#justasparkmaster

       A dark sky streaks with lightening, thunder rumbles throughout the land.

       Boulders quake, but our hero stays strong. He pushes his sweatband up and adjusts his hanbok. The sweat still drips down his brow, his scar, long perpendicular to his eye shines in the flash of lightning.

        “I am not my brother,” Lil King Yoongi said, his sword unsheathing itself from underneath his garment. “I am not my father, either.”

        “Then who are you?” The hooded figure asked. His sword was drawn too, ready to strike in attack.

        “I am King Yoongi.”

        Lil King Yoongi Volume 1

April

        “Damn it,” Yoongi throws his pen across his desk, watching as it nails the framed picture of him and his parents, holding his first ever published piece of writing from when he was a teenager. It was small, a local newspaper that held an essay contest. He had written stunning prose about why he loves books, and the local library. His essay had won, beating out all the competition from his 1000 person high school and surrounding areas. The prize was having his essay turned into a column, and getting to shadow the local newspaper staff for a month. He was allowed to create a column and run 4 articles. Naturally, he chose to read and review books.

        Yoongi’s Reading Review became a hit, and after the success of it’s limited run, he was offered a junior staff position. He submitted 1 article a month, full of up to 5 book reviews. He reviewed everything, novels to essay collections, to biographies and new comic book editions. In Summer months, when his classmates were off from school, hanging out at the local pool and the mall, making out on the empty football field and gearing up for football season in the fall, he worked. In the summer they upped his count from one per month to two, and as a rising Junior they upped it again to three. Every dollar he saved went to buying more books, despite what his parents wanted (saving all the money), he couldn’t help but reach for that hardcover fantasy novel. He couldn’t stop himself from indulging in a reissue of a comic he just discovered. Yoongi loved it, exploring new lands and times, sharing what he’d discovered with other people his age. It hadn’t made him popular, perse, but it had ignited a fire within him.

        A degree in creative writing, and MFA and a series that has garnered him a Newberry honor, and he’s sitting at his desk. The desk he started writing on as a boy, refinished and brought to his apartment from his parents house, still had indents from when he would write so hard on loose leaf paper that he permanently changed the make up of the desk. Now he has glass resting on top of it, protecting those early scribbles.

       With his favorite pen now lost behind a table, the words in front of him look like utter shit.

        “Fuck.” He mutters. “Fuck!”

        Yoongi has a meeting with a new publisher, someone his agent set him up with so he could make his first foray into official childrens books. He had the idea, and the concept and what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t well, say it. Nothing came when he thought about his newest project. And what did was complete and utter shit.

        Why had he thought he could do this?

        Easy, he had to. Just like breathing, he had to write.

        The Littlest Dumpling, is a story about a little boy who looks, much like he did and does, like a boiled dumpling. He becomes brave as he goes through school and out into the world. His mom calls him Little Dumpling, affectionately, his brother teasingly, and his father prefers more traditional nicknames for his youngest son.

        It’s meant to be both hopeful and easily identifiable as a story any kid can cling to. But he can’t get started. And that is terrifying.

        Lil King Yoongi had flown out of him. He had written four volumes of it before he got a publishing deal. He knew it inside and out, every aspect of it. His agent had wanted him to make a spin off when the last book came out last year, but he wouldn’t do that. That felt so disingenuous to the characters. There was no prequel, there was no sequel. Lil King Yoongi was complete.

        So he took five years off. Went to Korea with his parents, saw his friends, rested and did a few guest review spots for new books and his local paper that still asked him to. All in the hopes that he could, when he was ready, put pen to paper and write his next great work: The Littlest Dumpling.

        Then the deadline came - his agent, Marc, set up a meeting with a new publisher. And he tried. He really really tried. But now, sitting in the waiting room, bouncing his leg and trying not to crack his knuckles, he’s going into this meeting with an idea and no pages to show.

        “Mr. Min?” Alexis, the assistant asks. “She’s ready for you now.”

        Alexis guides him to the office, through a hallway of framed book covers, pictures with authors holding their books and quotes pulled from said books. It’s a gallery wall to end all gallery walls, and Yoongi kind of wishes he was a part of.

       Inside the office, which seems more like a fort than a functioning structure, you are standing behind a desk, waiting.

       “Mr. Min, welcome to Serendipity Publishing, where we believe every book we create is meant to be. Have a seat. Alexis will you bring some coffee?” You rattle off in quick succession, no hint of annoyance in your voice, but a little sparkle of fire in your eyes.

        “Sure thing,” Alexis smiles.

        “I’m Y/N,” You extend your hand to him, and he takes it cautiously. ”And I get paid to say that phrase, though I’d much rather not.”

        “Oh,” Yoongi’s taken aback. “Okay, then please call me Yoongi.”

        “Okay Yoongi. Welcome. I’m so excited to meet you and discuss your work.”

        “That won’t last long,” Yoongi mutters.

        “What?”  

        “Nothing - just, don’t get your hopes up. I don’t know if I have anything, good.”

        You’re caught off guard by his deprivation, tipping your head to the side and staring at him quizzically. “That seems unlikely given the success with your graphic novels. But note taken. I am ready to be pleasantly disappointed.”

        “So, I have this idea -

        “Wait,” You hold up a hand and stare at Alexis who has just entered the room. “Do you want cream or sugar?”

        “Black, just black,” Yoongi says.

        “Great.”

        Alexis, hot pink curls bouncing, sets two cups of coffee down and walks out, shutting your office door behind her. Yoongi takes the opportunity to glance around. It’s an office carved out of book shelves. There’s a window, a window seat and your desk in the middle. Every single wall is covered in what appears to be clear floating shelves filled with books.

        “Have you edited or published all of these?” He asks.

        “The company has, but if you keep looking you’ll find a few that aren’t our label. I snuck them in,” You say.

        “Aren’t you going to get caught?”

        “And what, fired? I’d love to see them try.”

        He nods approvingly. “So you’ve been here long?”

        “Yeah, straight out of college, started reading the reject pile, found a few gems, got moved up and eventually here I sit: Head of New Acquisitions, Young Adult and Children’s Lit.”

        “That’s a fancy title,” He says.

        “Better be, Vassar wasn’t cheap,” You crack a smile, and his shoulders relax.  

        “Ah you’re a Vassar grad?”

        You shrug. “That’s what my diploma says.”

        “Interesting,”

        “Not up to snuff?”

        “I expected a Sarah Lawrence or like, Whitman.”

        “Small college in Eastern Washington. Wow!” You laugh. “That’s not where you went, is it?”

        “Nope,”

        “Berkeley?” You already know.

        “Yep.”

        “How’d you like the rain?”

        He shakes his head and offers a gentle smile. “About as much as you want to drink black coffee.”

        “Ah, you noticed?”

        “Yeah, I assume you brought yours from home?”

        “Of course.”

        Yoongi reaches for his mug, with the company logo in gold and rainbow across the front, and takes a sip.

        “It’s hot!” You say quickly, watching as he winces.

        “Fucking fuck,” Yoongi mutters. “Thanks for the warning.”

        “Who takes a sip of coffee like it’s ice water?” You ask, your mind racing to decide if a lawsuit is possible from too hot coffee. How embarrassing, going down for serving an author coffee that was scalding.

        “Valid,” He accepts your sympathy easily.

        You let the moment pass, then start again. “So you wrote a book.”

        “The new one, or the old ones?”

        “The new one, and your agent wants you to what, shop it around? We’re willing to make you a deal today, Yoongi.”

        “What if my idea is shit?” Yoongi’s earnest gaze is a little concerned, vulnerability and weakness showing through.

        “You wrote a five part saga about a lil king that has sold millions. It’s one of the most popular graphic novels in the history of graphic novels. You could go anywhere, do anything,” You lean forward, your voice just above a whisper. “But you’re here.”

        “How serendipitous,” he jokes.

        “Precisely. So tell me, Mr. Min, Yoongi, what is this new project?”

        He takes a deep breath, wishing he had water instead of this coffee.

        “Our parents all give us nicknames as kids, whether or not we want them. We either grow into them, or out of them. My new project takes shape with a little boy who affectionately is called, Little Dumpling.”

        “Oh my god,” You mutter. “I’m already hooked.”

        “The Littlest Dumpling is about this boy. I want the first book to be about his nickname, how he got it, what it means. Then the next to be about adventures he has as his alter ego, Littlest Dumpling, and as himself.”

        “Let me guess,” Your elbows prop, chin resting in hands. “You can’t fucking write, can you?”

        Yoongi stares at you, unsure how you could possibly know he’s had writers block for a year.

        “I - I currently have writers block. But, at present, I have outlined the first three installments.”

        “What’s book 1?”

        “His classmates find out his nickname.”

        You take out a piece of paper that has his name written across the top in very curvy lettering. “And two?”

        “His bully picks on him for the lunches he eats.”

        “Traditional Korean?”

        “Yes,” He agrees.

        “I’m in. I love it.”

        “But, I don’t have anything written.”

        You wave your hand through the air, dismissing his objection. “That’s okay, I’ve signed deals with people who had far less than you do.”

        Yoongi isn’t sure if this is comforting or concerning.

        “I see that look - but think about it, look at where I am. I know what I’m talking about.”

        “I don’t doubt that you do, but I’ve never gone to a publisher with an idea and no pages. It’s like streaking across the football field at halftime.”

        “I get it, and i know we’ve only been talking for twenty minutes, but trust me, Yoongi. You can do this.”

        He inhales through his teeth, sucking in air loudly before exhaling and doing it again.

        “I’m going to be incredibly difficult about the illustration, it has to be perfect.”

        “Understood, and editing too, I’m assuming?” You ask, jotting his answers down.

        “Yes.”

        “I have an editor and illustrator in mind for you, both have done work with our authors before to great success. I’ll get the contract sent to your agent and legal team today for them to go over and discuss. What we’re paying you will be included and competitive.” You switch to your computer, drafting an email to legal. That’s what it looks like to Yoongi, but really you’re typing send the contract ASAP.

        “That’s fast.”

        “Look, you’re Yoongi Min. I can tell you right now there’s at least five other agencies and publishing houses who want you to sign with them. Your current agencies is shitting themselves over losing you and your future projects. The sheer fact that you’re leaving your primary publishing house is, the most exciting get anyone could imagine right now. I know that’s pressure, I know that that means that you are having writers block. But Yoongi, I’m telling you, and I will keep telling you, we are your best option. You can pick who you want. You can go anywhere, truly, but we are dedicated to children’s literature. We are dedicated to the highest quality illustrations and collaboration amongst all our artists. We aren’t some big magnate, or conglomerate. We aren’t going to license your work without you knowing, and we aren’t going to publish something you aren’t 100% proud of. I promise you that.”

        “Okay.”

        “So, once I send the deal over, please take your time to look it over and understand it all. I will give you a list of editors with a single name starred for who I think you should work with, same for illustrators. But it’s up to you. Serendipity is a fabulous publishing house, and I can guarantee you will not regret signing with us or working with me.”

        “You’re incredibly convincing.” He says.

        “Like I said, Vassar. Business and creative writing degrees.”

        Why are you so hellbent on impressing him?

       “Double major, damn.”

        “I’m incredibly impressive, Yoongi. And I won’t hide it.”

        Yoongi wants to smirk, to keep calm, to remain somewhat nonplussed. But he can’t, not when you are looking at him like he’s the hope diamond and you haven’t yet realized he’s cursed.

        He can’t look away, so he whispers instead. “You shouldn’t.”    

“So, like I said. I’ll send it over and we can meet next week to sign or you can come by for more hot coffee and turn me down. Either way, we should talk again.”

        “Yes, okay, sounds good.” He agrees.  

        “Great. Do you have any questions for me?”

        Yoongi does. “What’s your favorite children’s book?”

        You smile, not waiting a moment to respond. “Harriet the Spy for classic literature. Where the Mountain Meets the Moon and Escape from Mr. Lemoncello’s Library for contemporary. Oh and The Westing Game.”

        Yoongi beams, he hadn’t been expecting that. Not one book, but four?

        “Okay, okay, I haven’t read three of those.”

        “You should. You can borrow my copies,” You stand and move to a specific corner of your book shelves, taking down all four and handing them to Yoongi. “Then you have to come back and see me.”

        “Okay, sounds like a deal.”

        “If you bend pages or damage them in any way I will take it out of my offer.” You warn him, finger pointing accusingly at the middle of his chest. He’s standing a little too close, he realizes that as he backs away.

        He picks up his coat and mutters, much louder than he intended. “You’re feisty.”

        “Thank you. It’s one of my winning qualities.”

        Yoongi has met with a few publishers in his day, and at the behest of Hoseok’s girlfriend, sat through many episodes of Younger starring Sutton Foster and Hilary Duff. But his meetings were never quite like the TV shows, or films, that glamorized publishing houses. No one was itching to sleep with each other, or fuck him while editing his books. But then again, he was in children’s publishing. Perhaps if he wrote a book geared towards adults, he’d have a similar sexy experience. But he hasn’t. Instead he’s just… Yoongi.

        The littlest dumpling that ever lived, slinking into his agent’s office to discuss the deal. Or, if his agent has anything to say about it, you.

        “She’s the hottest new publisher in the game, Yoongi’s,” Jane Huang says. Her quaffed hair is the color of flames, reds and yellows blurring into orange and curled atop her head. The sides are delicately shaved and bleached blonde. He always gets distracted by the ancient Chinese symbols dancing up her forearm, giving way to rich greens and emeralds that make up the bonsai she has stained into her skin. Jane, or Janie as Yoongi calls her, stares at him from her place behind her desk. Her office far less occupied than yours. “She’s promising you the world. Or at least, what sliver of it she can.”

