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the sweetest vice ꣑ৎ part one.

—who's gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames? if we know the steps anyway.

꣑ৎ status. on-going | click for the masterlist ꣑ৎ genre. classmates to friends to lovers, slowburn, angst, eventual smut ꣑ৎ pairings. pre-idol!yoongi x y/n ꣑ৎ warnings. lots of smoking, casual parties & drinking, smut— taking v!rginity, legal-age protected sex, receiving and giving oral, semi-public, dry humping, mention of pregnancy, might add some more as the story progress. [if you're uncomfortable from the idea of bunch of 18-year-olds partying and/or having sex, pls dni. thank you!] ꣑ৎ word count. 17.5k

꣑ৎ summary. Yoongi drifts through life on autopilot—sleep-deprived, disinterested in school, and chasing the adrenaline of underground rap battles. Known for his cold, monotone presence, he seems untouchable, until you—the epitome of perfection and grace, collides with him at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

As your young hearts grow fonder, Yoongi’s monotone world becomes vibrant—but one reckless decision shifts the trajectory of your lives forever.

Years later, fate forces both of you together once more—different lives, different times. A relapse of longing, desire, abandoned feelings, and words left unsaid.

Are you willing to risk everything the second time around like a vice rekindled?

꣑ৎ author's note. she’s back—and better than ever—after weeks of re-writing everything bc the first version was written like shit. lmaooo after months and months of plotting this whole fic in my head, i finally found the courage to sit down and bring it to life. this story means a lot to me, and i genuinely love how it turned out. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it ♡ this is dedicated to all yoongi's girlies out there ★

— chapter one.

Monday. A whole new week stretched out before the students.

Yoongi dropped into his chair, set his bag on the desk, and buried his face in its worn canvas. The classroom is empty; first period is Science, and his classmates are probably already in the laboratory, peering into microscopes and scribbling notes. He never bothered to attend anymore as his strict teacher wouldn’t let him in anyways.

This weekend that passed had drained him. No matter how hard he tried to wake up early, he still missed his first class. The CD burner shop had opened late, he waited because he couldn’t afford to miss it this morning. He needed the records he produced burned onto discs for the potential buyer he’s meeting this afternoon.

And then there was his part-time job. His schedule at the small chicken shop—where he worked as a delivery rider—had been moved an hour earlier than usual. He reminded himself that he needed to get out of the school later as fast as he could.

Yoongi isn’t the most attentive student, and he rarely participated, but he never missed his classes. His attendance is one of the few things about school he kept nearly perfect—except on days like this, when exhaustion and responsibility tangled around him like invisible threads.

Money has been tight these past few weeks. He had emptied his savings to buy a new microphone, convincing himself it was an investment, that better quality of sound, the better song to produce.

His eyelids started to get heavy as his mind drifted through his responsibilities in a restless swirl. With the quiet classroom and the faint scent of old paper and fabric surrounding him, Yoongi finally drifted asleep.

A soft tug on his sleeve startled Yoongi awake. His seatmate Daniel nudged him before their teacher could catch him asleep. Eyelids still heavy, he sat up straight and tried to focus on the lecture in front of him.

The second period is Statistics.

Yoongi’s eyes are fixed on the board, lips pressed tightly together. If you look at him, you would think he is listening attentively, but he isn’t. His mind is somewhere else, wandering between unfinished lyrics and unfinished responsibilities.

Then his gaze landed on the back of one of his classmates seated in front of him. He noticed the stack of papers on her desk as she scribbled quietly, her pen moving with steady urgency. Her eyes are shifting back and forth—from the teacher at the front to whatever she was writing.

The subject is math, but he could tell she’s writing anything but numbers.

He squinted slightly, trying to make out a few of the words. It was obvious that what she’s writing had nothing to do with Statistics. From the look of it, it seemed connected to current events—and then it hit him. He remembered that she is part of the English Journalism Club.

Yoongi was left amused. Just like him, she’s clearly not paying attention, but the only difference is—that when their teacher suddenly decided to give a quiz after the discussion, she would get a perfect score. Yoongi, on the other hand, would barely pass.

The day slipped by quickly—one class after another—until it was finally lunch period. Yoongi gathered his things and slipped out of the classroom almost immediately.

Time to meet his buyer.

***Changed of POV

Your stomach has been growling from hunger, but you couldn’t care less. Today is the deadline for your Journalism papers for next month’s issue. You were able to finish your part days ago—complete, neat, and flawless—but one of your clubmates chooses to procrastinate and fails to complete her part on time.

Knowing how easily one delay can cause a domino effect of missed deadlines and unnecessary chaos, you decided to step in. Reviewing the papers, correcting the mistakes, and adding whatever is necessary. You already pulled an all-nighter, but it still isn’t enough. There is so much left to polish and you are getting frustrated.

With a heavy heart, you decided to tune out a few lectures and quietly continue working until every article is refined and free of errors. Luckily, as always, you pulled through.

It’s currently lunch period, you hurriedly left your desk, power-walking to the Journalism office to submit everything. Your classmates are impressed—as they should. They are expecting a stern lecture from your adviser and a mandatory extra after-hours for the next few days to finish everything but lucky for them, they have you.

Instead of heading to the cafeteria, you returned to the classroom wanting to breathe and collect yourself. The lack of sleep and the stress from the looming deadline leaves you an awful headache— you can almost feel your temple throbbing.

It is still lunch, so the classroom buzzes with scattered activity—students chatting, laughing, scrolling through their phones. You walk to the window, slide it open, and lean slightly forward to let the fresh air cool your warm flushed skin.

Then, without warning, a loud commotion erupted behind you.

Two boys in your class were suddenly fighting, throwing punches and kicks as the room exploded into chaos. Shouts filled the air. Chairs scraped against the floor.

You remain standing from your spot, quietly watching as the class president and vice president rushes to restrain the two furious boys.

And then—

Your eyes caught a flying object heading towards your way, at exactly the same level of your face.

One of the boys, in the middle of the scuffle, begins throwing whatever he could grab. A thick almanac book hurtled in your direction.

To your surprise, out of your defense mechanism, you swerved your head sharply to the left. You instinctively lifted your hands to shield your face.

The book had missed you— but the force from your sudden reflex, intensified by panic and shock, had sent your eyeglasses slipping from your face causing them to tumble out the open window just as easily.

Your friends and a few concerned classmates rush to check on you. You assured them you’re fine but their worries only deepened as they noticed your specs had gone missing. Once you convinced them that you're totally okay, you politely excused yourself.

You exited the classroom, pacing the hallway with awfully blurred vision. A few schoolmates greeted your way but all you can do is smile back in their direction, hoping it’s enough as you really can’t even make out their faces.

You carefully made your way down the stairs, holding onto the railings, avoiding shadows that might be a person to prevent any unwanted collisions.

You managed to reach the back of the school building without any more hassle. You are exceptionally good at keeping yourself composed, that’s who you are afterall— the perfect student.

Ever so kind, polite, humble, soft-spoken, timid, and reserved girl who is cool and pretty enough to not be categorized as the ‘nerd’.

As you sneak your way to the tiny semi-closed entrance with the sign ‘No Trespassing’, you are greeted by filthy— rotted desks and chairs, forgotten items left behind by students that are long gone, and a thick layer of dried leaves scattered everywhere.

You tried to look up to find the exact spot of your classroom window but you were unable to even recognize which window is which to begin with, thanks to your poor vision.

You tried to look down, leaning closer to the ground in hope to see something reflective that could be your glasses, but all you can see are the blob of endless hues of brown, yellow, and orange from the soil and dried leaves.

Meanwhile, you didn’t even notice the figure of a guy in the far right of the long, narrow alley. Yoongi, who was a little startled when the dried leaves crunched underneath your footsteps as you walked your way in earlier.

He was about to light his cigarette when you came, causing him to pause, confusion started to grow in him when you started acting like you don’t see his presence or whatever.

He remained standing at the corner, silently observing you without making any noise. His eyes are fixed on your figure as you are looking up and down, leaning closer to the ground, straight your back, and do everything again.

To his surprise, you sank your knees to the ground. Frustrations were painted all over your face, and your eyes looked like you were about to cry.

You started feeling the ground with your hand, ignoring the filthy dirt. You move your hands slowly in a big circling motion making sure to not miss a single spot to where your glasses could have landed.

When Yoongi finally had a good look at your face, he immediately recognized you as his classmate sitting in front of him.

His forehead creased in confusion. He had never seen you come here before. The back of the school is for students who skip classes or smoke like him. Faculty members rarely venture here, which made it the perfect spot.

That’s why seeing you here is a surprise to Yoongi, thinking that someone like you doesn't belong in places like this.

Everyone in school knew and called you the ‘good girl’— top of your class, incredibly smart and eloquent, kind, always smiling, always polite.

Your hair is always tucked perfectly in place, uniform neat, posture graceful. Everyone swears that nobody has ever heard you yell or seen you upset. You are always quiet, prim, and unassuming— always blending into the background but can still be the center of attention once they focus on you.

Yoongi often found himself observing you in the classroom. It wasn’t hard; you are sitting right in front of him, timid and reserved, and watching you never felt tiring.

The school bell rang, which means that lunch is over. Yoongi assumed that you will head your way back to the class but his curiosity grew even deeper when you stayed, still feeling the ground as if looking for something. He can see the sweat beading on your forehead and how dirty your hands and knees are getting even from where he’s standing.

It’s really obvious that you are looking for something, so Yoongi stepped in. He slowly made his way closer to you.

He was just a few feet away when you noticed his presence making you involuntarily jump back to your feet. Startled, heart rate increasing by the second. You adjusted your skirt, and tucked your dirt-stained hands behind your back.

“Looking for something?” the guy in front of you asked.

“ Uhh yes… my glasses fell from the window,” you hesitantly replied, nearly breathless from nervousness.

Running into a guy you couldn’t even identify the face at the back of the school isn’t part of your plan. Somehow, it made you uneasy.

“I see. Any luck?”

“Not really…”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll find them here. Our classroom is over there.” Yoongi pointed toward the area where he had been standing earlier.

“Our?” you echoed, looking at his face as you lean forward a bit to give your best and see if your vision would allow you to recognize his face.

Yoongi scoffed internally, thinking how offensive it is that you don’t even know him even though you share the same class.

But before he could make a rather sharp remark, you spoke again.

“Min Yoongi, right? You sit behind me in class… sorry it took me a little too long to recognize you. As you can see, I am literally useless without my glasses.” Your voice is strained with a nervous laugh which doesn’t escape Yoongi's ear.

Without much interaction in class, Yoongi is a little impressed to finally speak with you, and yes, he can confirm the word of mouth that the students had been passing around for years, that when they speak with you, it’s like speaking with an angel.

