#yoongi masterpost

You squinted when, all of the sudden, a bright white spotlight hit you straight in the face. 

“Jungkook,” You said as you stood in the middle of the stage of The Alley, covering your eyes, “something tells me you’re not great with the lights.” 

“Well, you’re not wrong.” He laughed from somewhere backstage. “You know, my skills are very limited. I play the drums, a little bit of guitar. I cook pretty decently, too. At least that’s what the ladies tell me. I’m not very specialized in this, though.” 

A second later, the entire place was bathed in red. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Great. That’s exactly what we needed,” you muttered—loud enough for him to hear.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said with a grin. “Everything would be a lot easier if Yoongi were here. He actually knows how to work the console.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

Right, Yoongi. That was the name you’d been hearing all week. Yoongi this, Yoongi that. “Yoongi knows this better than I do,” or “Yoongi knows where that thing is, he’ll tell you,” and yes, “You should probably ask Yoongi to help you with that.” At this point, you’d stopped wasting your time wondering why the hell he suddenly knew everything about The Alley better than anyone. Minnie had told you several times, though the answer wasn’t quite convincing: he was the lawyer; he had to.

That was the answer that lay on the surface, and it made sense. Especially with the party preparations, he knew which things you could get away with and which ones could get you in trouble. What you didn’t understand was why he needed to be around all. the. damn. time. 

Didn’t he have a job already?

You knew this wasn’t the only explanation, because there was no reason for Yoongi to know where the costumes from the play were stored, or the names of the students in Jungkook’s drumming classes. He was deeply involved; it went far beyond that. You just knew, but you couldn’t prove it yet.

You crossed your arms over your chest, letting the name fade in the air. “But Minnie told me you were the one who could get away with anything, aren’t you?” you told him “And you’re in charge of the console the night of the party.”

He hummed, smiling, almost too proud of himself. “And trust me, she’s right. I just need a hand and then I’m ready to go.” 

You walked over towards him, pausing when you were next to him. “Is he coming today, anyway?” You asked softly, trying not to sound too curious as your eyes fixed on the lighting board. 

“He better.” Jungkook snorted. “There’s a ton of stuff to do before the party.” 

“Don’t remind me.” You sighed. “I’m putting him to clean the floors if he’s late.” 

Jungkook let out a laugh, shaking his head as you watched him fiddling with the board, clearly guessing his way through it. 

A beat of silence passed until he finally spoke again.

“So… You and Yoongi, huh?” You heard him talk under his breath. He found your eyes, slightly raising his eyebrows with curiosity. 

“Me and Yoongi?” You repeat, titling your head. You caught something in his eyes, but you ignored it. 

“You two have known each other since you were kids, right?” he asked. 

You shifted your weight from foot to foot, lips pressing together.

“Yeah... maybe even before that,” you said, careful not to slide into memory lane. “He was already there when I was born.”

Jungkook gave a low whistle. “That’s a long time,” he murmured. “So... do you actually get along, or was that scene the other day in class just an everyday thing?”

You couldn’t help but smile, even though the memory made you cringe. You had hoped everyone would’ve forgotten about it by now, but it was clearly engraved in their minds. You could tell by the look Harriet gave you when Yoongi suddenly burst into the room and you had to keep your mouth shut, or when Yoongi approached to ask you something, all of a sudden, the kids exchanged knowing looks, like there was some kind of inside joke, like both of you were the inside joke.

No one went so far as to ask you about it, though—except Jungkook, who was trying a little too hard to sound nonchalant.

“So…” he continued, “you’ve always been close?”

 “Well, depends what you mean by close” You gave a small shrug. “He’s my brother’s best friend, I guess we were friends by default.”

“Funny, though.” He commented “You two argue like you know each other way better than just by default.”

You exchanged a brief glance with Jungkook, but it felt like you stood there for a solid five minutes.

You narrowed your eyes. What was he trying to say?

“That’s because he's annoying.” You tried to brush it off, walking back to the center of the stage as you checked the notebook in your hands. The list of things to do before the party was still very long, and even more than half of them needed the help of Yoongi, who still hadn’t shown up. “And he’s late.” 

It wasn’t until you saw Minnie last week, sick on her bed, surrounded by used tissues as she tried to hold back another sneeze, when you had to tell her she should step back from preparations for the halloween party. 

It was clear for everyone in the building that this wasn’t just another halloween party, the moment Minnie stepped foot on the place, people drowned her with questions: when did the second DJ set start? Were strobe lights allowed in the main hall? If we set a bar in the backyard, would we need a different permit? 

And yes, she had answers for everything. She was determined to do the most in record time. Ever since the last Alley meeting a few weeks ago, when Yoongi cautiously mentioned that if the fundraiser went well, they might just reach the emergency repair goal before the next council deadline, Minnie had clung to the idea like it was a lifeline, even if Yoongi had only framed it as a possibility. That, of course, until her body began to take its tool and left her sick on her bed. 

“You just need to rest,” you assured her, setting her third cup of tea for the day on the nightstand. It was cold outside, but not enough to leave Minnie this sick. You both knew it was something else.