       “It’s all great - but how does the contract look?” Yoongi asks.

       “She’s offering more than the others.”

       Ah yes, the others. All the notable publishing houses, the few that still cared about his work after his brief hiatus. All offering far less than Serendipity, with a publisher far less enthused than you.

       “The contract is clear, you aren’t going to get a better deal for the amount of work you’ve put in,” Jane says.

       “I’ve put in a lot of work! There’s a concept, I have outlines!”

       “But you haven’t written shit, don’t try to bullshit me, Yoongi.” Her tone is reminiscent of a scolding from his mother - which he knows if he points out, she will absolutely ream him for it.

       “Noona, I know. But there will be,” Yoongi waits for her to erupt, hoping for sparks ready to ignite.

       Instead she gently rolls her eyes. “I hate it when you call me noona. I’m not even that much older than you, and you have known me for long enough to know that.”

       “Sorry, Janie.”

       “Thank you. I’m glad you’re feeling confident. I was beginning to think you lost your nerve, and how embarrassing would that be for either of us? Humiliating.”

       He scoffs. “I haven’t lost my confidence, mostly. I mean a little. Most of it is totally gone and tied up with my writing ability which, now that it’s lost and probably never coming back, seems like a great time to sign a new contract with a new publisher who -

       “Yoongi!” Jane interrupts. “Stop spiraling. You’re fucking fine.”

       “Sorry,” He says sinking deeper into his chair.

       “She wants to meet with you again?” Jane asks. She finishes putting stickie notes where Yoongi needs to sign the elaborate and thorough contract.

       “Yes, to officially sign the contract.”

       “Isn’t that why Doc-U-Sign was invented?”

       “Yes, she also lent me a few books so i have to give those back too.”

       “I’m sorry, she did what?” Jane asks. She keens at him, elbows on her desk, body moving towards him as if she’s about to pounce. “She did what?”

       “She lent me a few books -

       “Books she’s published?”

       “No,” He’s desperately trying not to blush.

       “So, social books? Books about writing children’s books?”

       “No,” Deeper red, the colors of hell.

       “Yoongi,” Jane’s voice rises an octave, screeching in his ears.

       “Well if you’d let me get out more than a word I’d tell you that i asked her what her favorite children’s books are, and she let me borrow the ones I hadn’t read.”

       “And have you read them?” She asks.        

       “Of course,” He rolls his eyes.

       “She’s flirting.”

       “She is not.”

       “Yoongi, you’re dense but not stupid.”

       “She lent them to me, I read them. I’ll give them back when I sign the contract. That’s it.”

       Jane is still smiling, more like smirking and only a little green with envy. “Good, because no matter how hot and talented she is, you can’t fuck your publisher.”

       “Who says I want to?” Yoongi feigns ignorance, of course he wants to. He has eyes and ears that heard you spill genius to him.

       “The glimmer in your eyes, Yoongi. That’s who.”

       “Come on, you’re fucking some younger guy, why can’t I do something a little reckless?”

       “And jeopardize your career?”

       “I wouldn’t, she wouldn’t.” Though Yoongi has no idea what you would and wouldn’t do, with him. Or anyone that works for you.

       “You’re an idiot if you think sleeping with your publisher won’t absolutely tank your reputation and career,” Jane says.

       “It’s a hypothetical. I didn’t even know she was flirting with me until two minutes ago!”

       “You definitely knew she was flirting, because you were flirting too,” Jane teases. “Of course you were. Have you seen her?”

       “Have you seen the guy you’re sleeping with?” He tries desperately to pivot.

       “Uh, yes?”

       “Great because I haven’t, so tell me who he is.”

       “Yoongi!” Jane tips her head back in exasperation.

       “And not that we’re coworkers not friends shit, because you have been my agent for five years and we are more than just coworkers.”

       “Work friends is better than coworkers,” Jane reminds him.

       “You’ve told me about every exploit you’ve had over the last five years, and yet for some unknown reason you won’t tell me about this new person. Is it someone I know?”

       Yoongi and Jane met when he won a collegiate award for an initial draft of, what would become the first draft of Lil King Yoongi. He had busied himself turning his Yoongi’s Reading Review into a city wide column, and then in college leading his collegiate paper and winning writing scholarships. She’d been following his career as they both experienced tangential success. Jane had won some of the same prizes years before him. That’s how she got her start, and how she stumbled upon him. Reading his work in a contest for a 5K scholarship.

       To say in the last few years they’d become best friends would be a stretch, but Yoongi is right. They’re more than coworkers.

       “You know they’re younger than me, what more do you want?” She asks.

       “You’re being shady,” Yoongi accuses.

       “You’re being nosy.”

       ”Ms. Huang, I believe I am just trying to be your friend,” Yoongi says.

       “He isn’t in publishing if that helps,” Jane concedes. “And he’s around your age. And incredibly hot.”

       “That’s more information than I had… so I’ll take it.”

       Jane lets a beat pass. “But he isn’t as hot as Y/N.”

       “I didn’t even -

       “You have eyes, idiot. You know she’s a stunner.”

       ”Fine - she’s beautiful,” It’s his turn to concede.

       “Thank you!”

       “But I’m not, she isn’t interested in me. She wants my book, she wants my story. That’s it. That’s all.” He says.

       Jane shakes her head. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

       “I do.”

       “No, you don’t Yoongs,” She leans forward again, staring intently at him.

       He’s uncomfortable under her gaze. “How do you know?”

       “Your eyes, Yoongi. Your eyes.”

       “You’re back!” You say, smiling widely at Yoongi as Alexis brings him into your office. “Oo with presents?”

       “Just your books,” Yoongi hands the bag to you. “I liked them. Where the Mountain Meets the Moon was my favorite.”

       “I’m glad! So, tell me, good news or bad news?”

       “Uh, depends?”

       “On?”

       “I’m ready to sign my contract.”        

       “Oh shit! Yes! Great news!”

       “What would’ve been bad?”

       “If you didn’t want to sign it, if you decided you didn’t want to write The Littlest Dumpling. If your old publishing house offered you more money to write more Lil King Yoongi’s. There are a lot of possibilities, Yoongi.”

       “Clearly you’ve thought of all of them.”

       “Isn’t that my job?”

       “That’s fair.”

       “Well, while the contract is printed, let me show you the list of illustrators and editors. I’ve already starred the ones that I think would be great for this project.”

       You open a folder with his name neatly printed and take out a piece of paper with two columns. Passing it over to him, Yoongi doesn’t take long to skim it and choke on his own spit.

        “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” He says, looking across the top of paper to you.

        “What?”

        He’s quick on his feet. “I will sign the contract, but I have one stipulation.”

        “Oh?” You ask, surprised he doesn’t have more. A lot more. He could ask for almost anything and you’d oblige. You need this win.

        “Yes, I will not, under any circumstance, work with him,” Yoongi hands over the list and watches as your eyes linger on the name you had starred.

        “Okay, why not?” You ask.

        “He’s an asshole.”

        “Okay, but what about his work?”

        “Who cares?” Yoongi snaps.

        You clear your throat, trying a different approach. “Did he wrong you in your past? Is that what it is?”

        “Maybe.”

        You nod, understanding. “So you won’t work with him because he was a dick in college?”

        “High school. And we were childhood friends before that. Our parents are still best friends,” Yoongi rushes through it. A sordid past told in a quick breath.  

        “Oh my god! Yoongi! That’s even more pathetic.”

        “Is it?”

        “Yes, it is. Your parents like him, why can’t you?”

        Yoongi shakes his head, because really it’s more complicated than a petty disagreement or squabble in high school. It goes back years, decades really, and has hurt Yoongi the entire time. It’s so much more than his parents liking Seokjin, actually his parents liking Seokjin is part of the problem.

       “I will never, ever work with that man,” Yoongi says softly, his eyes hard and his jaw set.

       “So you’re telling me you won’t sign the contract if I make you work with him?”

       “Correct.”

       “Okay,” You nod and lean back in your chair, watching him. “So you have two options: One, walk away from Serendipity. Or, two, which I definitely think you should consider: get over it and push your feelings aside to create a great piece of work. Jin would be a perfect editor. He is incredible and has edited several best sellers. He is the best, and it would shock you to know how much we pay him to keep him here instead of going to Penguin or Random House or another boutique publishing house. Insane.”

        “I - that’s it?”

        “What, I’m not entertaining your teenage angst? Nah, I’m not doing that. I run a business, and if your ego is so fragile you can’t grow up, fine. But that’s who you’re going to work with.” You tell him.

        Yoongi exhales. His agent had prepared him for this, well not the Jin of it all, but the potential that his pettiness would be overruled and ignored. He would have to work with people he didn’t like, or who didn’t like him, no matter what field he was in. But this?

Maybe he should grow up and move on. Though Seokjin is the last person he wants touching whatever masterpiece you think he’s capable of writing. But- again - maybe you’re right. Maybe Jin is the best option, and he is finally ready to move past it.

        Yoongi inhales deeply through his teeth. “Fine.”

        “Fine?” You ask.

        “Fine - I’ll,” He exhales sharply, “I’ll bitch about it the entire time.”

        “I don’t care.”

        “You’re going to be the one who hears about it.”

        You smile, already looking forward to it.

        “That’s my job. Now tell me, what did you think of Escape from Mr. Lemoncello’s Library?”

        Having signed his contract and returned home with another two books that Serendipity had in fact published, Yoongi felt ready to finally put pen to paper. Though the physical demand of crawling on the floor to dig his pen out from behind the table seemed beyond reproach. But, he finally, truly wants to start writing this new piece.

        That is, until his phone buzzes, and a new email has arrived.

Subject: Untitled YM Project: Editing

From: Seokjin Kim

        Yoongi -

        Wow! It’s been a long time. What a weird coincidence you’d stumble into Serendipity Publishing. I am excited to work with you on this next project, Dumpling.

        Let’s get coffee and discuss your plans soon. I am eager to figure out a schedule and start working!

                           Seokjin

PS - I know you’re probably going to request I be taken off this project, and I’d love to tell you there’s a solution besides sucking it up and dealing with me… but unlucky for you, there isn’t. Lucky for me, I get to helm the latest project from Yoongi Min. What a partnership we will be.

        Yoongi throws his phone at the wall.

        Fucking pompous asshole who thinks he’s god’s gift to literature. What an asshat. Who emails like that? Who says that shit? Who flaunts their status and power in front of someone they have to work with?

        Fuck.

        Seokjin.

        Fucking.

         Kim.

        Yoongi’s fucked - because of course Seokjin is right. You were right when you said it earlier. There is no one better than Seokjin Kim. And Yoongi, despite his protesting and frustration and youthful hatred, absolutely has to work with him.

7 Summers Ago

           You waited in the Adirondack chairs as the sun went down and the stars began to show. Your moms were at some dinner with both Kim’s at Bar Harbor, leaving you, EJ, Taehyung and both his siblings and yours to roam the beach. The younger Kim’s had been tucked in bed at 10PM, but left to play quietly on their ipads until their parents came home. EJ was too busy hooking up with Yoongi, who her parents somehow allowed to stay with them, and unsupervised, because EJ was most definitely not having sex. Which, wasn’t a total lie. She most definitely was having sex with Yoongi, oral sex, digit sex… all the sex that comes as foreplay before penetration. And she most definitely knew what it felt like to climax, a fleeting sensation you hadn’t yet explored.

           It wasn’t for lack of trying, but lack of time. Too many activities, too much homework, too much to prepare for senior year. Your preliminary SAT and ACT scores were good, strong but could be better. They needed to be better if you wanted a shot at an Ivy. Extracurriculars and letters of rec would do a lot for you, plus the whole two-moms and being biracial was definitely going to help as well… but that was no guarantee an Ivy would care. You spent the first part of summer organizing the lists of schools to apply to, some state schools and public institutions, then listed the six Ivy’s you wanted to try and get into: Columbia, Brown, Yale, Princeton, Cornell and Dartmouth. And Stanford, the almost Ivy. In total you had twelve schools to apply to, twelve schools to impress, twelve schools to prove your worth.

           “Hey,” a voice said behind you, and you knew without looking that Taehyung had finally cleaned up the kitchen from dinner and was coming to join you. “I stole this from my parents stash back home.”

           You took the can of beer and stared at it.

           “Underage drinking? Taehyung Kim who are you?” You asked.

           “I thought it might be fun, drink it together then bury it in the recycling bin before my parents come home.”

           “Okay,” you said and cracked the top. The first sip made you wince, why was beer so gross?

           “Do you hate it?” He asked as he sipped. In his letters to you, he’d alluded to the fact that he’d gone to a party or two or five where drinking was happening. He made it clear that it was a means to an end, a way to prove he was cool and worthy of being at the party, but he usually filled a solo cup with water and pretended he’d snuck a pour of vodka from the freezer or liquor cabinet or wherever the parents of his peers hid their hard booze.

           “Yeah, it’s nasty.” You looked at the label, not recognizing it and handed him the can again. He sipped and winced, too.

           “So beer isn’t our drink.”

           “It most certainly is not.”

           “Good to know now so that next year we’re ready.”

           “God, can we not talk about next year for like, ten minutes?” You begged.

           “Of course. What are you taking this year?”

           “AP Physics, AP Lit, APUSH, AP Studio Art. You?”

           “AP Lit, APUSH, AP Chem and AP Calc.”

           “Are we going to survive?”

           “I doubt it.”

           “Hey – you never wrote to me about Junior Prom. Did you ask that girl?”

           “Girl?”