Your voice is soft, words are kind and polite, your eyes have this glow that seems as if you are really interested in what the other person is saying, and your little smile suits your face perfectly— it’s like God took his time to craft a perfect smile and decided to give it to you.

Yoongi can’t help but to bite the insides of his cheek.

“Let me help you find your glasses. Aren’t you worried about missing class?” He asked once more as he started searching on the ground.

“Hmm, not really, it’s fine. I just don’t have any excuses before.” you answered truthfully.

Together, you walk toward the front of your classroom window. You watch as Yoongi squatted, digging carefully through the dried leaves.

Few seconds later, he stood, thinking he had found your glasses, you leaned forward with a smile on your face.

“Mind to hold this for me? I can’t see through the smoke.” He handed you a lit cigarette.

You were slightly taken aback when he handed you the cigarette, but you didn’t show it. You know a few of your classmates are smoking, you can sometimes smell the smoke in their uniforms.

But you were raised to rather accept than judge. As long as it doesn’t harm you, it’s not your place to judge or tell them what to do. So you carefully reach for the stick with a glowing tip, making sure not to inhale any smoke.

A smirk tugged on Yoongi’s lips. He likes how you accepted his request without any hint of shock, uneasiness, and judgement in your face— making his interest in you grow further.

He continued searching the ground when an ear-piercing whistle shattered the quiet between the two of you. Your heads snapped toward the sound, just as the unmistakable figure of the school’s guidance counselor appeared, fuming, eyes fixed on the cigarette tucked between your fingers.

Today is such an interesting day for you. A lot of first time’s had happened— first time skipping class lectures on purpose because of a Journalism paper, first time losing your glasses, first time speaking to Yoongi, and now, your first time in detention.

After the guidance counselor caught the two of you at the back of the school—with a lit cigarette on your hand— you were both sent to the guidance office.

Even after Yoongi explained everything— that it wasn’t your cigarette, the counselor still didn’t fail to lecture you on how disappointed he was to find out you’re smoking and hanging out with kids like Yoongi. Your record as an exemplary student was dragged through the mud, but you couldn’t care less.

And it’s true— you are smart but you’re not obsessing over your grades, you are kind, timid, and reserved but are not much sheltered. It’s just the way you are. Your reputation is the last thing you care about in life.

On the other hand, Yoongi is clearly upset, wanting to argue back, but you lightly tug at the hem of his uniform to stop him. You know that one wrong word and your parents will be called.

At last, the counselor just assigned the two of you an hour of detention after class. Yoongi’s face contorted as he thought about his part-time job where he couldn’t afford to be late.

When you came back to class, the news traveled fast. Yoongi was getting high-gives and taps on the shoulder as if it’s a competition to have you sent in detention and he just won. Meanwhile, your friends are asking what happened.

You carefully tried to explain without dragging Yoongi’s smoking into it. You know that it’s not your business afterall.

While waiting for the day to end, you were approached by the class president, Ian.

Ian likes you a lot, but you made it clear to him and to everyone that you are not interested. To you, he is arrogant, self-centered, and far more trouble than any actual delinquent.

“Hey so, it wasn’t really my position but you should avoid hanging out with people like him. He’s no good for you, Y/N.” Ian spoke boldly while standing beside you, unbothered by the fact that Yoongi is just sitting nearby and can clearly hear him.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Can you say it once again in my face?” Yoongi snapped, Ian’s words landed on him wrong.

Yoongi isn’t really the type to fight, and he certainly isn’t a delinquent. He may seem dark and untouchable, but he is polite and respectful—just like you, but in a different font.

Still, he wouldn’t tolerate anyone disrespecting him face-to-face especially when he knew he didn’t do something wrong. That is a hard lesson he learned from being an underground rapper— that and smoking.

The classroom fell silent. The air was thick with tension awaiting to explode. All eyes are on Yoongi and Ian, waiting to see who would throw the first punch. But before chaos could erupt, you stepped in— you always do.

Face blank, voice cold as ice, you turned to Ian.

“Who I hang out with is none of anybody’s business—especially YOUR business. Do not come near me or speak to me unless you find my glasses, which I’ve lost in the first place because you failed to control your classmates fighting. I might be civil to you, but my politeness ends when someone oversteps their line.”

Your words are clear, unfaltering, and intentionally sharp. Everyone who heard you is stunned, this is the first time they have seen you so close to losing your composure.

No one dared to react loudly, or say a thing. Without waiting for Ian’s response, you clutched your bag in one hand and the other grabbed Yoongi’s, lightly dragging him with you out of the classroom.

Everyone was left intrigued, eyes were following the both of you, gaze locked in your hands.

Yoongi is not an exception— he is also slightly as stunned as everyone, he completely forgot that he was about to throw hands. He simply let you lead him toward the detention room, quietly following, his gaze fixed on your soft hand holding his.

As you reached the door of the detention room, you turned to Yoongi. He was just silently, clearly observing what you’re gonna do next.

“Okay, so, the last thing you wanted to do after the trip to the guidance office is punch someone in the face,” you muttered calmly, almost sounding concerned that he’s a few moments away from fighting and being hurt.

Your words don't fully register to Yoongi at first. He’s more focused on the subtle tremor of your hands, likely from the rush of your recent confrontation with the class president.

“You’re shaking, you okay?” he spoke at last.

Blood rushed to your cheeks, painting a visible crimson hue as you realized that you are still holding his hand. You jerked your arms back, as if it burned.

“S-sorry, I—I—”

“It’s okay. You did great though, back at the classroom.” he interrupted, his tone steady.

“You should always tell people how you feel even if they aren’t pleasant to hear… and you should always do it unapologetically,” he continued, not giving you a chance to reply as twisted the doorknob and entered the room.

You were left there, blushing, amused, and bewildered. It was the first time anyone had said something direct yet affirming to you after a confrontation. You are used to your friends saying, ‘just let it go’, or ‘always choose to be the bigger person’.

Once composed, you followed inside, eyes watching Yoongi as he propped himself down on a chair, dusting off the desk.

Strangely, you couldn’t hear anything but your heart pounding loudly, louder than it had in a long time.

An awkward silence filled the room. The two of you are sitting two seats apart. It has only been fifteen minutes since you got here but Yoongi is already constantly checking the time on his phone which is bothering you a little bit.

Exhaustion is slowly overtaking your body. Your stomach hasn’t stopped growling from hunger since lunch, and your headache is beginning to torture you again.

You didn’t feel like talking, but Yoongi’s constant shifting and the repetitive glow of his phone screen is starting to irritate you.

“Time won’t go any faster even if you check your phone every three seconds, you know,” you said, finally breaking the silence.

“I know… I just need to get out of here. This stupid detention is a waste of time,” Yoongi muttered sharply.

“Oh.”

You’re not sure why his words sting when it’s not supposed to be. Maybe you’re just tired and hungry. Or maybe you didn’t like to think that being stuck in detention with you, annoys him so much.

“I have a part-time job after school, and I can’t be late. That’s all,” before your mind spirals from overthinking, Yoongi spoke, as if he knew your thoughts.

“Oh—You can leave now, Mr. Nagoya always leaves fifteen minutes before dismissal and he doesn’t really care if students complete their detention time.”

“How’d you know that?”

“I often stay late when we have work for Journalism, and our club is just right across from the guidance office. I often see students walk out of here once he drives out of the parking lot.”

Yoongi nods as if he just learned something crucial. He gathers his belongings and heads towards the door, expecting you to follow—but you didn’t move an inch.

“How ‘bout you?” he asks, pausing on his tracks.

“I’ll finish my time. Don’t worry—I won’t tell on you.” You offered him a weak smile, short but reassuring. “Besides, I still need to look for my glasses,” you added.

A flicker of worry blooms on his chest upon hearing your last words.

“D-don’t! I—I mean, you can look for them tomorrow. It’ll start getting dark soon, and there are usually guys hanging around there after school to smoke,” he mutters.

“Okay…”

You don’t have energy left to counter him, so you just bury your head onto the desk and close your eyes hoping your headache would subside.

That’s Yoongi’s cue to leave. So he does.

Exactly an hour later, you stepped out of the detention room. The hallways were nearly empty—only a few students remain, those attending after-hours clubs or studying in the library.

You strut carefully along the dimly lit hallway, debating whether to take the bus or walk home. You rarely walk, especially after school, but you’re worried you might miss your stop if you take the bus.

When you fully step out the school gate, you decide to walk home.

You’re almost halfway through your usual route when you notice a motorcycle slowing down beside you. Your heart starts pounding—not knowing what to do, but your expression remains calm.

You tried to walk a little faster, gripping your phone tightly. In your peripheral vision, the motorcycle starts matching your speed. So, you start to jog, almost sprinting.

Still, the motorcycle follows you.

“H-hey— Stop! Stop!”

You couldn’t make out the rider’s words clearly, but you’re sure he’s yelling something at you.

Your heart almost jumps out of your chest when a loud honk pierce the air. You involuntarily stop, frozen in place, as the motorcycle pulls up right beside you.

“Why’d you run?” the guy asks, removing his helmet.

Yoongi.

“I—I don’t know… I got scared!” you barks at him, heart still racing.

Yoongi let out a genuine chuckle, finding you endearing.

“Hop on,” he says, inching the motorcycle forward to give you enough space at the back.

“N-no!”

“Why?”

“Why would I?”

“It’s already dark, and you’re walking without your glasses. That’s dangerous.”

You hesitated, but he has a point. Before you could protest further, a spare helmet is being handed to you.

“Come on. I’ve got a delivery to make, and their chicken’s getting cold.”

Without much of a choice, you gave in. Flustered, you hop at the back while Yoongi reaches for your hand to help you fully climb on.

Once seated, you shift awkwardly, tugging your skirt down.

When Yoongi senses your discomfort, he briefly glances back to check on you but retracts his gaze as quick when he notices your skirt riding your thighs a little higher.

Your school uniform isn’t exactly made for riding a bike like this. With your legs positioned apart, the fabric is revealing much skin than it should have.

Without a word, Yoongi hands you his windbreaker, understanding its purpose, you accept—draping it over your thighs.

“Thanks,” you whisper softly.

It only took him five minutes to reach your house. Just like how he helps you get on, Yoongi reaches for your hand again to help you hop off his bike.

You handed him the helmet and his windbreaker. Without a certain reason, your face is flushed red—so red that even Yoongi had noticed.

It’s your first time to be taken home by a guy, and on a bike at that. Even without admitting it, you also couldn’t help but to notice how good looking Yoongi is, especially without the school uniform. You also think he looks cool when riding a bike, even if it’s just for delivery.

“Thank you for taking me home,” you murmur, looking at him.