“I can’t rest. I need to finish planning the party,” she insisted, scrolling on her phone and frantically texting everyone in her contact list to make sure everything was going according to plan.

You sighed and sat at the foot of her bed. “Who’s in line after you?” you asked, searching for a solution in your head.

“No one.” She scoffed and took a sip from the cup.

You shot her a look, silently begging her to make an effort.

Minnie shook her head. “Okay, maybe Sid, probably, but he’s out of town, so yeah, no one. I’m single-handedly keeping that place from falling apart.”

“There’s got to be someone,” you murmured, biting your nails without even noticing. “What about Jungkook? He knows his way around, I’ve seen it.”

“God, no,” she whined, rolling her eyes. “I mean, he does, he really does, but he’s not up to date on all the infrastructure issues. I need to be there for that.”

“But your body is literally asking you to stay in bed right now.”

Minnie sank into the pillows, looking like she was about to cry. “But I only trust myself.”

You shook your head with a short laugh. “You can’t only trust yourself, Minnie. C’mon, there’s really no one who knows all that stuff as well as you do?”

She opened her eyes wide and nodded. “Oh, there is.” She grabbed another tissue to wipe her nose. “Not sure you’re gonna like who it is.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. Of course it was Yoongi. “You’re not serious.”

“He’s our lawyer, he has to know everything. It’s his job.”

You didn’t argue with that, it was just facts. 

“But he can’t plan the party.” You assumed, and you were correct. The idea of Yoongi planning a Halloween party—or any kind of party—seemed almost too funny to picture.

“No, he couldn’t,” Minnie confirmed.

But you still weren’t out of ideas.

“What if you pair Yoongi and Jungkook?” you suggested. “Jungkook knows the place, Yoongi knows the legal stuff, they could make a good team.”

For the first time all day, you saw a smile cross Minnie’s face, though it was paired with a deep frown.

“I love Jungkook, sweetheart,” she said, voice fond. “But what gave you the impression that he knows a thing about organization?”

You laughed under your breath, knowing she was right. Jungkook wasn’t the right person to plan the party, he barely knew how to work the stage lights, but he was the last rational option you had left.

The room fell silent for a second.

Then again… there was the irrational option. 

And for a moment, you tried to stop it. You tried with all your will. But when you looked at your friend in bed, already on the edge of falling apart, the feeling only grew deeper. Before you could stop it, whatever bullshit you were thinking came out of your mouth almost too easily. Almost like you wanted it.

“What about me?” You suggested, locking eyes with her. 

Minnie blinked. Her brown eyes looking at you like you just stopped earth with your hands. 

She let out a choked laugh, full of disbelief.  “Are you kidding, or…?”

“I’m serious.” You said before you could regret it. “But only if you think I could pull it off, I mean, it’s such a big-”

“Fuck off.” She interrupted you, hopping off the pillows to kneel beside you. “Of course you could. Hell, better than me, I bet.”

You laughed, feeling your heart melt inside your chest. “I don’t think anyone can do it better than you.” 

“You can.” She said, putting her hands together as if she were begging. “It’s just a party, you can do it.”

“It’s not just a party…” You reminded her with a glance. 

She pursed her lips, nodding. “Okay, it is an important party.” She admitted. “But you’re the only one I’d trust with it. You and…” You could almost see the thought crossing her mind, making her suddenly stop talking. “You and Yoongi.” 

“Me and Yoongi are on a truce, remember?” You said, making emphasis on the word truce like it was some kind of joke. And it was, it made Minnie laugh every time you reminded her of it.

“So, are you telling me both of you could work on this as a team without breaking this truce of yours?”

To be honest, you weren’t quite sure. The whole truce thing worked fine when you only had to exchange a few words and stay in different rooms without actually seeing each other. You hadn’t tested it to its full limit yet—but you were willing to try. For your friend’s health, yes, but also for that buzzing feeling in your chest whenever you thought about the Halloween party.

“Of course.” You promised. “I’m a professional.”

And at the time, a week ago, you had meant it. 

You weren’t surprised to see Yoongi at The Alley anymore. You were used to it by now, even if at first it felt like you caught a glimpse of a ghost standing down the hallway when the lights were turned off. Now you were almost familiar with the ghost, but that didn’t mean you wanted him floating around in every corner of every room. 

You looked down to your notebook with the list of things you needed to do today. It turned out, Yoongi was needed for every single thing.

There, standing in the middle of the stage under the red lights, you saw him entering through the doors, his eyes locking with yours immediately.

All at once, the lights turned green. 

“Do you think the kids would like this?” Jungkook asked from backstage. “They’ve been asking me to play hyper pop.” 

Yoongi walked down the aisle in a straight line, stopping at the bottom of the stairs with his hands shoved into his pockets. Today, he wasn’t wearing his usual white shirt; instead, he had on a blue flannel over a simple black t-shirt, a black cap pulled low over his head.

“Jungkook, if a green neon light hit me right in the face at a club, I’d probably die on the spot,” He said, his eyes still holding your gaze. 

You snorted. “You, at the club?” You said. “Isn’t that past your bedtime?” 