           “Yeah, in your letters you made comments about having a crush with wide dark eyes and a smile that when it expands, reminds you of wings. You were totally crushing. Did you go to prom with them?”

           “I uh – no. I didn’t go to prom with him.”

           “Him?”

           “Yeah, I think I’m bi, or pansexual… I’m not sure yet.”

           “Oh, cool,” you shrugged. This was in fact not totally new information. “That’s why when I talked about how hot Seokjin’s become you agreed, isn’t it?”

           “Yeah, it is.”

           “He’s gotten hotter. I don’t know how that happened but it’s really fucking getting to me.”

           “Whoa – swearing too? Has one sip let you loose?”

           “Shut up!” You said swatting his arm.

           “He is looking hot, so is Namjoon.”

           “Yeah, they’re coming up for a week and bringing Hoseok and Yoongi which, seems unfair.”

           “That they have a lot of hot friends?”

           “Yeah, but I have you, and you’re like…. Hotter than all of them combined so it’s fine.”

           “Shut up,” Taehyung said blushing.

           “You’re a model, Kim.”

           “So are you, Y/N.”

           “Don’t,”

           “What?”

           “Lie. I’m no you,”

           “You don’t have to be,” He said and leaned over the arm of his chair. “You’re perfectly you.”

           You turned your head and leaned across to meet his lips. They were soft and patient, reminding you what it was like to kiss him like you had summers before.

           “Did your prom date ask you to be his girlfriend?” Taehyung asked as he pulled away.

           “No, we’re not a couple. I don’t really want to date him.”

           “Why not? I thought he was interesting and considerate?”

           “Yeah, he is, but you know,” you shrugged, allowing your sentence to hang. “I did get asked out by the captain of the varsity basketball team.”

           “Oh? Did you say yes?”

           “No.”

           “Why not?”

           “He’s an idiot and his parents are republicans. You really think my moms would allow that?”

           “That’s true. What if you fall in love at college?”

           “That wasn’t even ten minutes!”

           “Sorry, sorry!”

“It’s a moot point anyway, I’m kind of pining over someone. I guess I like the feeling of unrequited love a little too much to date.”

           “You’re wise beyond your years, but don’t let that unrequited love dictate your future.”

           “It’s not totally unrequited,” You said, knowing full well he understood you meant him.

           “No, it’s not,” he leaned in again, this time kissing you with fervor and heat. “Can we go to yours?”

           “Yeah,” you stood and took his hand, walking side by side into your cabin and to your bedroom. You shut the door, grateful that Max was crashing at Taehyung’s house with his siblings.

           Taehyung kissed you as you turned around, lips moving in tandem with yours as his hands cupped your cheek. You’d both had practice since last summer, kissing other people. Taehyung had gone out with some girl his parents had set him up with, and you had gone on a few dates with a guy named Mark who was totally fine and it more fizzled than burned out.

           “Can I,” Taehyung started, then sat back and looked at you.

           “Take my shirt off?” You filled in his unasked question, because you had the same one.    

           “Yeah?”

           “Yes.”

           It seemed like a natural progression, moving from kissing occasionally the summer before, okay and completely making out on more than one occasion, to this… to topless kissing and hands exploring. It was safe and it was comfortable, he was looking out for you and you were looking out for him. And, of course, it was Taehyung. Taehyung who you’d crushed on since you were fifteen… Your best friend, and you his.

           It was all going, rather well, until you heard the front door open and footsteps getting louder and louder as they approached your door.

           “Shit,” you muttered as you reached for your shirt and tossed it on. Taehyung did the same and sat on the floor, hoping his swollen lips and mussed hair wouldn’t give anything away.

           “Y/N?” Your mama asked as she opened the door, her eyes widening as she saw Taehyung on your rug, legs crossed, and you sitting on your bed. “You know the rules.”

           “I’m sorry,” you said quickly.

           “I should go,” he said standing quickly. “Have a good night.”

           “You too, and you, living room.”

           Your mama didn’t need anytime going from cool and collected to angered parent. She did it so quickly it could give someone who was unfamiliar with her reactions whiplash.        

           “Jackie!” she called.

           “Yes? Y/N, why are you up?”

           “It’s 10pm, it’s not that late.” You countered.

           “Don’t you have work in the morning?” she asked.

           “Yes.”

           “Taehyung was here,” mama said. “In her room, with the door closed.”

           “Y/N!” Mom said.

           Your hands shot up, defending yourself. “I’m sorry!”

           “I thought we had an understanding, no closed doors, no boys in the house when we’re not here,” your mom said.

           “I know,” you said.

           “Do we need to buy condoms?” She asked.

           “Oh my god!” You exclaimed, blushing furiously.

           “Well, you’re not on birth control, and you’re having a boy in your room with the door closed. Do we need to buy protection for you?” Mama asked, clearly and with a hint of fear that you, her precious daughter was becoming sexually active.

           “I don’t think so.”

           “But you might need them this summer?”

           “I – I don’t know,” you answered sheepishly.

           “We wanted to get you on birth control before college,” Mom said.

           “You do?”

           “Yes, you never know what could happen. The world isn’t a safe place and it’s better to be protected than to be vulnerable. But we didn’t expect, I guess we should’ve,” mama sat down, exhaling loudly.

           “You know the risks, of sex before you’re on the pill or have an IUD?”

           You nodded.

“Verbal confirmation please,” Mama requested.

“Yes,” you said clearly.

           “Even with condoms, they are not –

           “I know.”

           “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” Mom muttered.

           “Yeah, I had health. Remember I got an A?” You replied, regretting the snark you’d chosen for that question. You watched as your mom rolled her eyes and your mama shook her head.

           “Of course, you did, but taking a class and having it be your reality are very different things.” Mom said.

           “I’m sorry I broke the rules.” You apologized.

           “Is EJ having sex?” Mama asked.

           “Mama!”

           “It’s a valid question, dating that older boy,” Mom said.

           “No, she’s really scared that because he’s older, if something happens her parents will like totally wig out.”

           “Makes sense.”

           “I would be worried.”

           “Well luckily Taehyung turns eighteen a few months after I do,” you said. They knew, how could they not? You scrambled from the day your birthday was over all the way until his trying to find the perfect gift and mail it on time. They’d been watching you, and taking you to the post office, for years now.  

           “Right, but now you’re seventeen, so can you please promise us, you won’t do anything drastic until you’re eighteen?”

           You thought about it, what was a few months? But in a few weeks Taehyung would be back in his home and you would be in yours, and you couldn’t… you didn’t want to take that next step with some guy from school. Ew. No, if you were going to do it before college it would have to wait until next summer. Then you’d be protected, right?

           “Okay,” You grumbled.

           “I would like that in writing,” Mama said.

           “Oh Teresa, stop,” mom chuckled. “I’ll draft it in the morning.”

           “You know this is how teens end up pregnant, celibacy pacts,” you reminded them.

           “We could take her to the urgent care and get it,” Mama offered.

           “She could have side effects, what if she starts the wrong one and has a bad reaction? I’d rather take her to her pediatrician and go over options and make an educated decision instead of just shoving the pill on her.”

           “Hello?” You asked. “Can I be a part of this conversation?”

           “Of course, honey,” mom said.

           “I want an IUD. I’ve done the research, and yes they hurt and are more expensive, but they offer the best protection from unwanted pregnancy for the longest time. I want, I want that.”

           “She is our daughter after all,” mama commented.

           “Okay, when we get back we’ll take you to your doctor,” mom decided. “And you’re grounded for the week, no seeing Taehyung except at work.”

           You arrived to the mall and sat at the empty picnic table that awaited weary workers before and after their shifts. But you weren’t alone for long, because EJ, having the day off, came to support you on your first day back.

           “Yo,” she said sitting down. “You will not believe what I heard.”

           “So, I think I’m going to start birth control,” you whispered, pulling EJ closer to you.

           “What?” she yelled, directly into your ear.

           “Yeah, my parents walked in on me and Taehyung last night and they wanted me to start before college but they’re gonna start it now.”

           “Is that what you want?”

           “Yeah, I think so? I mean, I only want to have sex with Tae, but we can’t this summer because my moms will ground me every day if I do.”

           “Oh my god did they make you sign a virgin pact?”

           “Yeah, and they asked if you’re having sex with Yoongi.”

           “I’m assuming you lied.”

           “Of course.”

           “Good, my mom doesn’t need to know anything. So you’re grounded this week?”

           “Yeah, because he was in my room with the door shut.”

           “Oh my god, ladies!” Clara exclaimed as she came up to the table, smile on her face, new summer clipboard in her hand.

           “Hi Clara,” EJ and you grumbled.

           “EJ, aren’t you supposed to be at Pirate’s Treasure Chest?”

           “I have today off.”

           “Oh, well you’ll both be excited to hear that you, Y/N, are officially moved to the candy section and out of ice cream!”

           You stared at her, unsure why that was exciting news. Ice cream was difficult, sure, but to deal with all those customers? No thank you.

           “Why?”

           “It’s because she got hot, isn’t it?” EJ asked Clara.

           “Oh my god,” you slapped her arm. The sound echoed in the near empty strip behind the stores. “This isn’t a YA summer romance, I didn’t just get hot over the school year and no one noticed.”

           “You sure?” EJ asked. “I know someone who has been thinking about you.”

           “Who?” Clara asked, then realized she wasn’t part of the conversation. “Anyway, your shift starts in five. Have you seen your boyfriend?”

           “Boyfriend?” You asked in confusion.

           “Taehyung, duh,” she said.

           “Oh, he’s probably out front, waiting for you to let him in.”

           “He wasn’t when I walked in but I’ll go double check. I’m sure he’ll be happy to have you as his work wife again.”

           Clara turned and used her key to get into the back room of the candy store, ponytail swaying and bopping as she walked. She clearly hadn’t changed in the year since you saw her.

           “She’s gonna be prom queen, isn’t she?”

           “Then marry a republican senator and eventually stand by him when his sex scandal breaks.”

           “Yikes,” you sighed. “So who has been talking about me?”

           “I’m sworn to secrecy,” EJ teased.

           “You’re the worst.”

           “Hey, EJ!” Taehyung appeared from the door Clara just entered, big smile on his lips.

           “Hi,” she said – they had been spending plenty of time together this summer before you arrived. A fact that made you insanely jealous. But you got EJ all school year, and you got Taehyung… well in ways EJ never would.

           “Y/N we gotta wash up and then I’m training you on candy,” he informed you.

           “Great, you gonna be a drill sergeant?” You asked.

           “That’s are you going to be a drill sergeant, sir, to you,” Taehyung winked, waved to EJ and disappeared back into the shop.

           “He likes you,” EJ said.

           “Considering we were topless making out on my couch, I’d say yes, he does like me.”

           “And you like him,”

           “He’s fine.”

           “Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t pine after him all school year, hoping he’ll make some long distance move and you’ll be together.”

           “I like the hope of him, never quite turning into anything real. It’s, fun. It’s breezy.”

           “It stops you from going out with other people,” EJ reminded you.

           “Who wants to date me back home anyway? No one.”

           “That’s not true.”

           “Whatever. When do Seokjin and Namjoon get here?”

           “Tomorrow night. They said they wanted to give us one night together until they steal you away and ruin your summer.”

           “I hate that they enjoy college but not enough to stay there all summer,” you said as you stood and collected your items.

           “Same. I don’t miss them at all,” EJ lied. “I’ll come by at one and we’ll bike home?”

           “I’m grounded remember?”

           “Yeah, from Taehyung, not me.”

           She was right, your moms had no problem when you rode up to the house with EJ next to you, or when she came in, gave them a hug and collapsed on the couch, ready to watch TV or play games.

           “Go swimming,” Mama said as she came out of the kitchen to stare at you and EJ. “Please, not in the house.”

           “Fine,” you groaned and changed quickly into your swimsuit.

           EJ was already outside, at the end of the dock, applying sunscreen to her arms and legs. You walked out and let her slather your back in the white concoction before doing the same to hers.

           “Are your moms really that mad?”

           “I don’t know, but I know they’re going to regret grounding me.”

           “Why?”

           “I’m so much more annoying when I can’t see Taehyung than when I can.”

           “That’s true, I can confirm that,” EJ laughed. She took the first jump, spinning and plummeting into the water. You followed suit, jumping in after her and laughing as you came up for air.

           “I think he dates other people during the school year,” you confided, your suspicion more an idea and a thought than an actual reality.

           “You do? Wouldn’t he mention it in your letters?”

           “I don’t know that he would. It took him until I asked yesterday to find out about prom. He’s allusive.”

           “In like, a hot way.”

           “Yeah, I mean he’s the hottest man I’ve ever se –

           Something wrapped around your ankle and in a swift motion pulled you under. As water filled your nose you began to fling your arms wildly, trying to hit whatever it was that had gotten to you. It’s a lake, there isn’t anything more than fish, ducks and microscopic living organisms. Nothing with a grip that could take you down. You kicked your legs, almost making contact with whatever it was as the grip released you, sending you up to the top of the water gasping for air.

           “What the fuck?” You yelled, eyes wild as you tried to land on whoever or whatever it was that had gotten you.

           You heard the laughter before you saw the face, popping out a few yards away from you, broad shoulders and symmetrical face, his windshield wiper laugh was like no ones you’d heard, besides coming from him. He was in hysterics, laughing heartily as he watched your panic turn into blind rage. EJ laughed too, because of course she had been in on it.

           “She hates you,” another voice came from the dock across from yours, and you glared at Namjoon.

           “She’s in shock, leave her alone,” Yoongi, decked out in full sun shirt and leggings, said as he sat down and dipped his pale feet into the cool water.