“Yeah, don't mention it.”

“Alright. Be safe at work— I—I mean, be safe riding that thing.” the words slip out before you could even think of it.

You’re sure you are as red as tomato right now, wishing for the ground to swallow you.

Yoongi’s lips curl in amusement, he didn’t expect those words from you. For a second, he almost asks if you have motion sickness from the ride but he chose to be cockier.

“Sure, now where’s my goodbye kiss?” he teases, a cocky smirk written across his face.

Your eyes widens, unsure if you heard him correctly. You felt the blood rush to your head—nerves spiraling.

“W-what?” you stutter.

Yoongi bursts out laughing when he sees you completely flustered. He’s cackling so hard, enough to show his gums.

You’re fighting the urge to hit him with your backpack as you realize he’s messing with you. Without saying a word, you turn your heels and push the gate behind. But before you can fully get inside, Yoongi spoke again, this time without any hint of cheekiness.

“Sorry, we couldn’t find your glasses earlier. You look more pretty without them though.” His tone is calm and soft, completely catching you off guard.

You’re struggling to find your words, how would you respond to what he said anyways?

Before he left, you didn’t miss his warm thin smile as you stood there quietly. Flustered. Blushing. Heart pounding.

— chapter two.

The cold morning breeze welcomes you as you step off the bus. You lazily drag your feet from the bus stop toward the school grounds, body still exhausted from yesterday.

Even though you have no homework to finish, you barely slept. Your mind keeps replaying everything Yoongi said. His words outside the detention room, the way he told you to always let people know how you feel without being apologetic, and especially the way he called you pretty outside your house.

You had few admirers throughout high school. You’re aware that boys often say things to make a girl flustered. But for the first time, something had truly fluttered in your stomach. And Yoongi, hadn’t done much— hadn’t even tried.

As you’re walking to the direction of your school, you spotted Yoongi not too far ahead, about to cross the road. Your gaze quietly follows him as he turns his head left and right, checking for passing cars.

Yes, you can finally see clearly—thanks to the spare contact lenses you have at home.

When he crosses to your side of the road, you notice him stopping on the sidewalk and glance in your direction, as if waiting.

You panic internally. What should you do? Should you stop? Cross to the other side?

As composed as always, you show no signs of anxiousness. You keep walking, avoiding his gaze until you pass by him.

“Morning!” Yoongi chirps, prompting you to stop.

“Morning,” you reply with a tight smile, your face noticeably glowing.

His eyebrows raise, “I’m surprised you could see me.”

The two of you begin walking together, side by side.

“Yeah, I wore contact lenses today.”

“Suits you.”

“It’s colorless.” You snort, from his obvious playful remark.

Yoongi chuckles in response, he’s busted. Though, in your mind, you’re hoping for him to stop doing that—those quiet chuckles in his low, smooth voice because your stomach is twitching when you’re hearing it.

“Sooo, you already saw me crossing but didn’t even bother stopping when you walked past me?" he teases.

“I didn’t know I should.” your tone is flat, completely unbothered but your cheeks burning says otherwise and yes, Yoongi notices.

“I was waiting for you.”

Yes, like that. When he does something like that, your stomach starts fluttering.

“Well… I didn’t—notice,” you stammer.

Yoongi turns to you, comically looking at your face— face in disbelief. “Wooow, okay… I—”

“Yow, Yoongi! Who’s the chick?”

Your conversation is abruptly cut off by a group of guys hanging out just across the street near the school gate. Both your heads turn toward the shout.

Your demeanor shifts—stiff from the way you were referred to. You didn’t like it.

There’s about three of them, around your age, dressed in baggy clothes and beanies. Each has lit cigarettes tucked in between their fingers.

You swear you heard Yoongi curse under his breath as he parted ways with you. No words, no glance back, as if you’re not just talking to him ten seconds ago.

One of the guys whistle at you as you walk past them. But you’re smart in situations like this, you know the best thing to do is disengage. So, you didn’t stop, you didn’t look back. Though it feels like your heart will jump outside your chest at any given minute.

Ten minutes before the class starts, the seat behind you is still empty. Question’s racing in your mind like; who are those guys? Why aren’t they wearing school uniforms? Why are they hanging around your school— are they waiting for Yoongi? Are they his friends? Do they all smoke? Why did he act so strangely when those guys saw you together? Why he hadn’t introduced you—they asked who you were—

Your train of thoughts are interrupted when Yoongi enters the classroom. You didn’t realize you’re staring at the door while lost in your own thoughts. Your eyes meet his in flicker, then you look away. Stomach fluttering.

Thankfully, the teacher enters the room after him, saving the both of you from an awkward conversation after what happened at the gate earlier.

The day is passing quicker than it seems, class after class until it’s already lunch. As the bell rings, your classmates start disappearing one by one, your friends approach you to discuss what and where to eat.

Since this morning, you haven't spoken with Yoongi again. You never bother to look back nor initiate a conversation with him in between classes and neither did he. Things between you had returned to normal—or at least, to the point where the two of you just co-exist as classmates.

The cafeteria is more crowded than usual when you and your friends arrive, that leaves you to just buy your lunch and eat in the classroom instead. Your friend group sits in a circle at a corner of the classroom, chit chatting about random online trends, while you feel somehow restless—occupied by something you couldn’t even identify.

Before you fully disassociate, you hear a pebble subtly hit the window near from where you sit. You look up, then another pebble follows, hitting the glass with a light thud. You quietly approach the window, careful not to draw attention from your friends and slowly open the glass to peak.

Below, at the back of the building where you had been yesterday, you see Yoongi standing staring up at you and waving—gesturing for you to come down. You hold your palm out, telling him to wait and you leave your friends by themselves without saying a word.

Your stride is faster than usual, mind occupied with thoughts you couldn’t even piece together; all you know is the spark of excitement that’s growing on your chest.

Before you enter the secluded area at the back, you instinctively adjust your uniform and fix the non-existent messy hair on your forehead as if it matters.

As you walk in closer, Yoongi is so busy on his phone that you need to clear your throat to get his attention.

“Took you long enough,” he beams.

You playfully roll your eyes at him, as if you two are already close. “Our classroom’s on the third floor, hello?”

Yoongi chuckles and your stomach flutters once more.

“Here.” He extends his arm and on his palm lays your eyeglasses.

“You found it!” you gasp, reaching out for it.

Yoongi can’t help but smile seeing you get excited over his effort. He has no idea that finding your glasses could make you this happy and he finds it very endearing.

“I am ready to just forget about them! Where’d you find it?” you ask, clearly hyped.

He points to an area just a few feet away from where you’re standing.

“Thank you—seriously. I am considering wearing contacts for the rest of my life,” you chirp, smile never fading and eyes twinkling like crescents.

“Doubt that, you said you hated wearing them. Mhmm, it dries your eyes, right?”

Your eyes squint as you hear him, “But how’d you know that?”

“I heard you talking to Claire earlier,” he confesses.

“Nosy!”

“N-no!”

Yoongi’s eyes widen as he playfully place his hand on his chest—scandalized. You chuckle at the sight.

“Aren’t you going back now?” He tries to divert the conversation.

“Can I hang out for a bit? Classrooms can feel suffocating sometimes.”

For the first time, you dared to ask and you’re happy seeing him nod.

He truly didn’t mind, in fact, he likes having your company.

“Can I?” he pulls out a stick of cigarette and lighter out of his pocket, asking your permission to smoke.

“S-sure, but here?” your whisper, like someone might hear you.

Yoongi paused, confused. Then you continue, “I mean—what if we get caught again?”

“We can go to my secret spot—but only if you’re okay with it.”

Without a second thought, you nod—unsure of where he’ll take you but hell, you’re willing to follow him.

Yoongi leads the way, walking a few feet toward an area cluttered with more rotting desks and chairs, branches, twigs, and overgrown plants. The ground is uneven so you have no choice but to grab the back of his uniform for support, and when Yoongi feels your grip, he takes your hand, guiding you carefully.

As you pass the branches, a more secluded and quieter area greets both of you. Now you understand why he calls it his secret spot because there’s no way anyone would come here.

You watch him as he dust off the dried leaves cluttered on a concrete bench and offers you to sit. You do, as he lights his cigarette.

Without noticing it, you watch him carefully—noting the movement of his lips and the crease that forms on his forehead with each drag

“Stop staring, it’s rude” he teases.

“Ha! Don’t flatter yourself too much.” you huff in response, looking away.

Conversation flows naturally between the two of you as Yoongi finishes his stick. You ask him about the guys from earlier, that’s when he shared that he’s part of the underground rap community and the guys are his friends. He shares stories from rap battles he’d joined, and is generous enough to let you listen to a few of his self-produced songs, explaining ideas behind his lyrics as passionately as your calculus teacher discussing his lessons in class.

Every bit of this is new to you. You realize how your life is opposite from his—quiet, uneventful, spent reading books or studying. And it only fuels your curiosity to know him more.

“They went to tell me they listed our names for the upcoming rap battle in Suseong.”

“When?”

“This Friday night.”

“Can I come?” the question slips before you can even think. “Only if you want me to be there,” you added, voice turning softer and lower.

“Yes—yes, you can. Will your parents allow it?” he stammers, not really expecting your question.

“They’re not usually strict.”

“It’s at night—You sure?”

“Will you take me home after?” you ask him back, bold and direct. Where your courage comes from, you have no idea but you’re glad you dared to ask because Yoongi couldn’t hide the smile creeping across his face. He tries biting his inner cheek to not show it but it’s too late.

“Of course,” he replies, smiling like a fool.

“Okay, then I’ll come.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven, I guess.”

The two of you talk for a few more minutes until the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. You retrace your steps back, but this time Yoongi lets you first and as earlier, he holds your hand—guiding you.

“Don’t get so used to holding my hand,” you snicker at him in an attempt to joke.

He scoffs, crouches, and dust off your shoes from traces of dirt. You’re caught in surprise, a heat pooling in your cheeks follows as you don’t know what to do.

“You’re saying?” he pretends not to hear you, but a smirk painting his face.

Flustered, you refuse to respond. You turn and walk away and Yoongi swears you’re so cute when you’re blushing.

His laugh echoes behind as he tries to catch up while you feel like throwing up from all the butterflies in your stomach fluttering like crazy.

When you get to the classroom, the lecture is already starting. You softly knock on the door, catching everyone’s attention. The teacher’s eyebrow arches and about to scold the two of you for being late, but you immediately speaks in defense.

“We’re sorry for being late, ma’am. I needed to move some papers from our club to the library, and I asked Yoongi for help.”

Lies. For the first time, you lied to a teacher.

The teacher allows you to enter her class; walking back to his seat, Yoongi is amused, and slightly proud. Seeing you lie for the first time isn’t on his bingo card, you truly are full of surprises.

