked but didn’t confirm or deny.

I sighed, scanning the shelves before grabbing a book at random. I plopped down across from him and flipped it open. Fine. If this is what he wanted, I’d play along.

Minutes passed.

Then half an hour.

And to my horror… I actually started enjoying myself.

The silence was surprisingly comfortable. Every once in a while, I’d glance up and catch Yoongi watching me over the edge of his book, his expression unreadable. The air felt charged, but not in an unbearable way. It was just… there.

Eventually, I cleared my throat. “You’re being weirdly quiet.”

Yoongi’s eyes flickered with amusement. “Didn’t know you wanted me to talk.”

I scowled. “I didn’t say all that.”

“Hm.” He shut his book and leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand. “You’re having fun.”

I scoffed. “No, I’m not.”

He smirked. “Liar.”

I turned back to my book, determined to ignore him.

I wasn’t having fun.

Definitely not.

…Right?

The silence stretched again, but now it felt heavier, like Yoongi was waiting for something. Finally, he spoke, voice quieter than before. “You don’t read often, do you?”

I raised a brow in confusion. “What makes you say that?”

“You’ve been reading the same page for ten minutes.”

My face heated. “Maybe I’m just really taking it in.”

He chuckled, leaning back again. “Right. Or maybe you’re too busy thinking about me.”

I snapped my book shut. “Wow, someone’s full of himself.”

Yoongi just grinned. “Am I wrong?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. He took my silence as victory, his smug expression deepening.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you’re still here.”

I huffed, crossing my arms. “Only to make sure you keep your mouth shut.”

“Mm.” He hummed. “If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

I grabbed the nearest pillow from one of the chairs and threw it at him. He dodged it easily, laughing under his breath before going back to his book.

And somehow, despite my better judgment… I stayed.

—

I was not thinking about Yoongi.

I was not replaying the quiet moments in that bookstore, the way he’d smirked when he caught me actually enjoying myself, or the way his voice had softened just the slightest bit when he told me to pick something.

Nope. Not happening.

“Earth to Y/N.”

A hand waved in front of my face, and I blinked back into reality. Amber, Krystal, and Luna were staring at me expectantly from across the cafeteria table, their trays half-empty and their expressions far too amused for my liking.

“What?” I asked defensively.

Amber snorted. “You’ve been zoning out for the past five minutes. I asked you if you wanted to come to the new karaoke bar on Saturday, and you just sat there, staring into space like a lovesick fool.”

I choked on my water. “Excuse me?”

Krystal arched her brow. “So, who’s the guy?”

“There’s no guy!” I said way too quickly.

Luna gasped. “There’s totally a guy.”

“There is no guy,” I repeated, glaring at them.

Amber tapped a finger against her chin. “You have been acting weird lately…”

“I have not. That is a false accusation.”

Krystal smirked. “You so have. First, you were avoiding Yoongi like he had the plague. Now, you’re spacing out mid-conversation? Highly suspicious.”

I rolled my eyes. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Luna hummed. “So you wouldn’t mind if we asked Yoongi about it?”

I froze. That was exactly what they wanted—some kind of reaction, some kind of proof that they were onto something. But I refused to give them the satisfaction. I leaned back in my seat, feigning nonchalance.

“Go ahead. He’ll just glare at you until you leave him alone.”

Amber frowned. “That’s true… He is kinda scary.”

Krystal nodded. “Yeah, but only to other people. He’s awfully chatty with you.”

I clenched my jaw. Damn it. They had noticed.

Luna’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Wait—what if Yoongi is the guy?”

The air around the table shifted.

I forced out a laugh. “Okay, now I know you’re all insane.”

Amber squinted at me. “That wasn’t a denial.”

“It was. And this is stupid!” I gestured vaguely in frustration. “Have you seen me and Yoongi? We argue constantly. We don’t even like each other.”

Krystal pursed her lips. “And yet, you’re being very defensive right now.”

I groaned, grabbing my tray. “I’m leaving.”

Luna gasped dramatically. “She’s running away! That means we’re right!”

I flipped them off over my shoulder. “You guys need hobbies!”