           “I fucking hate you, Seokjin Kim.” You yelled before climbing up the ladder on your dock. “None of you fucking talk to me.”  

           As you stomped back into your house, you could hear Seokjin calling your name.

           “It was a joke! I’m sorry!” Seokjin called.

           “I told you it was a dick move,” Namjoon said before he jumped into the water, splashing Yoongi.

           “I thought Hoseok was coming with you?” EJ asked them.

           “He’s changing still,” Yoongi answered.

           “He didn’t want to be a part of this,” Namjoon told his sister.

           “Of course not, you guys are assholes.”

           “You helped!”

           “All I did was get her in the water, I thought you were just going to be floating, not try and drown her.”

           “Whatever, it was a great prank,” Seokjin said.

           “You are going to really have to apologize to her,” Namjoon told his twin.

           “I know,” Seokjin regretted the prank almost immediately after he saw your face. He had expected you to be surprised, but he thought maybe you’d be happy he was there, happy he’d come up a day early to hang out with you and his sister. That he took some time in his busy summer, he’s working as an undergrad researcher at Northwestern all summer, to come up to the lake and be with his family. But no, you’re pissed at him, and he knows you, it’s going to last a while if he doesn’t apologize correctly.

           Seokjin hops out of the lake, having used his large wingspan and strength to pull himself up and out of the water. He stalks down your dock before turning on the sand and going to the one person’s house who will know what to do: Taehyung.

           “Why did you think that was a good idea?” Taehyung asked, sitting in his living room with a can of sugar free root beer in his hand.

           “I thought she’d be more excited to see me than she would be mad.”

           “Why would she be excited to see you?”

           “I don’t know! I haven’t seen her since Christmas. I didn’t come home for spring break, I thought maybe she’d be –

           “Excited,”

           “Yeah, to see me.”

           “And not Namjoon?”

           “Who is excited to see Namjoon except his professors?” Jin asked.

           “I’d guess you, I mean he’s in Boston and you’re in Chicago for the year, don’t you miss him?”

           “That’s not the point of this. How do I apologize?”

           “Write her a letter.”

           Seokjin wasn’t convinced. “A letter?”

           “A letter. And get her favorite chocolates and candies. Be sincere, but not patronizing.”

           “I can do those things.”

           “Write it in your best handwriting, she cares about penmanship even though hers looks like she’s nine years old.”

           “Okay, anything else?”

           “Don’t like to her, or make up something about why you did it. Be honest,” Taehyung said.

           “Did EJ say something to you?” He asked.

           “Uh, no? Should she have?” It was Taehyung’s turn to be confused about the conversation transpiring between them.

           "No, no, she just talks a lot for someone who knows so little. Anyway,” Jin said standing. “Thanks.”

           “Why do you care so much?” Yoongi asked that evening over dinner, where Mr. & Mrs. Kim were less than impressed with their eldest son’s prank.

           “She’s like my second sister, I shouldn’t have done it.”

           “Told you,” Namjoon muttered.

           “You shouldn’t have, what if she hurt you? Or you hurt her?”

           “She was only under for maybe ten seconds,” Jin said. “I had a loose grip on her and let her go quickly.”

           “Ten seconds is still enough to do damage to an unsuspecting person,” Mrs. Kim scolded. “Honestly Jin, you know better.”

           “I’m working on my apology!” He said defensively.

           “We ought to ground you for your foolery but you’re an adult, and that would be embarrassing for both of us.” Mr. Kim said.

           “Sorry for being a disappointment.”

           “You are not a disappointment,” Mrs. Kim told him. “You just behaved like you’re fifteen, which frankly is an age we are glad to be past.”

           “Nothing was as bad as Namjoon at thirteen,” EJ piped in. “Do you remember?”

           “The time he kicked the hole in the wall? How could we forget,” Mr. Kim laughed.

           “You did what?” Hoseok asked, turning to stare at his friend.

           “It was an accident.”

           “An accident was EJ putting stickers on her bedroom door. No, you knew what you were doing,” Mrs. Kim said.

           “I hate this family,” Namjoon groaned.

           “Honestly, same,” Seokjin said, meeting his twin’s gaze.

           He didn’t tell Taehyung that he had missed his brother during their time apart for college. He always missed him when they were apart. They’re twins, it’s part of their dna and make up to be completely locked into the other. It was terrible, freshman year, being separated for the first time, and for a long time. Neither came home for Thanksgiving, but thankfully Namjoon went to Chicago to stay with Jin. They both went home for Christmas and at Spring Break the entire family, even EJ who wasn’t on break yet, went to France. But there were still long and lonely hours. Seokjin didn’t take to making friends quite as easily as his brother, and he missed having a guaranteed companion. Not to mention Yoongi was still in state, and Hoseok was in New York and could see Joon more frequently. Phone calls and texting did little to fill the void, and Jin really regretted, at least the first few months, that he’d turned down the option of going to Northeastern with his brother.

           “I think we’re great,” EJ said as she finished the last of her grilled asparagus, and smiled at Yoongi who happily grinned back.

           “You have to talk to him,” Mama said the next day as you avoided spending time with EJ or listening to Seokjin.

           “I do not. He made a dick move and I don’t have to forgive him yet.”

           “Doesn’t she have consequences for swearing?” Max asked as he ate his cereal. Finally old enough to work, he’d scored a job at Gunner’s Golf Pros caddying and working the snack shack.

           “She’s already grounded,” mom reminded him.

           “Yeah, but she still gets to hang out with EJ and Taehyung at work. How is that even a punishment?”

           “Because she really wants to spend time with Taehyung, who she only sees for a month out of the year. Imagine you had a friend like that and mom and I said you couldn’t see them? How would you feel?”

           “Max doesn’t have friends,” you commented.

           “Why are you so mean to me?”

           “I love you, that’s why.”

           “Okay, love and being mean do not equal each other,” Mama said.

           “We know,” Max and you said in unison.

           “Please, Seokjin has been texting for weeks asking when we’re having a family bbq and now you won’t speak to him. Maybe he’s trying to say he’s sorry the only way he knows how.”

           “By being obnoxious?” You asked.

           “By being genuine and authentic.” Mom said.

           You shrugged, staring at the last remaining pieces of your cereal, floating helplessly in the oat milk of your bowl. “I don’t know why he’s being either.”

           “He’s a sweet boy, well, young man.” Mama said.

           “He’s fine.”

           “Have you noticed how handsome he’s gotten?” Mom asked.

           “Can we please not discuss Seokjin has attractive?” Max requested.

           “Yeah, that’s gross,” you agreed.

           A knock hit your front door and Max ran off to get it. You could hear him a little, and recognized the deeper voice speaking to him as Seokjin’s. You rolled your eyes because of course that asshole would show up at your door, unannounced and want to speak with you. Wasn’t he supposed to be sleeping in?

           “Here,” Max said, handing you an envelope with your name written in pretty hand lettering, most likely done by EJ.

           “What?”

           “It’s from Jin. He wants you to read it.”

           “Why?” You asked him.

           “I don’t know, he just said to give it to you, and this,” Max passed you a large bag of candy, which made no sense, how had he gotten into The Confectioners Corner before it was open? Let alone known to buy your favorites?

           “He’s doing this on purpose,” you declared.

           “What is he doing, honey?” Mama asked.

           “He’s trying to get me to think about him all day. Either I read this letter now and think about it all day, or I don’t read it and think about what it could say until my double shift is over and I can come home and read it.”

           “Which one is worse?”

           “Not knowing,” you answered quickly.

           “So go read it and then get on that bike and go to work,” mom said.

           You raced to your bedroom and carefuly opened the letter. Inside was a piece of stationary that was clearly EJ’s.

           Dear Y/N,

           I’m so sorry I scared you yesterday in the water. I wanted to have a bit of fun with you, remind you of the fun we had before I went to college. I think I was feeling insecure about how you’d feel, seeing Namjoon and me after we’d been away for so long. You’re like another sister to me, and I missed you. God that sounds pathetic, but you’re a family member so it’s true. I’m sorry I scared you… I was feeling nostalgic for the times we used to – well I guess the times Joonie and I would tease you or chase you around probably were hell for you… sorry for those too.

           Forgive me? Please?

                                                                                   XX,

                                                           Jin

          You laughed as you read the letter again and again. What a little dork. You took your cellphone out of your pocket and texted Seokjin.

You: you loser

Jin: did you read it?

You: yeah, I did. Thanks for the candy.

Jin: do you forgive me?

You: I’ll think about it while I’m at work

Jin: that works for me

You: for what it’s worth, I missed you too. but if you tell anyone I said that I will deny it and say Max got to my phone and texted you

Jin: glad to know you only admit you care about me under threat

You: Well you only said you missed me because you embarrassed your parents

Jin: how’d you know?

You: You’re sister has been my best friend since birth, idiot

Jin: why are you so mean to me?

You: I am not

Jin: you’d never call Joon an idiot

You: he’s smarter

Jin: I did better on my SATs

You: whatever

Jin: don’t you have a job to get to?

You: Yeah – I’ll see you later

Jin: and you’ll forgive me, too?

You: we’ll see

6 Summers Ago

           “Are you sure?” Taehyung asked the following year on July 31st, as he lay next to you on your bed.

           “Yeah, are you?”

           “I am if you are…. I wanted it to be with you.”

           “Yeah? Me too,” you whispered, then kissed him quickly as your shaking hands moved down to unbutton his shorts. You could feel him against your hand, hardening as your body somehow moved with his.

           “Do you have –

           “Yeah and I got an IUD so we’re like, super safe.”

           The idea of losing your virginities to each other had come from well…. Both of you. In letters traded over the school year, you’d discussed how far you’d gone in your hook ups with each other. The wandering hands, the temptation to go farther, the burning want that took over both your bodies whenever you were together. Taehyung wanted you, all of you, and you wanted him too. But you’d promised you wouldn’t do anything, not just with Taehyung, but with any boy until you were 18. A weird pact your moms wanted you to agree to in case you somehow slipped up last summer. You hadn’t, and during the year your want to explore sex with someone you trusted grew and grew and finally, you mentioned sex to Taehyung. He too was growing in curiosity, but had more access to porn and dirty magazines than you did. He was curious, but only if he could be curious with you.

           Your theory of him dating people during the school year was squashed, he wasn’t dating anyone, just quietly pining over someone he couldn’t ever really have… and of course you knew that to be you.

           “Can I, can I touch you?” You whispered.

Your moms had let you come up a day early to get ready before starting work, with a double shift, tomorrow, August 1st. Taehyung had been up at Lake Augusta for a while, like always, and waited for you outside your cabin when you drove up.

           What started as a hug hello soon became a heavy make out on your bed, which led to shirts (and a bra) being tugged off as his hands, consensually, worked to explore you.

           “Yeah,” he said, nodding. You watched him carefully as you slid your hand down his exposed torso, unintentionally teasing him as you caught the bearings of his body. How soft his skin was, how toned his stomach felt and yet still remained soft. You’d seen him shirtless before, but this was totally different. Your hand continued down, dipping into the hem of his shorts and finding purchase on his hardening cock, a sensation you had never experienced before. Slowly, like EJ had taught you, you began to stroke him up and down, eyes not leaving his face as he fluttered his shut. His little moans were encouraging, as was the precum dripping from his tip. You wanted him. Your body was telling you how deeply you wanted him, and his was pleading with you for more. You picked up your speed, and Taehyung thought he could see stars.

           “Wait,” He said, taking your hand from him and holding it to his chest.

           “What? Did I do something wrong?” You asked.

           “No, I just… I think I’m going to come if you keep doing that and I’d really like to you know, come inside you,” he muttered the end of his sentence, embarrassed by his own desire.

           “Oh! Okay, I don’t know, I think I’m ready?” You asked, assessing how your body was feeling.

           “Lay back,” he said. “Can I take these off?”

           Taehyung trailed his fingers across the hem of your underwear, waiting for you to give him permission.

           “Yeah,” you said and held your breath. He was the first boy to see you…. naked. And exposed.

           His hands were delicate as they pulled the cotton down and tossed them into a pile with your sun dress. He parted your legs with his hands and knelt in front of your cunt. Fingers lithe and gentle, he stroked between your lips, feeling the soft warmness of them, and admiring the liquid wetness that coated his fingers.

           “Yeah, but like, I can maybe put a finger in, or two before?” He asked. You nodded, having read about fingering and heard about it from EJ. She was so excited for you to finally have sex, as she and Yoongi had started immediately after she turned 18. Taehyung nodded and using his other hand, held your legs open. He gently eased a finger into you, listening as you gasped and adjusted to it. Slowly pumping in and out, your body adjusted quickly to the sensation.

           “More,” you muttered, a moan leaving behind it.

           “Okay,” he nodded, eyes fascinated by how your body was moving. He inserted his middle finger too.

           “Gentle,” you said, feeling more of a stretch with his two fingers than you had before.

           “Do you want me to stop?”

           “No,” the firmness of your voice surprised you both, but your eyes told him the truth, you were really enjoying this.

           He continued to pump in and out of you until he felt like he might explode from the sounds you were making and the sight of you before him. He carefully pulled his fingers out and did, what you thought could possibly be the most insane act, he licked them.

           “Oh my god, why did you do that? We’re on a towel!” You scolded.

           “I was curious. You know a lot of people like to eat –

           “Don’t say the p- word.”

           “Fine, a lot of people do oral sex before they have penetrative sex. We haven’t done that, so I was curious what you tasted like.”

           He was so matter of fact about everything.

           “What do I taste like?” You asked, dreading the answer.

           “I don’t know how to describe it, but you taste like you.”

           “Not like pineapple, or sweet or gross?”