Just like earlier, the two of you don’t speak again until dismissal comes, just back from being regular classmates. Given that you lied to your teacher earlier about going to the library, you might as well drop by to return the references you used for your journalism project.

By the time you’re done returning everything, almost all of the students are gone. You’re almost at the school gate when you spotted Yoongi standing coolly with his hands tucked into his pocket and his bag hanging off one shoulder. He’s talking to someone—a girl. You recognize her as Minju, of course you do. She’s popular on campus because she’s cool and she’s pretty. She hangs out with cool kids who party and often so, get in trouble.

Coolcoolcool, not a big deal.

You walk past them without sparing a glance. A few seconds later, you notice a figure hovering on your side, trying to catch up— it’s Yoongi.

“I was waiting for you,” Yoongi says casually, tilting his head looking at your face.

A little startled, you look back. “W-why?” Your voice carries a hint of bitterness from seeing him talking to one of the pretty girls on campus, but a little flutter blooms in your heart knowing that he’s been waiting for you.

“Just because.”

Just because? What are you supposed to do with that information?

“Don’t you have a job tonight?”

“Mhm…” he nods. “I’ll walk you to the bus stop before I go.” he adds, smirking as if he’s proud of what he just said.

“Why?” you ask, again. This conversation is making you dizzy.

“No reason.” he just shrugs.

You do your best to stay calm and keep your expression almost blank, but the tinge of red on your cheeks betrays you—every single time. Your stomach is twisting, feeling something you can barely contain.

The rest of the walk is silent, but surprisingly, not awkward. As you reach the bus stop together, you look at Yoongi without saying a word, waiting for his next move so you can thank him for walking you to the bus stop. It’s the right response even if you don’t ask him to do it, right?

Yoongi seems to notice your lingering gaze, he looks back with a playful smirk plastered on his face.

“I’ll wait until you get on the bus. Yah, stop making it weird, Y/N” he said in between chuckles.

Those chuckles.

And weird? He’s the one making all these waiting and walking with you.

“You’re the weird one,” you can’t help the smile that curls on your lips when you lightly shove his shoulder, earning more chuckles from him.

You hop in as soon as the bus arrives. You wave goodbye to Yoongi, who’s watching you with a stupid smile across his face. He waits until the bus drives away before heading off to his work.

Meanwhile, once seated, you bury your face as red as a tomato in your palms and let out a soft squeal.

Damn it, Yoongi. What’s your play?

The next morning, you are surprised to see Yoongi sitting on the bench at the bus stop as you get off the bus. His head is leaning against the metal frame of the shed, eyes closed, earphones in.

You’re hesitating, debating whether to let him know your presence. What if he’s waiting for someone else? Or—whatever. You softly poke his shoulder and watch as he slowly opens his eyes, long lashes fluttering.

“Let’s go,” Yoongi says upon seeing you, standing up, slinging his backpack over one shoulder before starting to walk.

Without any word, you follow behind. Smile creeping on your face as you hope you’re the one he’s been waiting for.

At lunch, you find yourself hanging out with Yoongi at his secret spot again. You eat your sandwich you bought as he smokes a cigarette while scribbling rap lyrics on his little notebook. During dismissal, Yoongi walks with you again to the bus stop, waits until your bus arrives before heading out to his job.

The routine continues as the days go by. You barely talk inside the classroom, but like clockwork, the two of you are together in the morning, during lunch, and at dismissal—as if it’s something silently agreed upon.

Even without admitting it, you both genuinely enjoy each other’s company. You find yourself laughing and giggling more whenever you’re with him. And Yoongi, surprisingly, is very talkative and funny whenever he’s with you. In a short period of time, the two of you grow closer. You start sharing personal thoughts with Yoongi—things you usually don't tell anyone. Yoongi always listens attentively, engaging with you and sharing his own thoughts in return.

And just like that, the two of you found a new friend. Or so you think.

And Friday comes.

You and Yoongi are hanging out on your usual spot at the back of the school, sitting beside each other, sharing a pair of earphones that plays a piano melody Yoongi originally produced. These past few days, you somehow grew surprisingly comfortable around him—comfortable enough to sit close while he smokes.

The weirder part is, you find yourself drawn to the faint scent of smoke that slips from his lips. It’s as if the sensation makes you feel lightheaded, almost intoxicated.

Suddenly, you jolt awake, head dipping forward as you hadn’t realized you are drifting off to sleep. The soft music flowing through the earphones feels like a lullaby, cradling you.

Yoongi notices immediately. He turns to you and taps his shoulder lightly. “You can lean on me if you want,” he whispers, tucking the stray hair that’s brushing your face. Without hesitation, you rest your head against him.

Even though he’s the one who suggests it, Yoongi’s body goes very still as soon as you make contact. He catches the subtle floral scent of your hair—probably from your shampoo—and it makes his heart flutter. Slowly, gathering enough courage, he wraps an arm around your shoulders, letting you rest fully against his chest.

He doesn’t understand why his heart is pounding so hard, palms sweaty, and mouth’s getting dry like a loser. All he knows is that he doesn’t want the lunch period to end.

Before you get into the bus, Yoongi reminds you that he’ll pick you up at 7 p.m. in front of your house. Tonight, he’s competing in Suseong with his friends—the same friends you asked about a few days before.

Even without admitting it, the two of you are secretly looking forward to this day to come. It is your first time attending something like this, and it’s Yoongi’s first time competing with someone in the crowd who is actually there for him—someone who asks if she can come so she can watch him. It really does something to Yoongi’s stomach.

— chapter three.

At exactly 7 p.m., the gate of your residence swings open.

Yoongi straightens up.

He watches you walk toward him, his intent gaze that lingers doesn’t go unnoticed. He can’t help but notice how beautiful you look. Yoongi is in awe, he really does think that you’re already pretty in your school uniform—simple and without makeup. Tonight, he realizes that you can be much much prettier.

You’re wearing a black leather mini skirt that rests a few inches above your knees, fitted around your thighs. Black ankle boots give you a little extra height. A maroon sweater that’s tucked lightly on one side into your skirt. And your long, silky hair is softly curled, giving it gentle waves that frame your face perfectly. You’re wearing light makeup too, just enough to make your features stand out more.

You clear your throat, noticing that he's staring at you. It makes you wonder if you’re dressed inappropriately, well, you don’t know how to dress to begin with. You tried to do a little research, but your pinterest board suggests edgy, grungy looks that you can never pull off, so you decided to go with your usual style.

“Did you wait long?” you ask.

Yoongi shakes his head, still taking in the beautiful sight in front of him, unable to form words.

“Am I dressed wrong? I—I can change—”

“No, you’re perfect,” Flustered, he composes himself, biting the insides of his cheek as he realizes how embarrassing he looks while staring at you like a creep.

“Let’s go. We’ll take a cab,” he extended his hand at you.

You just stare at it for a moment, not knowing what to do. What should you do anyway? Hesitantly, you place your hand on his and the two of you stride toward the taxi bay.

“You have to stay beside me the whole time,” Yoongi says, his tone firm.

He knows by the way you look that you’ll attract attention tonight, of course, you will. He’s certain that you’re going to be the most beautiful girl there and he hates the thought of guys eyeing you out.

A lot of people are already at the venue when the two of you arrive. The place is packed with people around your age—some noticeably older, and a few who seem younger. This scene is all new to you. People are dressed up in the influence of hip-hop; a lot of girls are wearing more sexy and revealing clothes that makes you question yours.

As the two you get swallowed by the crowd, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes lingers heavily in the air. You noticed that some people are already buzzed and for the first time since becoming friends with Yoongi, you feel like you don’t belong.

Your grip on his hand becomes tighter as nerves swallow your confidence, Yoongi notices so he keeps glancing at your way, giving your hand a few squeezes as if telling you that it’s gonna be okay.

A group of people welcomes you both, and instantly you recognize them as the same people who waited for Yoongi outside your school. Your eyes darted to one of the guys who’s been eyeing you from head to toe, subtly biting his lips. Well, you’re not the only one who notices—Yoongi does too.

He lightly shoves the guy’s shoulder, his other hand travels to your hip as he pulls you closer.

“Yah, stop it, Namjoon,” he lightly warns.

“Chill, man! Nobody’s stealing your girl.” the guy, Namjoon, teases.

“What’s your name, pretty? I’m Hoseok.” says the other guy, offering his hand to you.

“Y/N…” you introduce yourself in return.

And so, you find yourself being introduced to the rest of the guys.

More people greet Yoongi from left and right. You lose count. They notice you too, and they gawk on you. Apparently, Yoongi is popular with the girls—he’s friendly to them, and cute, and quiet, and cool. So, you defeatedly accept their dirty stares once they catch Yoongi’s hands wrapped around your waist.

You don't really engage in conversation, but you exchange polite nods and small smiles. Yoongi can sense that you’re being extremely quiet, if he’s gonna be honest, he doesn’t have any idea how you would interact in situations like this, it’s his first time with you outside the school anyway. But still, he never forgets to check on you—glancing at your direction every now and then to check if you’re okay.

And you appreciate it, you don’t care how chaotic or wild the people around you are. You’re enjoying his company and you feel that he likes having you there too—and that’s all that matters.

As the event starts, things are becoming more interesting. You didn’t anticipate rap battles to be this fun and entertaining. There’s a lot of cursing and inappropriate words thrown around, but it’s still captivating. Another form of art that you’re learning to appreciate more.

Meanwhile, Yoongi keeps glancing at you every minute, checking if you’re enjoying it. He’s very aware that this is your first time experiencing something like this. A weight lifts from his chest each time he sees you smiling, laughing, and whispering side comments about what you’re witnessing. It’s a clear sign that you’re enjoying something he loves the most.

As Yoongi’s group turn approaches, he guides you to a corner near the stage. The rest of his friends follow. He approaches a small group hanging near the stage, and you recognize one of them—Minju, from school.

Minju turns, sees Yoongi, and excitedly throws herself into his arms for a hug. He is caught off-guard, hands leaving your waist to hug her back. You peer—watching everything carefully, face totally unreadable.

Yoongi introduces you to Minju and her friends, then asks them for a favor—to look after you. His instructions are clear— Minju needs to stay with you no matter what and don’t let other people approach you, especially guys. He’s telling her all the words as if you’re not there, as if you can’t hear how firm and protective his voice sounds.

Minju reassures him, though she looks intrigued. You can sense that she’s not entirely pleased by your presence but she made a promise to Yoongi, and she’s following through. She’s kind enough to make you feel somewhat welcome in her group, telling you to stand in front of her so she can be sure that no one will bother you.