As I stomped away, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and nearly tripped over my own feet.

Yoongi: Did you get caught?

My face burned. I spun around, scanning the cafeteria until my eyes landed on him, sitting at a table near the back. His friends were talking around him, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was watching me. And smirking. I gritted my teeth and typed furiously.

Me: No. But they’re suspicious. Me: This is your fault. Yoongi: My fault? Me: Yes! You keep looking at me. Stop it! Yoongi: But you’re so fun to mess with.

I nearly screamed.

He was so infuriating.

—

I had made a huge mistake.

A terrible, irreversible mistake.

Because the more time I spent alone with Yoongi, the harder it was to convince myself that I didn’t like it. That I didn’t—shouldn’t—enjoy the way he always leaned in too close just to see me squirm. Or the way his voice fell quiet, deep and rumbling, as he teasing whenever we were alone.

The problem was, avoiding him meant facing my other problem—my friends. And considering they were actively trying to uncover a nonexistent relationship, spending time with Yoongi had become the easier option.

Which was exactly how I ended up here, sitting across from him in the dim corner of a tiny ramen shop just off campus. I poked at my noodles, trying very hard not to look at him.

“You’re quiet today,” Yoongi mused, breaking apart his chopsticks.

I huffed. “Maybe I just don’t have anything to say.”

He tilted his head. “That’d be a first.”

I shot him a glare, but he just smirked.

Annoying.

Silence settled between us—comfortable, but charged. It was always like this. Like an invisible thread had tied itself between us, pulling just enough to make its presence known but never enough to snap.

He leaned forward slightly. “They’re still onto you?”

I groaned. “Worse. Amber almost asked you about it today.”

Yoongi arched his brow. “Almost?”

I scowled. “They still think you’re intimidating.”

He hummed like that was amusing to him. “Smart of them.”

I rolled my eyes. “You enjoy this too much.”

“Of course I do,” he said simply, resting his chin in his hand. “Watching you panic is entertaining.”

“I’m not panicking.”

Yoongi snorted. “Right.”

I threw a piece of scallion at him. He dodged it effortlessly, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

We ate in relative quiet after that, though I kept sneaking glances at him—not because I wanted to, but because it was weird seeing him like this. No moody scowl, no sharp remarks, just… Yoongi.

At one point, he caught me staring. “What?”

I smirked. “You look really happy right now.”

He raised a brow. “And?”

I leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s just funny. For a guy who tries so hard to be all emo and mysterious, you sure light up over a bowl of ramen.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue. “I don’t ‘try’ to be anything.”

“Uh-huh.” I gave him a knowing look. “Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me you don’t own at least ten black hoodies.”

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I know I’m funny.” I grinned. “And you, Min Yoongi, are secretly soft.”

He leaned forward slightly, voice lowering. “If I’m so soft, then why are you blushing?”

I blinked. “I’m not—”

“You’re 100% blushing.” His smirk deepened. A pause and then— “It’s cute.”

I stammered. “How would you even know I’m blushing?”

He laughed incredulously, “What, you think cause you’re black you don’t blush?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but as usual, I couldn’t think of anything smart to say. Instead I scoffed, shoving a piece of napkin at him, “Wipe that smug look off your face.”

He chuckled but took the napkin anyway, dabbing at his lips with an exaggeratedly polite motion. “Better?”

I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks still felt warm.

When we finished, we stepped outside into the crisp night air, the glow of streetlights washing over the nearly empty sidewalk. I shoved my hands into my pockets, still feeling the warmth of the ramen in my stomach.

“Amber said I was acting like a lovesick fool today,” I muttered, kicking at a loose pebble.

Yoongi laughed. “Were you?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

I glared at him. “Yes.”

He shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Too bad.”

I frowned. “Too bad what?”

Yoongi exhaled, his breath fogging slightly in the cold. “Would’ve been nice if you finally admitted it.”

I just stared at him. I had nothing to say to that.

Nothing at all.

Instead, I turned on my heel and started walking. “I’m going home.”Yoongi’s low chuckle followed me. “See you tomorrow, lovesick fool.”

----------------------------------------