           “No, just like you. I don’t know how else to describe it. Do you want to –

           “No thank you.”

           “Condom?” He asked, and watched as you reached into your bag, which had been lugged up because it contained contraband, and pulled out a fresh pack.

           “Moms said I’d probably need it this summer so,” you shrugged nervously and watched as Taehyung opened the box, pulled out a foil and tore it open. He stood to take off his pants and while he stood, fully naked and unashamed, slipped the condom over himself.

           “How’d you?”

           “Health class, lots of cucumbers and bananas, lots of practice.”

           “Oh,” you said, shocked a school was that comprehensive. He crawled back over you, and separated your legs to slate between them.

           “Are you sure?” He asked again.

           “I am. Yes. Are you?”

           “Yeah, fuck yeah I am,” he said, blushing at his use of profanity.

           “Go slow,” you instructed, and watched as he lined himself up with your entrance. You figured it was probably good he had fingered you, that way he knew where he was meant to be.

           It burned, gently, as he slowly inched himself further and further into you. You winced, eyes closed, face screwed up into a pained expression as he fully sheathed himself in you. He didn’t move, he barely breathed, as Taehyung waited for you to say something, anything.

           “Move, slowly please,” You said, and he did so, gently pumping himself in and out of you.

           “Oh my god,” Taehyung said into your ear. He finally got it, why every guy viewed sex as this godly experience he was just waiting to have. He imagined they felt that way because it was sex, and from the thirty seconds of it he’d had, he was feeling that way too. But maybe all his friends, or people in magazines, had had their first time with someone they deeply loved and cared about, like he was.

           “Oh my god,” you muttered as the pain eased and pleasure took over. He felt, good? That’s what sex is supposed to feel, good?

           “Yeah?” He asked, unsure what your oh my god meant.

           “Yeah, it feels good.”

           “I’m not - I’m not going to last much,” he said as his breath became more panicked and sputtered.

           “That’s okay,” you said, having done your homework on the male experience.

           “Okay, because I’m going to –

           Taehyung didn’t have much time to finish his sentence as he gave one final thrust and came. You laid, with him on top of you, for a moment while he collected himself.

           “Shit,” he said, and as he pulled out of you, he took off the condom and tied it before dropping it in your garbage can. “Keep your legs open.”

           “Why?” You wondered, staring up at his glorious form.

           “I’m going to go down on you. Why should I be the only one that comes?”

           “Do you feel like, changed?” Taehyung asked as you sat on the Adirondack chairs, sipping a homemade vanilla milkshake.

           “Uh, ask me tomorrow when I’ve had time to process,” you said.

           “That’s fair.”

           “Are you nervous?” You asked, glancing sideways at him.

           “For college?”

           “Yeah, for USC, big shot.”

           “Completely. Are you?” He asked.

           “For Columbia? Yeah, New York is scary and big and so far away. Why am I doing this? I ask myself that every day.” You shared.

           “You’re going to be incredible,” Taehyung assured.

           “I don’t know about that, but I’ll figure it out.”

           “You will, I guess I will too?”

           “You have to, we both have to. We’re the oldest, we can’t fuck up.” You remind him.

           “That’s true.”

           “At least we have one thing checked off our lists.”

           “Are there more?” He asked.

           “Yeah, I think we’ve got a few more to complete before summer ends.”

           “More repeats of tonight though, right?” He smirked.

           “Oh definitely, we definitely need more practice.” You blushed as you finished your milkshake. “I’m glad it was with you.”

           “You’re the only one,” Taehyung said, like above all else, no matter what happened the next year at college, you were bound by bodily fluid and something like love, to this moment, and to each other.

        “Your highness, what do you want to do?” Hyun-Woo asked.

        “Fight.”

        “Fight?”

        “I will fight for my kingdom. I will fight for our freedom. I will fight to keep our land safe and welcome to everyone. We will fight for what is dear to us. That is this land, and that is our kingdom. Ready the troops,” The Lil King instructed.

        “But sir,” Chin-Hae tried to stop him. “Sir, we aren’t ready for battle. The armor isn’t made, the weapons –

        “Call on every person in the land, offer them grain for a year and clothing for winter. Every person that can help should help.”

        “Okay,” Chin-Hae said, satisfied by the King’s answer.

        “And call on my grandmother. We will need her magic.”

        The Lil King disappeared into his chamber, shutting the door and sitting at his desk. He stared at the papers in front of him, spells and projections that were being written for this occasion. But they’re untested, how will they work when the forces are surrounding his kingdom, threatening his people? How will he fight?

Lil King Yoongi Vol. 3

October

        “Are you sure?” Yoongi whispers, lips against your collarbone, hands toying with the hem of your underwear.

        “Yoongi,” You mewl, raising your hips lightly to grind against him. His hardened cock presses into you, pushing all reason and judgment from your mind.

        “What?” He asks, pulling away to stare at you, lust in his blown irises.

        “We’ve been doing this, dating, for months…. Haven’t we waited long enough?” You ask.

        His chest is still pressed to yours, breasts marking him in invisible lust that’s potency is building, drawing him deeper and deeper into your orbit.

        “You aren’t officially my girlfriend, I didn’t know if you wanted to wait until we talked to HR.”

        “Yoongi, you fingered me last week.”

        “I – okay yeah so that’s a form of sex but it’s different.”

        “You know how I taste, Yoongi,” You remind him, nails scraping down his neck.

        “Yeah, and I’d like another to drink you in, but I want us to be on the same page,” Yoongi says.

        “I want to have sex with you, right now.”

        “Okay.”

        “That’s my enthusiastic consent. Do you want to have sex with me right now?”

        “More than you realize,” Yoongi answers.

        “Great, there’s condoms in the drawer,” You point towards your nightstand and watch as he rolls off of you and slips his boxers off. His tears the condom open and sheaths himself before turning back to you.

        “Oh shit,” You mutter, staring at a completely naked Yoongi.

        “Is my body weird?” Is his first thought, and first thought is best thought.

        “No! God, sorry! You’re really sexy, and I’m even hornier for you now that you’re naked on my bed than I was when you were pressed against me.”

        “Okay that’s a good ego boost,” He says and slips back to his position between your thighs. His lips find yours, passion and heat building as his lips toy with yours. He’s the best kisser you’ve experienced, or maybe you care about him so much that it makes every ministration feel like fireworks. “Are you okay like this?”

        “Missionary?” You ask.

        “Yeah,”

        “Yeah, I kind of like that for our first time we’re keeping it classic.”

        “I just want to feel you, every part of you,” Yoongi says and kisses you again.

        Your legs wrap around his waist, opening yourself up to him whenever he’s ready to take that step. It’s hard to resist, when he can feel your wetness against him, creating a smooth glide as your hips buck into his.

        “Yoongi, you’re killing me,” You moan, tilting your head to the side to catch your breath.

        “Okay, okay,” He laughs and slips a hand between you. His deft fingers swirl your clit as he lowers himself to your entrance. “You good?”

        “Please just fuck me,” You groan.

        Yoongi kisses you again as his hand glides his hardened cock to your entrance.

        There’s something thrilling about having sex with someone for the first time, particularly someone you care about. It’s both exciting, promising, and terrifying. This is what Yoongi was scared of, the intimacy that comes with sex, the vulnerability of bearing yourself completely to another person. Of your bodies joining and being unable to hide that birthmark or the scar from when you fell off your bike. The pressure to perform, to be present and there for your partner and bring them relief and bliss as they try to do the same for you. And then, it’s all consuming. The scents, the sensations across every one of your senses in all parts of your body. The way it takes over your mind and all you can think of is their name, over and over again. A prayer. A wish. A command.

        “Oh my god,” You mutter as he bottoms out, cock fully inside you, hips stilling to let you adjust to him. “Yoongi.”

        “What?” He asks, panicked.

        “I have a very good feeling about this,” You say, and use one of your hands to tilt his jaw to you. You lean up to kiss him, and Yoongi begins to set a pace. He pulls out gently at first, slowly stretching you as he begins to rock back and forth.

        “Tell me if it’s too much.”

        “It’s not, I want more,” you moan.

        Yoongi takes your direction and begins to move his hips faster, snapping harder with every thrust. It’s powerful and potent, the way his body conforms to fit into yours, his gentle touch on your face, his lips still pillows of comfort and wanting on your burning skin.

        This is sex, Yoongi thinks. This, this is good sex.

        Yoongi lays next to you, breath finally returning to nowhere as he pushes hair off his sweaty forehead. Crawling into bed next to him, you snuggle onto his sticky chest, draping a leg across his body.

        “So that was,” You start.

        “Yeah, that was,” Yoongi laughs.

        “I’m glad we waited,” You say.

        “You are?”

        “Yeah, that way we could spend too much time talking about it and figuring out how we feel about each other.”

        “Me too, time’s made me like you even more,” Yoongi says.  

        “Me too.”

        Yoongi kisses your forehead tenderly and hugs you close.

        “Can I ask you something?” You ask.

        “Yes.”

        “What exactly happened with you and Seokjin?”

        “I – that’s a long story.”

        “Will you tell me?” You ask. It’s more than that. It isn’t a simple request, tell me about this past hurt. It’s a deep sign of connection. Do you trust me enough to tell me? Can you be vulnerable enough to share with me? Give me a piece of yourself?

        “Okay.” Yoongi says. “But first, we need water.”

       The Kim household was strict, fair but hard on the two boys that were raised within it. Bedtime was the rule, honoring their father and mother was not simply biblical, but expected. Disobeying would result in grounding and punishment so severe they didn’t speak about it at school. Both Kim sons, Seok-Joong and Seokjin, grew steadfast in their parents’ guidance. They were patient and measured like their mother, genial and charming like their father. They dabbled in so many clubs and athletics it was a wonder they had time for homework, let alone Korean school on the weekends. The brothers Kim became well rounded and thus, well respected.

       Except for the problem with the Mins.

       Yoongi Min and his older brother, Geum-jae, grew in almost parallel lives to the Kim’s. They obeyed their parents, were in many clubs and sports and were respected. Well the eldest was. Yoongi was too busy with art classes and creative writing workshops to play sports. But that didn’t stop him from excelling at everything he tried.

       The problem with the Mins, was also the problem with the Kim’s.

       Mrs. Kim and Mrs. Min had met when they were pregnant with their first sons and created a sisterhood of the traveling pants type friendship. Their pregnancies, both with sons, created a deep bond between them. One they maintained when they both became pregnant with their second sons as well. They felt like the other could see them, could understand their plights and the pressures of being a mom and provider. They discussed, in hushed voices, their marital problems and shared recipes for traditional Korean dishes and laughed over soju when the kids were asleep or at sleep away camp.

       For Mrs. Kim, there was no one more elegant and commanding of respect as Mrs. min.

       For Mrs. min, there was no one more poised and put together as Mrs. Kim.

       And thus, without ever saying so, they raised their boys in direct competition with each other.

       “Yoongi-ah got straight As this semester, how can you explain your B in world history, Seokjin-ah?”

       “Seokjin-ah you’re in the same classes as Yoongi-ah, why is he getting 100% and you aren’t making a solid A? Maybe he should tutor you.”

       Both phrases were used, edited, and reused so many times Jin knew when his mother was going to say them. He knew the exact score that would elicit a comparison, the exact comment from a teacher that would provoke a comment on how smart or incompetent he was.

       At the Min household, the other side of the coin was: “You did better than Seokjin-ah this semester, good job Yoongi-ah.”

       These interactions naturally created a resentment and frustration between the two once very close friends. So close Seokjin and Yoongi had called each other brother for years, though in the presence of their parents Yoongi was expected to address Seokjin with the honorific, hyung. They had been inseparable. Fast friends, best friends who at one time knew everything about the other, despite the constant competition their mothers refused to acknowledge they put them through. Their older brothers got off fairly easily, they were the first borns and more in tandem with each other than Yoongi and Seokjin.

       Like all friendships, there comes a point where friendship and hormones meet… often to disastrous consequences.

       In high school, Yoongi was known throughout their school as the quiet, studious artist. He didn’t make waves; he rode them casually and with ease. Internally, he was a duck paddling under water. That was Yoongi, calm on the outside, panicking on the outside.

       Yoongi’s saving grace was how funny he was, hilarious even. Jokes for days that flowed quietly out of his lips and fell on the only person who ever actively sat next to him, Seokjin.

       Now, it wasn’t so much that Seokjin hadn’t discovered his humor and comedy yet… well, frankly he hadn’t. He wasn’t sure how to be funny, or what he could say that would make the popular kids he hung out with find him more interesting than just his pretty face. Which is how his habit taking whatever it was Yoongi said and repeating it to a larger, more willing audience began.

       Seokjin was popular. Very. Very. Popular. Walk down the halls having multiple people try to high five him, popular. Girls calling his name and waving like a 90s romcom popular. And thus, the comments and jokes Yoongi made circulated to a wider audience. A much wider audience. He didn’t mind, the first or second time. But my junior year, he began to pull away from Jin. Why talk to a friend when they have such loose lips? Didn’t Seokjin know that’s what sunk ships? And would, inevitably sink their friendship? He didn’t seem to realize it, or care that much that he was stealing the comments and intellectual property right out of Yoongi’s mouth to fan the flames of his high school stardom.

       The incident occurred in the middle of senior year. Yoongi was walking through the halls, headphones half in, playing nothing of consequence. He rounded the corner, and there was Seokjin with his usual set of fawners. They stared at him, bewildered and beguiled by his handsome face and hilarious retelling of what happened in AP lit. It wasn’t anything exciting, presentations on whatever topic they’d picked for their main thesis essay of the year. It was American lit, so naturally Yoongi was exploring the difference in narrative from a Japanese American and a white American during the internment. He’d found two novels set in the same time period, in the same city that he could compare. Seokjin wanted to know the American fascination with Steinbeck, weren’t there female authors of the same time doing the same thing but better?