“I didn’t know you go to events like this, Y/N. From what I heard around campus, you don’t seem like the type.” Minju comments, trying to start a conversation.

“It’s my first time.”

“Really? What made you come here?”

“Yoongi.”

Minju nods. “Is he your boyfriend or what?” she spat.

“Just classmates… f-friends,” you answer in almost a whisper, hesitating on the last word.

“Do you let him fuck you?”

Your head snaps toward her, eyes wide in shock and disbelief.

Minju bursts into laughter, lightly tapping your back. “I’m just kidding, Y/N. Loosen up a bit.”

You don’t respond. You don't know how to. “Let him fuck you?” that’s— that’s something.

You force an awkward smile, zero idea how to follow through on that. Luckily, the MC called everyone’s attention to the stage for the group category.

When it’s Yoongi’s group's turn to perform, you can’t see anything else but him. Your eyes are glued to him—watching everything carefully. The way he raps, his flow, the cadence of his voice. His hand gestures, his body language, his aura on the stage—the way he carries himself while performing. Your focus is solely on him absorbing every word, every bar he spits like he means it. You don’t even realize that you’re smiling the whole time.

He’s so cool.

It feels like you’re watching a completely different person. This isn’t the quiet classmate you know. His stage presence is remarkable, especially when he delivers his lines in a fast, continuous, steady pace, like every word is on fire.

As his performance ends, he casually glances in your direction while retreating to his corner of the stage. The crowd cheers, claps, and shouts—including you. And he loves it.

By the end of the event, Yoongi’s group wins, alongside other solo rappers competing in different categories.

When Yoongi walks off stage with the rest of the guys, he goes straight to you, pulling you into a hug. He’s smiling from ear to ear, clearly happy and proud of the win.

Though surprised, you hug him back without hesitation—softly whispers your congratulations into his ear.

“So, what do you think?” Yoongi asks, gums showing from smiling

“Whoever possessed you on stage earlier was so cool!” you exclaim, truly elated for him.

Yoongi chuckles at your reaction. He can see your eyes sparkling as you talk about his performance.

Walking out of the venue, Hoseok and Namjoon ask Yoongi if he’ll join them for drinks. Yoongi glances at you—he promised to take you home.

“I’ll take Y/N home first. Just text me the place,” he tells them.

As you’re about to turn in the opposite direction, Minju suddenly appears beside Yoongi. She clings to his arm and gives him puppy eyes.

“Yoongi-ah, make it quick, okay? I’ll wait for you.” she pouts.

You instinctively roll your eyes at her, thankfully no one else noticed. It’s very unlikely of you but still a mental note was made that you don’t like Minju.

You and Yoongi walk quietly toward the main street to get a cab. You keep turning to his side, wanting to say something. But how would you say it? You don’t know. Gosh, it’s freaking you out. You retreat, giving yourself time to build some courage. Then again, you turn your head toward his, hesitating.

“What is it?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

Okay, here we go.

“Uhmm—are you really hanging out with them after this?” He nods.

Breathe…

“Can I come with you?”

Yoongi stops walking, gosh he stops walking!

“Is it okay with your parents?” he asks.

“It’s only 11 p.m.,” you answer quickly, unrelated to his question.

“Right, but I’m not sure what time we’ll finish.”

“Right… never mind.”

You failed to hide the disappointment in your voice no matter how hard you tried. Turning your heels ahead, you’re about to continue walking but he catches your hand, stopping you from doing so.

“Hold on, Y/N… do you really want to go?” His eyes meet yours.

Slowly, you nod. “But only if you’re okay with it.” your voice sounds like a soft whisper he almost doesn’t catch.

“I’d love for you to be there. I’m just—”

“What?”

“Worried.”

“Why? You’re there with me.”

Yoongi does a really shitty job at hiding his grin after hearing what you’ve said. He presses his tongue on the roof of his mouth before showing his gummy smile.

“Let’s go. But I need you to stick by my side the whole night—the whole night.”

Once again, he takes your hand, slipping his fingers between yours like it’s nothing, like you’ve been doing it normally before. But still, you let him.

“Y’know, sometimes I’m not sure what I’m gonna do with you, Y/N…” he sighs, playfully.

A smile slips from your lips, biting into it. You know exactly what he means.

The place Namjoon had texted is a dive bar with private karaoke rooms. The two of you walk straight ahead to the room the group rented.

When the door opens, around ten to thirteen people are already inside. All faces are familiar—they all attended the event earlier. Namjoon and Hoseok look genuinely glad that you changed your mind and decided to join them. Minju, on the other hand, looks slightly unimpressed.

Both of you take your seats somewhere in the middle of the group—Yoongi makes sure that you’re seated beside another girl. And almost immediately, drinks are handed to you. Yoongi watches as you gulp the glass of soju bomb.

“I didn’t know you could drink… like that,” Yoongi whispers in your ear, the blasting karaoke music making normal conversation almost impossible.

“Ha! watch me,” you shoot back, giggling.

Yoongi raises his eyebrow, “Oh wow, okay—but don’t let me carry your drunkass home later.” he teases.

To your surprise, you enjoy every moment of the after-party. Blending in effortlessly, sharing drinks and conversations. Even participate whenever the group starts a drinking game, all while staying beside Yoongi.

This makes it easier for Yoongi to relax and enjoy the night without worrying too much. Just like he told you—You never leave his side. You interact freely with the girls, but whenever a guy tries to engage, you become reserved and timid. Which Yoongi truly appreciates, he makes a mental note— Y/N is such a good girl.

Every time you need to use the restroom, Yoongi escorts you and waits outside. Every time Yoongi steps out for a smoke, you go with him. As the night deepens, almost everyone is either buzzed or tipsy. You control your drinking—Yoongi makes sure of that. He’s taking a sip of every unfamiliar looking drink being handed to you before you could drink it, just to make sure it’s not something that can knock you out. And even though he has a high alcohol tolerance, he still drinks moderately so he can keep an eye on you.

You don’t even notice when it happened, but Minju is now suddenly sitting beside Yoongi. They’re talking about something you can’t quite hear over the noise. You watch as Minju leans closer to Yoongi to whisper something in his ear, and he laughs in return.

At some point, Yoongi’s arms are no longer around your shoulders and seems to forget that you’re even there. His full attention is now in Minju and you can’t help but feel a sting of jealousy.

All night, Yoongi’s attention has been focused on you and only you—until Minju starts acting drunk and openly flirts with him. Mind clouded with the unpleasant sight in front of you, you don’t even realize how many shots of soju you took down in the past ten minutes. Yoongi, who is still distracted by Minju, doesn't notice either.

Suddenly, the room erupts in loud cheers as a popular, sexy girl group song blasts through the speakers. Almost everyone stands up to dance, including Minju. At first, she sways her hips, twirling a strand of her hair. Then she grabs Yoongi’s hand, spins, and slowly lowers herself onto his lap.

The room explodes with teasing roars, all eyes are on Yoongi and Minju. Your eyes glances at Yoongi’s face but his reaction is unreadable.

That’s all you need to see, you need to breathe because everything feels too much for you right now. You take one last swig of a soju shot, before leaving. You force yourself to stand up, trying your best to keep your balance when the room starts blurring in your eyes.

Because you left in a hurry, you’re not able to see how Yoongi lightly shoved Minju out of his lap while shaking his hand out of her grip.

“Yah! Yah! Too much, that’s too much!” Yoongi protests playfully, trying to keep things light without offending Minju.

His hand instinctively reaches for your seat—but it’s empty. His neck snaps by how quick he looks at the unoccupied seat beside him. He quickly scans the room in panic and catches the door swinging shut.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Yoongi is on his feet in seconds. He strides quickly toward the restroom area and leans against the wall to wait for you. Maybe you just need to pee. He’s been waiting for a good few minutes but still no sign of you walking out the door. When he sees Bianca, one of Minju’s friends, exit the restroom, Yoongi stops her.

“Is Y/N inside?” he asks.

Bianca shakes her head, “There’s no one else in there but me.”

Yoongi curses under his breath, sobering up instantly.

He rushes outside and almost immediately finds you in the dimly lit narrow alley beside the bar, crouching against the wall hugging your knees.

“Y/N!” he calls, “I was looking for you, why’d you leave like that?” Yoongi’s voice comes out strong, almost yelling as he approaches you.

“I—I just needed some fresh air.” you reply, startled—standing up properly to meet his eyes.

“I told you to stay by my side!” Yoongi runs his hand over his face in exasperation.

He lets out a heavy sigh as he pulls out a cigarette and places it between his lips—unlit.

Well, him yelling at you. That’s new.

You don’t know what to say, or what to do. You can feel tears brimming in your eyes so you just look away. Yoongi notices the gloss in your eyes as light refracts on it and immediately, his expression softens.

He’s about to apologize for his reaction but you beat him to it.

“I’m sorry. You just seemed… occupied,” your voice cracks.

Yoongi steps closer. One hand presses against the wall beside your head, caging you in slightly. The distance between the two of you is dangerously close.

With his other hand, Yoongi gently cups your chin, turning your face to meet his eyes.

Your breath hitches.

“I wasn’t.” he says softly. “I’m sorry I yelled. I was just worried… and I’m sorry you had to see whatever that is in that room. I didn’t like it either but it was out of my control.”

“Can I ask you something?” your murmurs.

“Tell me,”

“What’s the deal between you and Minju?” you have no idea where the courage comes from—but it’s already been said. It’s now or never.

“Nothing. She’s nothing to me.” he answers almost immediately.

As if summoned by the tension, Minju suddenly appears beside you.

“There you are, Yoongi-ah. Can I borrow a lighter?” she pleads, completely ignoring you—and the fact that Yoongi is hovering very close at you.

Neither you nor Yoongi, answers her. His eyes remain locked on you—still in the same position—leaning over as his hands cages you against the wall.

Without breaking eye contact, Yoongi reaches into his pocket and pulls out his lighter. He’s about to hand it to Minju but you quickly snatch the unlit cigarette from between his lips with one hand and grab the lighter with the other.

Without hesitation, you put the cigarette between your lips and flick the lighter open.

Yoongi smirks, slowly licking his lower lip and nips on it. You never fail to amuse the man every single time.

Meanwhile, Minju watches the entire thing, scoffs, and walks away, rolling her eyes but neither of you pays her any attention.

You start inhaling the filter placed between your lips, the tip of the cigarette glows brighter as you do.

Then you cough aggressively, breaking the tension.

Yoongi chuckles and pat your back gently, soothing you from coughing fit. You lean closer, shoving your face against his chest as you laugh quietly at yourself.

Carefully, Yoongi takes the cigarette from your fingers and places it between his lips. He takes a slow drag and turns his head to the side, exhaling the smoke smoothly.

You watch him closely, studying how he does it.