       But the way Jin told it, it sounded more like a farce a La On the Way to the Forum.

       Regardless, as Yoongi rounded the corner, they gawkers started whispering, his name he caught, then from Seokjin

       “He hasn’t even kissed a girl. Did you know he steals my jokes? Copies them for his well, parents I guess. He doesn’t have friends. Probably because they know he’s a fucking loser.”

       Yoongi was shocked, weren’t they once best friends?

       “Did you know he wet the bed until he was 10?” Jin said, telling Yoongi’s secret to these random people. “Apparently, he slept in his brother’s bed too. Until he was twelve.”

       Yoongi went home, slammed the door, and never spoke to Jin again. He didn’t answer his parents’ questions about the Kim’s, he didn’t sit near him in class. He didn’t do anything that would involve spending time with Seokjin.

       That was a decade ago.  He still hasn’t forgiven him.

        “Yoongi,” You whisper, feeling all kinds of guilt wash over you.

        “Y/N,” He says. “I don’t want your pity.”

        “No, I’m not pitying you. I’m sorry.”

        “Sorry?”

        “When you first started the editing, you didn’t want to work with Jin and I forced you to. I was cold and unsympathetic. I didn’t give it the time or space you needed, I forced it. I’m sorry.”

        Yoongi wasn’t expecting an apology, truthfully, he’d forgotten about the conversation almost completely. You were pretty firm with him, but it was nothing out of the ordinary for a publisher dealing with a stubborn author.

        “Thank you,” Yoongi says.

        “I, he completely destroyed your trust. I flitted about like it was nothing but that’s not fair, it was something. Something major.”

        “Yeah, it was traumatizing. Took me a while to even talk about it.”

        “I’m so sorry honey,” You say, stroking his face.

        “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

        “I know, but I could’ve been nicer, kinder to you.”

        “I appreciate that.”

        “You know,” You say. “I kind of want you to stay.”

        “You want me to stay?”

        “I want you to stay the night.”

        “Oh,” Yoongi’s surprised. “You do?”

        “Fuck, you don’t have to. It’s just an idea.”

        “I don’t have a toothbrush,” He says. That’s his first thought, his greatest fear. Like he can’t run home and get clothes and come back.

        “I have an idea,”

        “Okay?”

        “Why don’t you go home and get clothes, and your toothbrush, and I’ll change the sheets?”

        “Did you just read my mind?” He laughs.

        “I did,” You answer, kissing his cheek.

        Waking up next to Yoongi is an experience. His hair a little mussed, eyes closed and lips gently parted, he’s so beautiful and soft.

        “Stop staring,” He mutters.

        “Why?”

        “It’s weird.”

        “I’ve only been doing it for maybe thirty seconds.”

        “Is that a way of saying we haven’t crossed into the weird territory yet?”

        “Yes.”

        “Mm,” Yoongi reaches for you and you scoot towards him. His arm around your waist, you’re drifting back to sleep to the sound of his heartbeat and the breath inflating his lungs.

        “Brunch?” You mutter.

        “Yeah, in like two hours.”

        The Ruby Poppy doesn’t have brunch, however its sister restaurant, Sunflowers & Daffodils does. They don’t have a cozy corner booth for you to snuggle into, but instead offer cute tables exploding with flowers.

        Yoongi pulls your chair out and you sit, hand leaving his as he moves to his own chair.

        “I really want French toast,” You declare.

        “Wanna split French toast and an omelette?” Yoongi asks.

        “Oo, best of both worlds. Yes.”

        “I think going to The Ruby Poppy weekly has helped me figure out your food preferences.”

        “That and you’ve cooked me dinner multiple times a week for at least two months, so that probably helps too.”

        “I like cooking for you.”

        “I like it when you cook for me.”

        “Yoongi?” A voice calls, and it stops Yoongi as he’s about to take your hand.

        “God fucking damnit,” Yoongi mutters and stares up at the ceiling. “Fuck me.”

        “Y/N?” The voice says as it approaches, a woman following close behind.

        “Seokjin!” You say and stand. “Wow.”

        He hugs you gently and stares at Yoongi. “Mr. Min.”

        “Mr. Kim,” Yoongi rolls his eyes.

        You’re not quite sure what to do, their relationship is strained and stunted at the moment Jin decided to betray Yoongi and never apologize. Now that you know, do you still view Jin the same?

        “This is my girlfriend, Violette,” Jin introduces the woman with him.

        “I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” You say. “Hi Violette, I’m Y/N, Jin’s boss. And this grump is Yoongi, an author at –

        “You’re Lil King Yoongi!”

        “I – yeah.”

        “The kids I work with, at my gallery love your books. There’s one kid who draws a little king in all his pieces at art camp. You’re a legend,” Violette smiles.

        It occurs to Yoongi that Violette has no idea how vile Seokjin can be. It also occurs to him, more potently than before, that Seokjin exists in a world where his decision to betray Yoongi doesn’t weigh heavily on his life at all. He probably forgot about it, moved on so quickly it would’ve given Yoongi whiplash. How fucking unfair.

        “Oh, thank you,” Yoongi says, voice stiff and posture equally as rigid.

        “What are you two doing here?” Jin asks. His eyes drift from Yoongi’s hand, awkwardly resting on the table, to the relaxed nature he walked up on.

        “Having brunch,” You answer.

        “A working brunch? On a Saturday? Wow Y/N, really burning the candle at both ends,” Jin laughs.

        “We’re discussing what I need to do to get you fired from books two and three,” Yoongi answers. “Apparently, it’s a lot of sabotage and telling of secrets.”

        “Ah, yes, probably would require blackmail of some sort. Would you really do that Yoongi, and disappoint our mothers?” Seokjin asks.

        “My mother would understand.”

        After the incident, Mrs. Min and Mr. Min sat down to discuss what to do. They hadn’t realized the contempt brewing between Yoongi and Seokjin, though they realized they should’ve seen it coming. Mrs. Min began to separate herself from Mrs. Kim, which broke her heart. But Yoongi wasn’t speaking to them, after his initial breakdown, and how could she continue a friendship when her friend’s son, wounded hers?

        “Surely she wouldn’t,” Seokjin argues.

        “How long have you two known each other?” Violette asks.

        “Birth,” Yoongi answers.

        “Oh wow,”

        “Our brothers are friends, our moms met when they were pregnant with them.” Seokjin tells her.

        “But you two?”

        “Used to be friends, now we’re enemies,” Yoongi answers.

        “Enemies is a bit strong,” Seokjin says, pacifying Yoongi’s attitude. “I’m your editor, you’re my author. We’re coworkers if anything.”

        “Unfortunately.”

        “Their working on Yoongi’s next project, and shockingly, it’s going well,” You step in to course correct the conversation, which is failing dismally.

        “Well, we don’t need to talk shop on a Saturday. It was fun running into you,” Jin says.

        “Yes, I’ll see you this week.”

        “It was nice to meet you, Violette,” Yoongi says. He doesn’t acknowledge Seokjin.

        The couple walks away, leaving you with a disgruntled and frustrated Yoongi.

        “Can’t you let it go, just for brunch?” You ask.

        “No.”

        “So we’re going to eat in silence?”

        “No, we can talk.”

        “Okay –

        “Do you think Violette knows?”

        “About his youthful indiscretion?”

        “It’s not an indiscretion, he publicly humiliated me.”

        “Right.”

        “I wonder if she knows he’s a monster.”

        “Could it be possible that he’s grown up?”

        “He’s never apologized, he’s never told his parents what happened. My mother lost her best friend because he hasn’t owned up to it.”

        “At what point do you leave it in the past?”

        “I – if I knew the answer to that I probably wouldn’t be so uptight about it.”

        “Maybe it’s something you need to explore.”

        Yoongi can take the hint, and quiets himself over his cup of coffee. He can see it, the chasm this fight with Seokjin is beginning to create between them, a rift that if he doesn’t get it under control, will doom them.

        He reaches his hand for yours. “I’ll talk to Seokjin, okay?”

        “You will?”

        “I will.”

        “Okay, I’m proud of you.”

        “I haven’t done it yet. Odds are I chicken out and never speak to him outside of the office again.”

        “Yoongi,” You sigh.

        “No, I’ll figure it out, promise.”

        “You don’t have to do it for me.”

        “I know, but, I don’t want my dislike and distrust of him, on a personal level, to affect us.” Yoongi says.

        “Us?” You ask.

        “Don’t do that,” Yoongi blushes.

        You smile. “Do what?”

        “Act like we’re separate people, and not a couple.”

        “Are we, a couple?”

        “You’re my secret girlfriend, aren’t you?”

        “I, yes.” It’s your turn to blush.

        “Then we’re a couple.”

        Yoongi and Hoseok sit on Namjoon’s couch, watching as he paces back and forth, back and forth. Yoongi can’t believe it’s taken him over a month from when he found out to fess up to Hoseok, it seems ridiculous to wait that long over information that could easily be sent in a text. But Namjoon insisted on telling him in person, so now Yoongi is impatiently waiting for this conversation to start.

        “What is wrong with you?” Hoseok asks.

        “I have to tell you something, and it’s not a big deal,” Namjoon says.

        “Is this about your secret girlfriend?” Hoseok asks.

        “Yes.”

        “It’s Jane, isn’t it?”

        “How’d you know?” Namjoon asks, stopping in his tracks.

        Hoseok shrugs. “I’m psychic.”

        “You are not,” Yoongi laughs.

        “I just knew, how could you not? You talk about her constantly, and it’s exhausting. You wouldn’t be talking about her that much if you haven’t seen her naked,” He explains.

        “Shit,” Yoongi says.

        “Yeah, damn. How long have you known?”

        “Six months at least,” Hoseok says.

        “And you didn’t tell me?” Yoongi asks, outraged.

        “I thought you knew!”

        “You thought dense little Yoongi knew?” Namjoon laughs.

        “I caught them, that’s how I found out,” Yoongi says.

        “Oh shit, naked?” Hoseok asks.

        “Post,” Yoongi clarifies.

        “Oh, so kind of like if I showed up at your apartment any evening after 8pm?” Hoseok teases.

        “And Y/N was there, naked in his bed?” Namjoon adds.

        “Fuck you both,” Yoongi says.

        “Very protective over your non-HR sanctioned secret girlfriend,” Hoseok teases.

        “Of course, he is, he’s got love in his eyes, can’t you tell?” Namjoon says.

        “I hate you both.”

        “Joon – who said I love you first, you or Jane?” Hoseok asks.

        “Jane,” Namjoon answers. “She knew, not before me, but she said it before I did.”

        “Let’s really think about it,” Yoongi starts. “If Namjoon said it first, would Janie have accepted it, or just made fun of him?”

        “Made fun of him for sure,” Hoseok says.

        “So maybe it worked out that you let her take the lead.”

        “Did you kiss her first?”

        “Yes, I did. She sat next to me, but I kissed her first.”

        “Good, with consent I’m assuming.”

        “Yes, dad, with consent.”

        “Good,” Hoseok nods. Jane would’ve castrated him if he made an unwarranted advance. Rightfully so, he would’ve deserved it.

        “And your anniversary?”

        “October 3rd.”

        The silence is brief, because Yoongi needs to talk to his friends about what happened at brunch.

“I told Y/N I’d talk to Seokjin,” He says.

        “About high school?” Namjoon asks.

        “Yeah.”

        Hoseok is surprised. “What are you going to say to him?”

        “I’m going to ask if he remembers it and ask if it ever crossed his mind how that day affected me and my life. Which I know it didn’t, because he’s a narcissistic asshole.”

        “He could’ve evolved,” Namjoon suggests.

        “That’s what Y/N said too. He could’ve evolved. But how does he get to be in love and have a successful relationship after how awful he was?” Yoongi asks.

        “The same way that you get to, Yoongi.”

        “But, I was the victim. He bullied me. He stole my jokes and comments for his own popularity, he took from me.”

        “Yeah, and you’ve made it very difficult for him to show you that he’s changed,” Hoseok says.

        “I don’t believe he has.”

        “How would you know?” Namjoon asks.

        “That’s fair.”

        “Maybe Seokjin has totally changed and is an evolved person. But he also might not remember that incident in high school.”

        Yoongi sighs, this is a new low he hadn’t quite examined. “How pathetic does that make me if he doesn’t remember it?”

        “Seems like it’d make him the insane one. He can’t remember being a bully? That’s sociopathic,” Hoseok says. He rises from his spot on the couch and retreats to the bathroom to grab more water for himself and Yoongi.  

        “I don’t want this to ruin what Y/N and I have,” Yoongi tells them. “I can feel it, this fucking thunder just off the horizon. I can see her giving me an ultimatum, a fix it or we’re over… I don’t want that.”

        “If your relationship ends, you want it to be because you’re a neurotic mess, right?” Namjoon asks.

        “Yes.”

        “Well, you’re making the real step towards not letting it,” Hoseok says.  

        “Unrelated – did you find the answer you were looking for?” Namjoon asks Yoongi, smirking mischievously.

        “What question?” Hoseok asks.

        “What is good sex?” Namjoon asks.

        “Oh, that’s a good question,” Hoseok says.

        “Thank you!” Yoongi cheers. “Vindicated!”

        “It’s a good question that I’m not sure has an answer,” Hoseok says. “More of a nebulous idea.”

        “Aren’t you sex negative?”