Then you try again, taking the cigarette from him and placing it back on your lips.

“Easy…” Yoongi murmurs as you take a careful drag.

A sharp sensation scrapes the back of your throat. You feel the smoke settle inside before slowly exhaling it. Thin curls of smoke slip from your lips into the air, and a faint bitter aftertaste lingers in your mouth.

Yoongi’s gaze drops on your soft, plump lips— biting the inside of his cheek, fighting the urge to kiss you. He can tell from the way your body sways slightly, the softness of your voice, the gloss in your eyes, and the blush on your cheeks—you’re drunk. And he doesn’t want to take advantage of that.

You continue sharing the cigarette in silence until Yoongi takes the last drag. He drops the burnt stub to the ground and crushes it under his shoe.

“Let’s get you home. It’s past three already,” he says, guiding you away from the karaoke bar and into the quiet street.

It only takes a few minutes for the cab to arrive in your house since there’s no traffic. Both of you share the ride home in complete silence, resting your head on Yoongi’s shoulders while he observes everything around.

He guides you out of the cab, ready to say goodbye and wish you a goodnight but you decide to ask him a question that almost knocks the air out of his lungs.

“Do you wanna come inside?”

“No.” he quickly dismiss.

“My parents aren’t home.” you follow up, as if it will change his mind.

“Y/N—”

“Please?” you cut him off, take his hand and drag him inside.

Yoongi curses himself multiple times in his head as he lets you drag him through the door. He knows you’re drunk, and he’s very well aware that coming inside with you—knowing her parents aren’t home—is a bad idea. Especially, when he’s considering kissing you not long ago back in that alley. But how can he say no, when he can’t even fight the gravitational pull you have on him?

Silence welcomes the two of you as you enter the house. You let go of his hand and walk to the kitchen to drink a hefty amount of water. God, you’re so thirsty.

“I know what you’re thinking…” you start, still drinking.

Yoongi goes very still, anticipating your next words.

“You think I’m drunk, but I’m not. I mean—I was, but not anymore.” you continue, passing a water bottle to him.

Yoongi let out a sigh, he was scared for a second for unknown reason.

“No shit.” he scoffs.

You giggle in return, you have no idea what’s wrong with you at this very moment but you think Yoongi’s very very cute.

“Where are your parents?” he diverts the topic.

“They both have shifts at the hospital.” you reply, flopping on the couch.

“Are they doctors?” Yoongi sits beside you.

“Mm-hmm.”

“So you’re always alone at night?”

“For more than a year now, except on their days off, of course.”

“Aren’t they worried? Is your home even safe for you to be alone?” he frowns, genuinely concerned.

“Looks like it.” you shrug, standing up on your feet and walk to the staircase.

“You’re not coming?” you ask him.

“Where?”

“Upstairs… my bedroom.”

Yoongi closes his eyes, sucks in a deep breath and pauses to carefully pick out his words.

“That’s it, Y/N. I’m going home.” he stands and heads for the door.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? You don’t just invite anybody to your room, at night—especially when your parents aren’t home” he sighs.

“But you’re not just anybody.” you murmur, voice soft and intimate and Yoongi can feel every shift in the air.

“Not drunk, huh?” he tries to play it cool.

“I’m not drunk. I’m… comfortable.” you coos, closing the distance between your bodies.

“You shouldn’t be.” Yoongi almost stutter, his voice suddenly become a whisper.

“Why? Don’t you trust yourself?” you step closer, feeling his breath on your face as you caress his shoulder.

“No, Y/N. I don’t—I don’t trust myself, especially when you’re acting like this.” he admits.

Without a word, you tip on your toes to match Yoongi’s height and lean to press your lips to his. It’s a soft kiss that doesn’t linger, almost a smack. Still, Yoongi freezes. His brain seems to stop working for a moment, then he recovers. As you try to pull away, he grabs the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

This time it’s real, he’s kissing you deep and thorough. His lips devour yours while his tongue prods your mouth demanding an entrance. You can taste the mixture of alcohol and cigarette between your kisses and it’s making you more drunk.

Yoongi notices that you’re stiff, unsure of how to move your lips against his. He gently cups your jaw, thumb drawing circles on your cheeks.

“Relax,” he muttered on your lips.

He pulls back briefly to let you catch your breath, then kisses you again—slow, deliberate, deep, and passionate. He lightly nibbles your lower lip, making you whimper. Yoongi’s losing his mind.

Yoongi guides you on the couch without breaking the kiss, carefully laying you on your back. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, as he hovers over your body. His weight pressing down slightly on yours, and you moan softly by the sensation of your body heat.

His lips leave your mouth, tracing lines of wet kisses to your jaw, down to your neck as he lightly nibbles the soft skin there drawing desperate whimpers out of your mouth. He lingers there, romancing you gently and slowly—nipping and biting on your neck careful enough not to leave marks.

Your mind spinning is an understatement. You’ve never experienced anything like this—nothing even close. You lose all coherent thoughts at the way Yoongi is handling you right now. Absent-mindedly, you begin to move beneath him, grinding your lower body against his, taking advantage of the sweet friction caused by the fabric of your clothes.

Yoongi pauses, whispering low—almost guttural, “Y/N, stop—you’re driving me crazy,” he warns, but you keep grinding yourself pathetically beneath him.

His chest heaves as he watches you bite your lip and pull him back for another kiss. Yoongi places his hand firmly on your hips to stop you from rocking, but you never fail to surprise him every time. Taking his hand, you guide it to your chest, making him grope your breast in exchange for a stray moan slipping from your lips.

He slips his hands underneath your sweatshirt, palms meeting the soft weight of your breasts before gliding along your back, deftly unclasping your bra in one smooth motion. As if driven by urgency, Yoongi cups you fully, giving each a firm, lingering squeeze while his mouth trails down from your neck to your chest.

The fullness of your breasts catches him off guard—it’s more than he expected, striking against your frame in a way he can’t ignore. For a brief moment, his mind scrambles. How the hell did he not notice all this time?

He’s completely drawn in by you, by the way your body responds to him, a quiet smile tugging at his lips as his mouth laps at your nipples. His attention narrows, focused entirely on your breasts—lips and tongue working over the delicate skin, leaving faint marks in his wake.

“Oh, God—Yoongi…” you moan, breath catching as the sharp, delicious sting of him marking you sends shivers through your body.

The two of you jolted in surprise when Yoongi’s phone went off—the ringtone echoes through the quiet house. You abruptly sit up and fix your clothes, pushing Yoongi off you who fell on the floor.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket—it’s Namjoon calling, he answers.

You hear Namjoon asking where Yoongi is, only for him to reply he’s already at home, then drops the call before Namjoon can say another word.

Yoongi stands. “You okay?” he asks, and you nod.

“I’m going home now. For real,” he says firmly and starts walking toward the door.

“B-but—” you follow behind.

“Y/N, we’re not doing it right now. Whatever it is you’re thinking, it’s not gonna happen tonight.” he says, twisting the doorknob open.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.” you say, pouting.

“Still… go inside and lock the door. Make sure you lock it properly, okay?”

You just sigh in defeat, you know it’s already final since Yoongi is already outside your door. When he notice you still sulking, he takes your hand and gives them a light squeeze.

“Stop doing that, it’s not gonna work.” he teases.

“Good night. Get some rest, mhm?” he adds, still not getting any response from you but nods.

“Aren’t you gonna say something?”

“I guess good night then,” you reply with a pout. “And also, congratulations again on your win tonight.”

Your comment makes him chuckle, he thinks that you’re so cute right now.

“Y/N, I want you to know… you’re the best thing that happened to me tonight.” he says, looking directly into your eyes.

You’re blushing so hard as soon as his lips kisses your temple. Yoongi turns and exits through your gate, leaving you with your heart pounding against your chest.

— chapter four.

When Monday comes, you wish for the world to end or for the ground to completely swallow you alive just to avoid seeing Yoongi. You’re honestly considering dropping out of school and moving somewhere far, maybe overseas—somewhere where Yoongi can’t go. You just need to think of ways to justify it with your parents.

This whole weekend, you’ve been restless. The encounter you had with Yoongi in your living room has been constantly replaying in your mind. You’ve been smacking your head and pulling your hair for the past two days every time your mind reminds you of all the things you said and did to him. On a lighter note, you discover that alcohol gives you limitless courage and makes you a little unpredictable? Wilder? Than your usual self.

As you button your uniform blouse, your eyes drift to your exposed chest. Your index finger softly traces all the marks that Yoongi left. Some of them already faded into pale maroon with hints of purple and blue—compared to when you woke up Saturday morning, the bruises scattered across your breasts were dark purple and painful to touch.

At the back of your mind, you wish for it to happen again—or at least for something more to happen. You’ve been asking yourself in the last 48 hours what would’ve happened if Namjoon hadn’t called. You’re certain that you enjoy every bliss of the moments you shared, Yoongi does too, right? You wanna think of it that way, at least. Although, you have your eyes closed most of the time as the two of you make out, you have ears—you can hear the soft moans and grunts he made that night.

On your way to school, you decide to take a cab so you can get dropped off right in front of the school gate. You made up your mind, you can’t face Yoongi at the bus stop today, or at least not if he’s still waiting for you.

When you arrive at the classroom, Yoongi’s seat is still empty. You keep yourself busy while waiting for the first class to start, reviewing the lessons discussed last week—but your mind betrays you. Your eyes might be laser-focused on your notebook but your mind is being occupied by Yoongi.

Your body goes very still when you hear the chair behind your seat scrape against the floor, someone pulls it out to sit down. Gosh, you’re sweating cold.

“Y/N…” a very familiar voice calls—low, soft, unreadable.

Luckily, the teacher enters the room, prompting everyone to greet a good morning and focus on her. You pretend not to hear Yoongi calling for you, and don't look back as the class begins. He doesn’t try again either.

Since it’s Monday, the day is busier with new discussions and activities—back to back classes until it’s lunch time. You pretend to be busy with your notes and stay seated until most of your classmates have left, hoping Yoongi does too.

But you almost let out a shriek when Yoongi’s head suddenly pops up beside you.

“Why are you ignoring me?” he asks casually, then adds, “C’mon lets go, I’m hungry.”

“W-what?” is all you manage to say.

“I said, I'm hungry—and why are you ignoring me?” he repeats himself, you can almost hear his chuckles along his words.

“Go eat by yourself.” you turn your body slightly so you can face him, startled at how dangerously close your faces are.

Yoongi quirks his eyebrows, pouts his lips then leans his head against your shoulder.

“Yoongi, people are gonna talk…” you nervously whisper, head turning in different directions to see if your classmates can see the two of you but no one is around.