        “Yes, but this is a universal question anyone having sex is asking. What does it mean to have good sex, or mind-blowing sex, or insane sex?” He asks.

        “Namjoon said insane sex first!” Yoongi cheers, so glad he’s not the only one who thinks it’s worth asking.

        “Yeah, what qualifies it? Namjoon, how was your anniversary sex?” Hoseok asks.

        “It was,” Namjoon pauses. “I understand the error of my ways.”

        “The error?” Yoongi howls, laughing hysterically.

        “It wasn’t an error! Good sex is… My anniversary sex was really good. It wasn’t like, Pam and Tommy sex. It was tender and romantic, which can fall into the category of good sex.”

        “So, it’s an umbrella with lots of little facets?” Hoseok asks.

        “That makes so much more sense,” Yoongi says. “See, syntax matters.”

        Namjoon and Hoseok roll their eyes.

       “No one said it didn’t.”

       “Good sex can’t just be about orgasms, because some people, a lot of women, don’t reach climax during sex. So whatever good sex is has to be measured by individual people,” Hoseok explains.

       “Sex negative but sex knowledgeable,” Yoongi says.

       “Yeah. Think about sex with Jimin, that was good sex, but wasn’t sex with Y/N also good?”

       Yoongi blushes, bright pink and red across his cheeks and neck. “Yeah.”

       “They both can exist, different experiences, with different aspects, all good sex.”

       “Hoseokie is a genius,” Namjoon laughs.

       “That, gentlemen, is a fact you should already know.”

You: I miss you

Yoongi: I miss you too

You: How was your boys night?

Yoongi: It was fun, not as fun as making out with you, but fun

You: Things can be different kinds of fun

Yoongi: Can I ask you something?

You: Anything

Yoongi: What’s good sex?

You: Do you mean do we have good sex, or are you asking what good sex is in the broader sense?

Yoongi: I guess both, if my embarrassment can take the answer to the former

You: I think we have good sex… I think we might be headed towards great sex

Yoongi: Oh thank god

You: For me, good sex depends on my mood. Lately, with you, it’s so good because I feel connected to you, engrossed in you… but it’s also good because you make me feel like … it’s indescribable. We’ll have moments where good sex is defined by a quickie in the bathroom while we’re at dinner… it just depends

Yoongi: I want to have sex with you, right fucking now

Yoongi: (I can’t believe I just typed that)

You: What’s stopping you?

I. Salt Air Pt. 1

II. Salt Air Pt. 2

III. Are You Sure?

IV. Twisted in Bed Sheets Pt. 1

V. Twisted in Bed Sheets Pt. 2

VI. Never Mine

VII. Behind the Mall 

VIII. Cancelled My Plans

IX. Moment in Time

       “Why didn’t you tell me?” Lil King asked his mother.

       “Why didn’t I tell you?”

       “Yes.”

       “Of the prophecy?”

       “Yes.”

       “You’re a child, children don’t know of prophecies and their potential. Your head was too full of dreams. You needed to stay grounded. A prophecy was only going to make your daydreams worse… like turning them into reality.” She said with ice in her voice.

       “But I’m a King, I’m the King to rule them all. Slayer of dragons, harmonizer or lands! I am the King!”

       “And what good has knowing your fate done for you?” She asked.

Lil King Yoongi Volume 1

August Pt. 1

       Yoongi exhales and adjusts his shirt sleeves before breathing out a pointed, “Fuck you.”

       “Aye, fuck you,” Seokjin responds.

       “Oh fuck you,” he says back.

       “Fuck you!”

       “Oh come off it,” Jin says.  

       “Fuck off,”

       “I mean it, fuck you.”

       They stare in silence, unsure what else to say that hasn’t already spoken between them. Jin glances at Yoongi, confused and annoyed by the interaction they’d just shared. Hadn’t they been polite and friendly when Alexis had brought them to your office? Hadn’t they just shared pleasantries and light conversation? Yes, they had. They absolutely had. So where did this sudden hostility and venom come from?

       “Stop looking at me,” Yoongi barks.

       “Then stop staring at me”

        “Fuck -

       “Oh my god! Stop it! You two are acting like babies when you need to fucking apologize and get over your egos.”

       They exchange a glance before turning to the voice.

       “Oh, Y/N,” Jin says and stands. Alexis is next to her, holding a try with iced waters and coffee.

       “I cannot believe you two children,” You comment, sitting down at your desk.

       “We are grown men,” Yoongi says.

       “Who act like children.”

        “That is true,” Jin agrees.

       “We’re here because you two can’t seem to work together. So, let’s go over the notes. Yoongi, what was the comment that set you off?”

       “All of them. Particularly the fact that pages are lacking sparkle,” Yoongi snarls.

       “I didn’t mean sparkle like, razzle dazzle or jazz hands.”

       “Why so many Chicago references?” Yoongi asks.

       “I meant that pages 5-10 are missing something, something the other pages have,” Jin corrects.

       “I have an idea,” You offer. You’ve read all of Yoongi’s pages and all of Seokjin’s notes multiple times. Jin’s notes are great, but you’ve got an idea that will both most likely piss Yoongi off but give Jin new ideas.

       “Okay, but if it has anything to do with –

       “Open mind,” You repeat your new catchphrase for Yoongi.

       “Fine, what is it?”

       "What if you wrote it in rhyme?" You suggest.

       "That's offensive." Is Yoongi’s first comment, and first thought.

       "Offensive?" Jin asks.

       "Yes,"

       You roll your eyes. "To who?"

       "Me, the author. I'm offended."

       "Have you actually read research on rhyme schemes and how they help with students RAP?" Seokjin asks.

       "Rap? Spitting bars?"

       "No, rate, accuracy, prosody," You answer.  

       "Oh,"

       "You have no idea what those are, do you?" You ask.

       "Nope." He says.

       "Yoongi, how are you going to publish a set of children's books if you don't understand the fundamentals of children reading?" Seokjin asks, a little softer and kinder than one would expect in this situation.

       Yoongi glances from Jin to you, and he sees it in both your eyes. You’re both right, and he has homework to do.

       "I - I don't know,” He answers.

       "I’m going to lend you a few books to read, which I want you to read ASAP. Then, I want you to do an entire third edit of this book all in rhyme."

       "Do you always assign homework?" Yoongi asks.

       "Only to people who need it."

       "Why can't my book -

        “Because Yoongi. You're not writing for adults, or teenagers. Your content has to be skewed so it’s appropriate, and so does your language. Your sentences are a fifth grade reading level. A 7-year-old isn't going to pick this up and finish it."

       "Why not?" He asks.

       "It's too hard!" Jin says.

       “Can’t it elevate their vocabulary?” Yoongi asks.

       “Not if they can’t sound it out. You can do it, Yoongi. Just read the books and take time with it.”

       “There’s a reason that racist Dr. Seuss is so popular, rhyme,” Jin says.

       “That’s so, not me. At all. Me as an author or me as a human person. Not me at all.”

       “Maybe it’ll be the growth you need.” You suggest.

       “Or it’ll kill this book before it ever takes flight,” Yoongi mutters.

       “There’s only one way to find out,” Seokjin says.

Yoongi: Did you know that rhyming dictionaries are organized by end sounds?

You: I did

Yoongi: How?

You: I have a copy of one and have used it before

Yoongi: Oh… Is that like common for publishers?

You: Only if they write books for themselves on the side, or where editors before

Yoongi: You edited children’s books too? Not just Two Affairs to Remember?

You: Lets not talk about that title

Yoongi: It’s the funniest book title I’ve ever read

You: It’s honestly the worst book title in the history of books

Yoongi: It’s iconic. The fact it didn’t win awards and isn’t talked about more is wild

You: It wasn’t my choice, or Tae’s for that matter. The publisher loved the symmetry and its connection to the film.

Yoongi: Tae?

You: Old habits die hard

Yoongi: Are you two still close?

You: We’re friendly, but that’s about it.

Yoongi: To be fair, he’s a great writer

You: He is

Yoongi: Very talented, and he doesn’t even write in a rhyme scheme

You: You’re not going to get out of it

Yoongi: I know, but wouldn’t it be fun if I did?

You: I guess, your book might suffer

Yoongi: How do you just know?

You: Know what?

Yoongi: When something will work

You: Experience

Yoongi: But what if it fails

You: Yoongi, you’re not going to fail. We haven’t even put out cover art and I’m fielding dozens of emails a day about press appearances

Yoongi: Oh god, don’t tell me that. It’s going to send me into a spiral

You: Well it’s your reality. You’re highly sought after

Yoongi: By you, too?

You: Yoongi…

Yoongi: Y/N…

You: Anyway, keep exploring that dictionary. It’ll be helpful I promise

Yoongi: I read the first two chapters of that book, Know Better, Do Better and shit… I didn’t realize teaching reading was so complicated

You: Yes, but isn’t it fascinating? How we learn, why certain systems work better than others… the importance of early reading intervention

Yoongi: I’m learning a lot. There’s going to be at least 10 more edits of this book until I get it perfect

You: Good, I love that

To: Seokjin

From: Yoongi

Subject: Rhyming

The littlest dumpling didn’t have many friends

It wasn’t because he couldn’t make amends

In fact he was great at saying sorry

But people would forget like Finding Dory

His best friend was named ____ (something that rhymes with Jin)

Together they always winned (can I make up words?)

Except for their bully, Seokjin

Who made sure their lives were a living hell

And bullied them until the very last bell

Because Jin always, always, had to win

But Dumpling stayed strong

He knew all along

That his mom was waiting for him at home

With a hug, a kiss and something that rhymes with home

        Look – I’m trying okay?

Yoongi

To: Yoongi

From: Seokjin

Subject: RE: Rhyming

               Yoongi –

       Maybe rhyming is a bad idea for you. I thought you were good at everything? This is just… sad.

                           Seokjin

To: Seokjin

From: Yoongi

Subject: ReRe: Rhyming

       I fucking told you I didn’t want to do this. I can write books with a pattern in the words, but rhyming is not my forte nor is it a skill I ever want to harness. Fuck you, you pretentious prick.

                  Yoongi

To: Yoongi

From: Seokjin

Subject: ReReRe: Rhyming

        Was I not being polite and helpful? Jesus, Yoongi. Finish a draft in rhyme so we can compare it to the original. Y/N will want to see it, even if it’s shit or you hate it.

                  Jin

To: Seokjin

From: Yoongi

Subject: ReReReRe: Rhyming

           Fine.

                  YGM

        “I hear you got in trouble,” Jane says. She’s called Yoongi into her office for their semi regular meetings. Which over the years have become more and more frequent, and after his years of hiatus, are much needed.

        “I did,” Yoongi agrees.

        “But you’re working on it?”

        “Yeah, can I ask you something?” Yoongi asks.

        “Of course, you never hesitate to.”

        “How come you didn’t tell me about Y/N and Taehyung Kim?”

        Jane swallows and stares at him with wide eyes and a guilty smile. “Oh.”

        “Yeah, oh. Seems kind of important for me to know.”

        “You were off the grid for almost five years, Yoongi. You didn’t know because you didn’t know, I wasn’t hiding it from you.”

        “You sure? Because she seemed to think I did know.”

        “Well, you could’ve. Didn’t you google her?”

        “Absolutely not, why would I google her before meeting her?”

        “Like a normal fucking person, anyone would.”

        “I didn’t.”

        Jane drinks from her mug and stares at him, the little amount of steam drifting up to fog her glasses. “Clearly, you should’ve. Then you would’ve seen the last remnants of the drama.”

       “The last remnants?”

       “Yep, the movie rights that were bought, the trailer to the film that’s dropping soon, the teaser photos of the cast. Henry Golding as the lead,” Jane rattles on.

       “Oh shit, Y/N must be feeling like shit. I mean, wow. To have an accidental indiscretion rule her career?”

       “It wasn’t just an accidental indiscretion; they were falling in love,” Jane says.

       “Did you know Taehyung?”

       “I knew Y/N, professionally. But I’m sure she’s told you we’ve started hanging out socially.”

       “So have we,” Yoongi regrets it immediately.

       “Oh?”

       “I mean, we did once. For work drinks that turned social, but we might do it again.”

       “Have sex?” Jane’s excited, how desperately she wants her favorite client to get laid by the hottest person in publishing: you.

       “We haven’t even, we’ve hugged once! One time! One hug!” Yoongi says, cheeks turning red.

       “Oh? How was it?”

       He shudders. “Shut up.”

       “Tell me about it!”

       “What is there to tell? We hugged, probably longer than a standard hug, but we did.” He says.  

       “And?”

       “And what? She’s, my boss. There’s been texting, too.” Again, he regrets the fact that his mouth is moving faster than his brain and he wishes so desperately he could stop it.

       “Shut up!” Jane claps her hands together in elation. “You two are texting?”

       “Yes,” He slumps further in his chair. Unlike the chairs in your office, these are meant for moody artists to burrow deep in and hide from the world.

       “I can’t believe you are starting to date your publisher! What a baller move, Yoongi.”

       “I am not dating her, we’re friends,” He corrects.

       “Oh?” Jane says, eyebrows rising. “Friends?”

       “Yes. And she’s my boss, so that out ways whatever feelings I may or may not have for her.”

       “Does it now?” Jane asks. She can’t believe this, when was the last time Yoongi was like this over anyone? So cute with his obvious crush, the little hearts in his vision unmissable.

       “It’s supposed to,” He shrugs.

       “Wow, when are you going to fuck her?” Jane laughs. 

        “Oh my god!” Yoongi exclaims. “I’m never telling you anything, ever. Ever again.”

       “I’ll tell you who I’m sleeping with.”

       “No – no. This isn’t a quid pro quo; I’m not sleeping with her in exchange for you telling me who you’re fucking. No, that’s horrible Janie. I won’t do it.”

       Jane’s caught off guard by how serious Yoongi is taking her joke. She would never encourage him to sleep with anyone just to trade information. She’ll tell him who she’s bedding… eventually.

       “We can’t have backroom deals?” She smiles gently, letting him know she’s kidding.

       “Not about this.”

       “You like her.”

       He rolls his eyes. “She’s special, that’s all I’ve got.”

       “That’s how I feel about the guy I’m dating.”

       “Oh my god, a window into your super-secret relationship! Is he an employee? You know Y/N thinks he’s a friend of mine, but I told her you’d never stoop so low as to date a friend of mine. They’re not good enough for you,” Yoongi sits up a little straighter.

       “What does that even mean? Being good enough for someone?” Jane asks.

       “You’ve earned someone better, maybe, than my friends. Someone who has the means and desires to treat you like a queen, if that’s what you want.”

       Yoongi treads lightly whenever they discuss Jane’s relationships, never wanting to put something on her she wouldn’t say about herself, but also struggles to find ways to describe her that… fit. An enigma, Jane will argue anything he says to a fault, and while Yoongi usually loves the banter, when it comes to romantic relationships, it’s too easy to get wrapped up and fuck it all up.

       “Maybe, but how do you know that my secret lover doesn’t do all those things?” She asks him.

       “He could,” Yoongi agrees.

       “He does.”

       “That’s all I get to know today, isn’t it?” He asks her.

       “Yep,” Jane smiles. “Now, you have a shit ton of press lined up for the release and pre-orders of The Littlest Dumpling. I mean a shit show. Do you want to go over talking points today or do you want to save it?”

       “How can we have talking points – the book isn’t done. I just sent in a fucking rhyming edit that’s actually garbage.”

       “How close are you to finishing it?”

       “Well, if I keep it in rhyme, at least five more edits, if not maybe five but probably closer to ten.”

       “Yoongi,” Jane groans.

       “How many edits did Lil King Yoongi Volumes 1-4 go through before they were ready to print? At least ten each, with large-and-small-scale changes. I took out chapters from book 4 and put it in book 2, it was work! This is work! I also have fucking homework,” He explains.

       “Homework? Do tell,” Jane says.

       “I have to read all these books on how children learn to read, and how phonics and teaching reading work. All to make the text of this series palatable for children.”

       “Oh damn, Jin’s got you doing homework?” She asks.

       “Seokjin doesn’t have me doing anything. Y/N does.”

       “Because you now have to have meetings with her, too?”

       “The three of us meet, at the request of me after being told that I am one of her worst authors ever,” He tells her.

       “Please tell me you don’t take fucking pride in that?”

       “No, it’s embarrassing! All I can hear is my mother, why can’t you be nice to everyone like Seokjin-ah? Why can’t you treat people with respect like Seokjin-ah does? Yoongi-ah, he’s your elder, show him respect. All. I. Hear.”

       “He’s –

       “Please don’t finish that sentence.”

       “Why not?”

       “Whatever it is, it’s going to make me so mad, I can already feel it. He’s an asshole.”

       “Okay, but, the faster you finish book one, the sooner you can write books two and three and hopefully be done with him,” Jane reminds him.

       “I know.”

       “Have you picked an illustrator?”

       “Y/N wants me to meet with some guy named Jungkook, who does really beautiful traditional Korean illustrations.”

       “Are you gonna ask –

       “My ex?”

       “Yes.”

       “Yeah, I kind of want to see if the two of them can somehow work together. I think the American traditionalist illustration mixed with Korean would lend itself to the metaphors of being an immigrant and second generation.”

       “So many layers for a book about a dumpling.”

        Yoongi arrives to The Ruby Poppy first and finds his way to a little corner both where, if he isn’t mistaken, both parties have to sit almost side by side. It’s the only place outside that’s available, and the temperature today is far more moderate than it has been, making for a perfect summer evening. He sits, his jeans ripped and loose on his legs, his t-shirt tucked in haphazardly. He’s never been one for a uniform, but this summer he’s definitely leaning into it.

       He scours the drink menu on his phone. Last time he just got a whiskey, but this time he wanted to try something a little less…. Toxic masculine. If that’s even what drinking a whiskey neat is. It can’t possibly be, but regardless he’s wanting to try one of their themed, and half off, happy hour cocktails.

       “Interesting table,” He hears you say as you approach him.

       “Yeah, it’s the only place outside,” Yoongi stands to greet you. “Hug?”

       “Depends, are we discussing work?”

       “I don’t know, we can.”

       “Let’s not and say we did,” You smile and reach for him. He takes a step towards you and meets your embrace. He holds you a little tighter than last time, nose pressed into your hair, he breathes in the scent of your conditioner, and whatever you put on your hair after you straightened it. The softness of your body envelopes him, and he wants to hold on just a moment longer.

       “So,” You say, pulling away and scooting into the booth. “What are we drinking?”

       “I was thinking one of their mules, they’ve got a ginger-hibiscus that looks interesting.”

       “Oh, that sounds delicious.”

       “Should we order two of them?”

       “Yes, and an appetizer. Or the whole menu. I’m starving,” You comment and take a sip of your water. You can see clear across the patio of The Ruby Poppy. It’s quite pretty with the lights all strung up and illuminated. It brings warmth as the sun slowly descends. You’re also noticing how close you are to Yoongi, legs touching, shoulders practically bumping. This will do nothing positive for the crush you are trying to suppress.

       “How’s work going?” He asks.

       “What? I thought we said no work!”

       “We said no work, but I figured that means my work. How my book is going, that idiot editor, et cetera. Not your work. I don’t know what else you do day to day.”

       “I manage everyone and everything.”

       “Besides Sadie’s team?”

       You smile, of course he remembered. “Yes, but I check in with her. I read from the reject pile, I try to scope out promising new authors and illustrators and designers. I meet with the board and department heads almost daily. I’m sort of in all the places at once, and of course I meet with new authors, or established ones, as often as is needed.”

       “Yet you somehow find time to sit here with me.”

       “I did.”

       “Why?” Yoongi asks.

       “I wanted to.”

       It’s so simple, you wanted to see him, him alone and not with Seokjin or Alexis poking her head in. Just you and Yoongi, a moment of reprieve to get to know him a little better. To share a drink and laugh and maybe see if the chemistry you have isn’t just lightning in a bottle, but a sustainable, stable enlightenment.

       “How was your day though, difficult?”

       “No, it was alright actually. Someone just finished the draft of the third book in a proposed series of ten, so that was very exciting. It’ll be more exciting when we hit the halfway point though.”

       “Can you tell me who?”

       “Legally, no.”

       “Fine, don’t break the rules for me,” He teases.

       “Aren’t I already?” You ask.

       The waiter comes back with your drinks and takes your food order. You decide to order three entrees to split: classic British pub food staples in Shepherds Pie, a perfect roast dinner and Fish & Chips.

       Yoongi, feeling confident and embolden by a few sips of booze, slips his hand down to his thigh, then drifts it to yours. You stare at him, confusion at first, then a flirty smile.

       “Bold move, Yoongi,” You say.

       “Is it too much?”

       “No, I don’t think so.” He says.

       You smile softly. “I’m glad we’re doing this again.”

       “Are you now?”

       “Yes, I am.”

       “Why?” You ask.

       “Because I wanted to see you.”

       You blush momentarily, not lingering on it at all. Not in the way you desperately want to. There’s time for over analyzing when he’s not staring at you looking so fucking cute it hurts your insides. “How was your day? Did you accomplish whatever you wanted to?”

       “I did, edited a draft of the rhyming edition with Jin’s notes, and then jotted down more concrete plot points for books two and three. Altogether, productive.”

        “I’m so glad.”

       “Because I’m listening and taking direction?”

       “Yes, and that you feel a sense of accomplishment.”

       “Oh, don’t worry, it won’t last long. I’ll be back to feeling unstable and like I have no talent very, very soon.”

       “Don’t,”

       “I can’t help it, it’s all in my head I know. But I’m sure the spiral will start. Maybe once I finish a draft I don’t totally hate.”

       “What do you hate about your work?”

       “I think it’s all contrived and stupid, that’s largely my problem.”

       “You think your work is derivative?” You ask.

       “I think it can be. We’re all just telling the same stories in different words, but that doesn’t mean mine is better than someone else’s.”

       “It kind of does, Yoongi. You’re a great writer.”

       “I know you say that, and there’s hard evidence of it, but it doesn’t negate how I feel about my writing.”

       “Which is that it’s contrived.”

       “Yes.”

       “I don’t know…”

       “It feels like I’m rewriting The Brave Little Toaster.”

       “Oh my god, I hadn’t even thought of it. Don’t worry, legal will comb through it to ensure there’s no parallels or copying.”

       “I know there isn’t, all I remember is that the toaster gets lost and almost smashed. So I can’t possibly have copied it. But what if I am just taking The Little Engine that Could but making it you know, blatantly Asian?”

       “I don’t think so, the Littlest Dumpling isn’t trying to do anything other than exist within a world where his bully is a huge asshole. That’s it. I don’t think you’re copying it in any way. If you were, I wouldn’t have bought it for so much fucking money.”

       “It was an obscene amount for the work I put in,” He says.

       “Where have I heard that before?” You tease.

       “I’m just an anxious author. Insufferable is what my friend Hoseok has called me, and Janie agrees.”

       “We all have those things that we just can’t let go, no matter what. Your fear, particularly when it comes to writing and publishing, is that for you.” You tell him.

       “You’re very go with the flow – where does that come from? Weed?”

       “No, I don’t do drugs. I’m just practiced in the art of authors freaking out.”

       “And I’m freaking out?”

       “Constantly.”

       “I do think it’s my primary state of being, anxious and always spiraling.”

       “Have you always been this way?”

       “Oh, yeah. I was an anxious child, but my parents put a lot of pressure on me and my brother to be the best, or better than the Kim’s.”

       “Is that where the problem stems?” You ask.

       “Yeah, sort of. That’s part of it.”

       “My parents were very hands off, to a fault, to the point where I had to fend for myself completely and totally. It wasn’t fun, and I don’t recommend it at all.”

       “You grew up with no parental pressure?”

       “I, yeah. No pressure to be anything, but because of that I had to put the pressure on myself to succeed and to do well. I had to fight for myself, which is terrifying to be thirteen and stressing about perfect grades.”

       “How did you maintain that?”

       “I just ran myself to the bone until I got to college, then I coasted because I realized it wasn’t sustainable. Well, I collapsed one day and then had to go to the hospital for extreme dehydration and sleep deprivation. Then I learned.”

       College had been… tough. Finding friends, finding your niche had been more difficult than it was in high school where you had fit in with the highly academic students. College was full of social quandaries, drinking, no curfew and no parents. Not that it was much different from your upbringing, but it felt totally insane, and unhinged. You spent freshman year trying not to drown while gaining weight rapidly, finding your footing and your voice…. Then declaring English as your major, with all sights on becoming an editor and maybe publisher one day. You could do it. You had to do it. No one believed in you but you, could you let yourself down? No, absolutely not.

       “Shit, Y/N,” Yoongi’s hand squeezes your thigh gently.

       “I know, but I’m okay and I drink plenty of water and sleep a ton. So, I’m fine now.”

       “Good,” He says earnestly, eyes watching the placid expression on your face.

       “Tell me something,” You request, turning your body more towards him.

       “Okay, what?”

       “Mm, your first crush.”

       “My first crush?”

       “Yes, then the book that made you want to be an author.”

       “My first crush was this girl named Mai, she lived down the street and we went to elementary school together. She moved after third grade and I never saw her again. The book that made me love reading, and pushed me to become an author was honestly, when I sat down and read Charlotte’s Web.”

       “No way,” Your smile falters, not because he can’t love Charlotte’s Web, it’s just not the book you thought he’d pick. Who loves Charlotte’s Web? Not you, that’s for certain.

       “Yes way, I hated it so much, I thought that I could write something better, that I could read something better. But there weren’t books about little Asian boys living their best lives or achieving anything. I set out to find them, and when I couldn’t, I started writing them.”  

       “I get so tired of hearing the phrase representation matters, but time and time again, it’s proven that it does.”

       “You don’t want representation?”

       “No – I just hate hearing the phrase. We should just be doing it, but instead we have this stupid phrase that gets used to placate audiences and reminding them we have value. I just want us to be seen and heard equally.”

       “Is that why you focus on minorities and POC’s at Serendipity?”

       “Yes. I’ve got the power, I better fucking use it.”

       Yoongi wants to tell you you’re so sexy, that in this moment, you’re the hottest person he’s ever seen, and he wants desperately to kiss you. But he won’t, he’ll just reach the hand that was once on your thigh towards your open palm, and he’ll hold your hand tight, because right now, that’s all he can do.

        Exiting the restaurant, Yoongi walks you to your car. He pauses, unsure what the move is. You stare up at him, though the height difference isn’t much, it does create a shift in the dynamics. Yoongi reaches up first, to place his hand on your cheek. You lean into his soft touch. He brings his lips to your forehead.

        “Text me when you get home,” Yoongi asks, eyes staring into yours.

        “Okay, same to you.”

        “Yeah, and I’ll see you at our next meeting?” He asks.

        “We have illustrators coming in, it’ll be quite exciting!” You remind him.

        “Can I kiss you again?”

        “On my lips or on my forehead?”

        “Either.”

        “Yes.”

        Yoongi leans in, his lips finding the exact spot they were just in, and he plants a kiss on your forehead, lingering as he makes contact with your skin.