“I thought we were already past that.” he said, lifting his head to look at you with a cocky grin.

You look at him confused, then you watch as his gaze drops to your lips then to your… chest.

You smack his shoulder lightly, blushing and scandalized with his gesture because you understand what he means by that.

Yoongi’s laugh echoes through the empty classroom seeing how red your face is, he annoys you a little bit more before giving in and finally agrees to grab lunch with him.

The cafeteria is more crowded with students than usual. You can no longer find any available seat as you finish buying your food, forcing both of you to sneak into Yoongi’s secret spot—at the back of the school.

You wanted to say no with the idea of being alone with him in a private space but you tell yourself to calm down and act normal because you know it’s bound to happen soon. You can’t keep avoiding him forever.

“So…” Yoongi starts.

“What?” you sound defensive.

“Aren’t you gonna say something about why I didn’t see you get off the bus this morning? I was waiting for you.”

Right, you almost forget about that.

“Uhh—about that—my dad drove me and dropped me off by the gate” you lie. There’s no way you’ll let him know that you meant to avoid him because of what happened last time.

Yoongi nods.

“I was thinking of dropping by your house earlier… you know, to see if you were sick or something,” he says as he eats his kimbap.

Oh? Oh!

“What’s stopping you?” you snicker.

“I texted Minju to check if you were already in school.”

You roll your eyes at the mention of Minju, making him chuckle.

“Still jealous of her? Don’t be.”

“I’m not!”

“Sure.”

“What’s your relationship, anyway?” you ask, pushing.

“I told you—nothing. We’re nothing. I’m not gonna lie to you, Y/N.” Yoongi turns to you, and you can tell that he means what he said.

“You seem close.”

“She’s like that with everyone.”

“Sure,” you can’t help but to roll your eyes again.

Yoongi scoots closer, “She’s Namjoon’s ex. Long-term. She just kind of became part of the circle, and that didn’t change even after they broke up.”

You stare at him, weighing whether to believe his words but he seems sincere enough, so you eventually let the topic go. Then an awkward silence settles between the two of you.

“Yoongi, can we talk about it?” you mutter, breaking the thick air.

Yoongi nods, silently urging you to continue.

Breathe…

You turn your body toward him, pausing to take a deep breath before you continue.

“Okay, here we go, hoo! first of all, I’m so sorry. I’m not usually like that, I swear. I had too much to drink, even though I was still aware of my surroundings. I don’t know where all that courage came from—to act like that and say those things. You must be thinking I—”

“Do you regret it?” he cuts you off.

“N-no? I mean, no. I don’t.” you stutter, as you don’t expect him to ask you that.

“Good. Because I don’t either. And I don’t think of you as whatever it is you’re thinking. I know you’re not like that.” he coos, taking your hands, his thumb brushing over your palms.

You let him, eyes fixed on your fingers intertwining. You don’t know how to respond to that, all you know is that you're happy with his answer.

Realizing you don’t have anything else to say, he gently pulls you into a hug. Your face nestles into his neck, comfort washing all your worries and embarrassment. And just like that, the awkwardness between you disappears.

You shift your weight a little to get more comfortable, chest pressing a little too hard against him causing you to wince from the sensitivity of the marks he left when it brushes over the rough fabric of your uniform.

Yoongi notices, “Does it still hurt? Sorry—I got carried away. I left a lot.” he says, his tone slightly cocky, almost proud.

“Hurts… but it’s fading already though—I kinda like the way it looks on me.” you mumble against his neck, lips brushing against his skin as you speak.

When you don’t hear anything from him, you tilt your head up so you can see his face only to find out that he’s smiling from ear to ear. Then his eyes drop to your lips.

“Don’t you dare kiss me.” you tease, eyes squinting at him.

“Do you know how much I was restraining myself that night? Good thing Namjoon called.” he pulls your body closer.

“Yeah… I was hoping he didn’t. You should put it in silence next time” you counter, not done teasing the guy who can’t help but grin like a fool.

Yoongi exhales sharply after hearing you. “God, Y/N… you need to stop saying things like that.”

As usual, you and Yoongi are back to your routine. Yoongi walks you to the bus stop and waits until you get on the bus during dismissal, and in the morning, he waits for you to get off; then walk to school together. During lunch, the two of you gave up on hanging out at the crowded cafeteria, instead, you choose to spend it together at your usual secret spot.

Day by day, you learn new things about each other—family dynamics, hobbies, interests, likes, and dislikes. Surprisingly, in a short period of time, your relationship grows much closer, to the point where hugging, holding hands, and snuggling no longer feel weird. The thing is, you only choose to do it when no one is around.

You also learn how to smoke. You’ve been sharing Yoongi’s cigarette every time you’re together for a few weeks now. Meanwhile, Yoongi becomes a much brighter person compared to his usual quiet, introverted, and always serious self. The two of you hang out every day without fail, and if someone will look at the two of you from a distance, they'll say you’re a couple—but that’s one thing that the two of you refuse to talk about.

Not really refusing, but it doesn’t come out naturally. And neither you or Yoongi has enough guts to bring it up in the thick of the moment. Considering that giving your relationship a label does not really affect your closeness, both of you choose to set it aside without actually talking about it.

“By the way, I’m staying late today. I need to sort out the books we’ll use as references for next month’s issue.” you tell Yoongi while playing with his hair as he rests his head on your lap.

“How late?” he asks without opening his eyes.

“Not sure. Maybe an hour or more, depending on if I can finish early.”

“I’ll wait for you—it’s Friday. I don’t work on Fridays, remember?”

“Right. You can help me, then,” you agrees with a grin.

“No problem, as long as I get a kiss.” Yoongi counters.

You flick his forehead.

“Ouch! What’s that for?” he hisses, eyebrows knitting.

“You’re always asking for a kiss.” you roll your eyes.

“Hey,” Yoongi props himself up to sit.

“You make it sound like I’m a pervert or something,” he continues, hiding a smile while trying to look offended.

“Are you not?” you raise your eyebrow at him.

“Yah! Yah! The last time I kissed you was at your house. That was the first and last.” he’s flustered.

“Besides… I always ask, but you always say no.” he adds, now pouting.

You burst out laughing from his reaction. One of your favorite things to do recently is tease Yoongi because he’s so cute when he’s flustered.

When class ends, You and Yoongi go straight to the library. Some students who frequent the place are surprised to see you—a student with a very clean slate—hanging out with someone well, like Yoongi. The nerds find your dynamic intriguing, but no one dares to say anything.

As you sort through piles of books and references, Yoongi notices that you keep shifting, looking uncomfortable, and touching your lower abdomen from time to time.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, and you nod.

A few minutes pass. You continue squirming, rubbing your lower abdomen and occasionally lightly punching your hips. When Yoongi looks at you, he sees your face contorted in pain.

“I swear, if you don’t tell me what’s happening to you, I’m going to carry you out of here to the clinic.” Yoongi says in warning, careful not to be loud in the library.

You look at him and scoff, “I’m fine. It’s just cramps from a stupid period.”

“O-oh… do you need something?” he asks, you notice how flustered he is.

“No. Let’s just finish this. My back already hurts. I need my bed right now.”

Yoongi works double time, finishing all the books on his side and volunteers to help you with the rest. He’s focused, determined to finish quickly, thinking about how uncomfortable you must be from your cramps right now.

Once you’re done, he insists on carrying your backpack as you walk to the bus stop.

“I have cramps, but I’m not disabled, Yoongi,” you joked, nudging him lightly.

Yoongi doesn’t flinch. “I’ll carry you if you let me,” he’s serious and you burst out laughing.

You ask him if he wants to come over since he doesn’t have a shift at work tonight. Yoongi refuses at first, but you insist that you want to have dinner with him. Reluctant, he agrees, steeling himself to fight every urge that might flare up once he gets alone with you. After all, he cannot bring himself to dismiss you especially if you’re asking nicely.

During the ride home, you become quiet—well, your cramps is the main reason. Yoongi keeps glancing at you, seeing your exhausted look. Gently, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, letting your head rest against his chest. His fingers brushes your arms lulling you to sleep.

As the two of you get off the bus, he asks if there’s anything you need to buy for dinner. You smirk and suggest a beer, leaving Yoongi glaring at you and making you giggle.

Entering your house, Yoongi tenses. Memories of your last encounter alone in this space rush back, stirring feelings he tries to ignore. He scolds himself silently. Being with you alone is already hard—he doesn’t need these flashbacks to make it harder.

You begin preparing dinner. Your mom always cooks your meals before going to work, so all you need to do is reheat everything. As you eat, you talk, laugh, and banter with each other. You suggest watching a movie afterward, and Yoongi agrees.

Yoongi offers to wash the dishes, but you dismiss him, so he ends up sitting at the bottom of the staircase, watching you tend to the plates.

“Do you want to take a shower?” you ask.

“You’re unbelievable,” Yoongi snickers.

You eye him. “Gross! Not—not together!” You throw the towelette you’re using at his face.

“You have to be careful with your words, Y/N—considering… what happened last time.”

“It’s just your dirty mind.”

“I’m just saying. Namjoon has no reason to call me tonight,” he replies, teasing.

“I’m on my period, Yoongi,” you counter, giggling.

“And I’m not afraid of a little blood.”

“Ew! Gross!” You spray water at him. He shrieks and protests, and both of you burst into laughter.

After your playful skirmish in the kitchen, you lead Yoongi to your room upstairs. Hesitant, he follows, knowing that he agrees on watching a movie with you afterward. You let him take a shower first while you tidy your space. You even offered him your dad’s t-shirt since your clothes won’t fit him. Luckily, he has spare clothes in his bag he’s bringing with him in case his friends invite him to play basketball.

He emerges from your bathroom wearing a white oversized shirt and red jersey shorts, drying his hair with a towel. “Your turn” he calls.

While you shower, Yoongi buries himself in his phone, typing long messages. He doesn’t even notice when you’re done because of how occupied he is. You pace the room as you do your skincare, still, Yoongi’s focus is on his phone. He only looks up when you start drying your hair, the sound of the hairdryer seems to catch his attention.

Yoongi’s eyes roam over your body, gulping nothing but his own saliva. You’re wearing a black tank top with thin straps, paired with a black biker shorts hugging your waist, accentuating your ass, and barely covering your thighs. He shifts uncomfortably, the way you look tonight is doing numbers at him, that’s for sure.

He pretends to browse movies on the TV as you hop onto the bed. He ended up choosing a popular newly released romcom that’s streaming on Netflix while you tuck yourself under the comforter, hugging a pillow, back against the headboard.

Yoongi sits at the far edge of the bed, keeping distance, eyes fixed on the screen. You call him over, but he doesn’t move an inch leaving you pouting and confused.

After a few minutes, you ask him again only to be dismissed. Now you’re wondering why he seems different. He agreed to watch a movie with you after dinner and he was fine before you showered. Could it be the messages on his phone? He looks very focused and serious while he’s texting earlier, it makes you wonder what it is about.

The movie is halfway finished but Yoongi still keeps his distance from you. Neither of you even dared to start a conversation, you can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt.

You crawl on the bed and settle beside him, keeping a respectable distance.

“Sorry… I shouldn’t have imposed. I should’ve realized this isn’t how you want to spend your Friday nights.” you sigh, voice tinged with embarrassment and sadness but sincere.

Yoongi catches your eyes but you look away.

“Let’s go. I’ll close the gate after you” you add, standing up.

He catches your hand, stopping you from walking away.

“Y/N, it’s not like that—”

“You know I won’t get mad if you tell me you didn’t want to stay over after dinner, right?”

“It’s not—”

“I mean, you could’ve just told me that watching a movie is a lame idea on a Friday night, instead of letting me find out through your actions.”

“Are you done?” Yoongi cuts you off with his firm tone, cupping your face so you could meet his eyes.

You nod, way too surprised.

“I wanted to be here. Trust me. I wanted to watch this movie with you. I’m just afraid to stay close… because I might not be able to control myself.”

“Then don’t…” you reply above whisper.

“Jesus—Y/N.”

Yoongi doesn’t waste any time. He cups your chin and tilts it slightly to the side, angling your face before claiming your lips—hungry, intense, desperate, and longing. You wince a little when Yoongi bites your lip a little too aggressively.

His hands roam all over your body—your back, your hips, your ass. Unlike the first time, you seem to know what to do and you’re doing it confidently. You match the pace and energy Yoongi gives between kisses. Like him, you are craving, hungry, and eager. Your hand rests on his hips, tracing the band of his jersey shorts.

He gently pushes you down onto the bed, then hovers over your body, both hands supporting himself so his weight doesn’t fully press onto you. Yoongi looks at you studying your face. He brushes the hair out of your face and tuck it behind your ear. Then his fingers stroke your lips.

“Y/N… we’re still not doing it today, okay?” he whispers.

You’re confused. You sit up from the bed, pushing Yoongi just enough to get him off you. You sigh in exasperation and run your hands through your hair, searching for the right words to express how you feel.

“Why—why are you always hesitating when it comes to me?” you ask, stomach twisting anticipating his answer.

“I’m not. I just want to do it right—when you’re ready.”

You are about to protest and tell him you’re ready, but your attention drifts to his phone at the edge of the bed. It has been lighting up every minute, indicating that someone is sending messages. What completely distracts you, though, is the sender ID—it’s Minju.

You compose yourself, careful not to show the growing pool of jealousy in your chest. You suggest to finish the romcom that’s still playing in the background, but to your surprise, Yoongi kisses your forehead and says he needs to go elsewhere for an emergency.

And just like that, your mind is quickly flooded with thoughts that his ‘emergency’ has something to do with Minju, but you try your best not to say anything. It dawns on you that you have no control over him—you’re not in a position to ask questions, and he doesn’t owe you any explanations.

You walk him outside, but before he can even pass the steel gate, someone calls his phone. Although it's silent, your eyes quickly catch Minju’s name on the caller ID. Yoongi gives you a quick hug and kisses your temple, bidding goodbye before closing the gate after him. You don’t even get the chance to say a word because of how much he’s in a hurry. He doesn’t even seem to notice.

As the gate closes in front of you, Yoongi answers the call, and you hear him say, “You’re always so impatient—wait for me, I’m coming.”

It feels like something stabs you in the chest. You can’t ignore the searing pain from knowing that Yoongi is going to meet with Minju after being with you, and he seemingly can’t wait to get to her given how much he is in a rush. You’re not sure where this feeling is coming from. In your mind, Yoongi knows how you feel when it comes to Minju, but he doesn’t seem to care because if he does, he knows better to distance himself from that girl. But then you reminded yourself that you’re nothing to Yoongi either.

Just friends.

You spend the rest of the night crying over Yoongi. You’re not usually the type to get dramatic over things, but this time is different—maybe because your hormones are shifting during menstrual week. Or maybe because you know he’s hiding something from you, like what he’s doing with Minju right now, or why he can’t seem to avoid her.

But most importantly, you keep asking yourself why you feel this way about him. You don’t have a relationship—you’re not his girlfriend, after all. So you don’t get to expect that he’ll care with your feelings that much.

And that’s when you realize that what you have with Yoongi is something very dangerous. You realize that you’ve been gambling way too much, risking everything for something that isn’t really yours.

— chapter five.

Yoongi has been noticing that you’re not your usual perky self and you haven’t been talking much these past few days either. He wants to ask you what’s going on, but you look just fine—just a little toned down—so he chooses to shrug it off, thinking maybe it’s just the effect of your period.

The class is filled with buzzing students, excitement spilling over as the teacher gives reminders about the off-campus retreat tomorrow. The school organizes this trip every year, but senior students are especially encouraged to join. Everyone is eager, full of hope to create precious memories with their friends.

You turn around to look at Yoongi, “Are you excited?” you ask.

“A little, mhmm.” he answers, nodding.

“Come on, Yoongi! It’s going to be fun. I heard they don’t separate the girls and boys for senior students—you know, to force interactions before graduation.”

“And you also know that I only joined because of you.” he counters.

“By the way, Ms. Hong needs us to stay later after school. I think she needs something for the school paper. Don’t wait up—you’re going to be late for work.”

“I can pick you up once you’re done. Just text me, and don’t you dare walk to the bus stop by yourself,” Yoongi says as he gently brushes the strands of hair scattered across your face.

“I hope your boss doesn’t mind me riding their delivery bike.” you tease.

You and your clubmates are busy discussing last-minute changes Ms. Hong wants for the school paper. She informs everyone so all of you can work on it over the weekend after the retreat. Opinions are thrown left and right across the table—each individual can’t seem to decide which concept is better. In the middle of the discussion, you feel the need to use the restroom and politely excuse yourself.

When you step out of the room, you notice that all the students are gone, and the hallway leading to the floor’s restroom is already dark. So, you take a detour to the floor below and use the restroom in the teachers’ lounge instead. Students are prohibited from using it, but you can’t hold it any longer. Besides, the cleaning staff usually tidy it last, considering some teachers stay late—though you're sure everybody has left already.

You quietly enter the lounge. A comfortable couch welcomes you at the entrance, followed by a small coffee and snack nook that you pass through. You push the restroom door open—and at the same time, a cubicle door swings open.

You catch the reflection in the mirror and see Minju. You’re slightly startled to see her looking so tense as she returns your gaze through the mirror. Then another figure steps out of the same cubicle.

Yoongi.

Your body goes beyond still. The world seems to stop moving, and your mind completely goes blank as you meet his eyes. Yoongi looks like he’s seen a ghost—his face turns pale, completely frozen in place. Minju, on the other hand, walks to the sink, briefly washes her hands, and leaves without saying a word.

Neither you nor Yoongi speak, you don’t know what to say to begin with. This—this is something your brain can’t seem to comprehend.

But still, you decide to break the silence first.

“I—I think you should get out. This is the women’s restroom.” your voice trembles.

“Y/N, let me explain.”

“What for? I’m not asking for an explanation—I’m asking you to leave.”

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“It’s not, or it is—I don’t care. I wasn’t born yesterday, Yoongi.”

“I can explain.”

“Okay… go ahead.”

A long, painful silence stretches between the two of you. Yoongi can’t seem to find his words. The longer he stays quiet, the tighter your chest feels. You’re so hurt by what you've seen, and it feels like something is stabbing you over and over again while he just stands there, unable to explain himself. Until it dawns on you—this is it. There is no explanation, no matter how much he denies it—It is exactly what you saw.

“Just leave, Yoongi. Please.” your voice breaks, tears begin to stream down your cheeks.

Yoongi can’t bear to see you cry, but he also can’t bring himself to explain what happened in that cubicle. He doesn’t even know if he should tell you, would you believe him? He reaches for your hands, but you yank them away, telling him to stop, stop—just stop.

Yoongi knows it all too well, that once he walks out that door, everything between you and him will be over—and he can’t bear the thought.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” he says, his voice pleading.

“You’re only sorry because you got caught.”

“N-no, I swear to God, Y/N. It’s not what you think.”

You look him straight in the eyes, vision is blurred with tears that won’t stop falling, but still your gaze is filled with pain, anger, and disgust.

“It’s not what it looks like? Damn it, you can’t even explain yourself, Yoongi. You were caught in a lie, and you’re still lying. Fuck your explanations! We don’t even have a relationship to begin with, so why bother lying?”

Your voice rises—you’re yelling and you don’t care. More tears fall as your body begins to shake from frustration and anger. Yoongi tries once more to pull you into a hug, but you're quick to pull away from his grip.

“I was doing fine before you started approaching me! I was fine by myself before you started waiting for me at the bus stop, walking with me, having lunch with me! Were you that bored at school and just chose me as your target?”

“Y/N, no—”

“Am I just a distraction? A past time? Someone you can just toy with? Did you really enjoy hanging out with me? Do you tell your friends how stupid and naive I was to let you kiss me? Touch me? I didn’t do anything wrong to you, Yoongi! I was fine by myself—of all people, why did it have to be me?”

This time, you’re sobbing uncontrollably. Your frail voice echoes through the restroom as you lean against the wall for support. The sight brings Yoongi so much pain, yet he still doesn’t have the courage to tell you what really happened. He just stands there, watching you cry her heart out, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turn white. Then his eyes begin to water.

“Whatever game you’re playing, I don’t want to be part of it anymore, Yoongi. Please… just leave me alone. I’m begging you. I’m not cut out for this.”

Your last words sting, cutting through both of you as you storm out of the restroom, leaving him behind.

You walk back to the Journalism room, and almost instantly, everyone approaches you worried and concerned when they see you bawling your eyes out. But you don’t care anymore. You no longer care what they’ll think of you after this. It fucking hurts so much, and no one can ever invalidate that.

You cry for a long time while your friend, Claire tries her best to console you. You tell her everything—from the very beginning, when you first encountered Yoongi behind the school, the moments you shared at your house, up to what just happened in the teacher’s lounge—everything.

Whether you admit it or not, you’re not just hurt because Yoongi was screwing Minju while he plays catching feelings with you. You’re also hurt because everything between you and Yoongi is over now, you can’t take it back. And deep down, you realize that if Yoongi had managed to explain himself—no matter how absurd it sounded—you would've accepted it.

You know, you will.

꣑ৎ author's note. part two will be posted soon! you can check the masterlist here for updates. as usual, lemme know what u think („• ֊ •„)

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