“Good morning to you, too.” He climbed up the stairs towards you, leaving his backpack on the stage floor. 

“Good morning.” You forced a smile, trying to remember the fact that he was working for free and not that he was late. “Are you a lawyer today or an electrician?” 

“I can be whatever you want.” The corners of his mouth tugged upwards into a smirk, teasing. You guessed he was in a good mood today. 

“Great, I want you to be the guy who knows how to work the lights.” You pointed towards Jungkook, who looked relieved that Yoongi was finally here. 

Yoongi waved at him from his place, then looked back at you. “What do you mean by bedtime, by the way?” He leaned towards you, frowning. “I’ve been to clubs.” 

You blinked, a laugh already tugging at your lips. “For sure. Ten years ago, maybe. Besides, this is not a club.”

“Still counts, doesn’t it?”

“We’re testing the lights for the costume contest,” you shot back, shaking your head. “I think that’s very far from being a club.”

“Tsk. Right, that thing…” He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms above his chest. “So are you presenting the contest, huh?”

“Yeah, that’ll be my job.”

He nodded a few times, tapping one foot against the wooden floor. “And are you… wearing a costume?”

You turned to him, searching for some kind of encrypted message in his eyes, but there was none. It seemed to be just him, trying to make small talk. 

“Huh… yeah. Minnie said it’s mandatory.” You bit your bottom lip, playing with your fingers. “Are you…?

“I don’t know yet.” He said “But she also told me it was mandatory, and that she would kick me out if I don’t.” 

You smiled, picturing that in your mind. “That would be funny.” The room turned red again, making you close your eyes and sigh. “Can you help him?” 

“On it.” He nodded. “What color?”

“Whatever you want,” you said, watching him walk right past you. “Something that won’t make the costumes hard to see.”

Yoongi leaned over the lighting board, patting Jungkook’s back in greeting. In a matter of seconds, the reflectors turned pink, blue, and white, making you glance down at your hands and clothes to check if they were visible enough under the new lighting.

You looked up to them. “Do I look alright?”

Jungkook and Yoongi looked up from the board at the sound of your voice, finding you standing at the center of the stage.

Yoongi’s eyes fell on you, noticing how the pink lights caught in your eyes and glimmered on your dark clothes, as if the colors themselves were shining straight from you. Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat, gulping. 

You looked at your hands, smiling, and said something to them, but Yoongi couldn’t seem to hear anything. You looked pretty, he thought involuntarily.  You were wearing a black long sleeve shirt and a black mini skirt, paired with bright red tights and ballerina flats. Your long hair cascaded across your back, slightly curly at the ends, your eyes were wide and shiny under the lights. He could see your lips moving from across the room, but the sound was just a buzz in his ears, almost like the only thing he was able to do was take in the picture of you under the pink lights. 

A subtle frown made an appearance in your face. Yoongi quickly realized that you were expecting some kind of answer. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, but his gaze still found its way towards the pink halo that was drowning you. 

“Huh…?” Jungkook shook his head, looking as mesmerized as Yoongi. 

“Do I look alright?” You repeat, this time loud enough to make them hear you. “What are you looking at? Does it look bad?”

“No, no you look perfect!”

“That’s not- No, you look fine.”

Their voices clashed with each other, making it impossible for you to hear the words clearly. Your frown got deeper. He suddenly remembered where he was. 

“Okay…” you said, narrowing your eyes “Are you sure the costumes will look good?”

This time, Yoongi felt confident enough to answer. “Yeah, they will be visible.” 

“Right...” You ignored their reactions, letting your eyes fall on your notebook again. “Okay, I left a few instructions there for Jungkook. When you’re finished, meet me in the back.” 

Yoongi observed your body turn around almost like a dance move, swirling and making your skirt flow as you headed to the stairs to leave the scene. He could hear his heart beat on his throat, and for a second, he swore he could hear Jungkook’s heart too. 

He snapped out of the trance, looking at the younger man next to him following you with his big black eyes. Slightly annoyed, Yoongi snapped his fingers several times, bringing Jungkook out of his daydream. “Okay. Back to work, kid.”

Yoongi spent almost thirty minutes trying to teach Jungkook how to work the lights properly in the way he remembered Sid teaching him. Since he handled the permits and compliance with regulations, he made sure to learn the basics of things like this, especially if he was going to be present during future inspections or emergencies. At first there was no need for him to learn all that stuff, there were people who had spent years at The Alley and knew the place like the palm of their hands, but as the place grew more short-staffed and they couldn’t afford to call in help every time something broke, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to become familiar with a thing or two.

Jungkook and him worked together trying to follow the instructions you left, and when he was sure he got everything right, he went looking for you, following your vanilla scent backstage.

It had been a week since you took full charge of the party preparations, a week since he began working alongside you as Minnie requested. It was fine, he swore it was, but as he looked ahead and realized he still had another week before Halloween, he started to feel the collar of his shirt a bit tight.

Namjoon hung around last week and looked at him with a mocking smirk plastered on his face. He passed by and muttered shit in a low voice just to annoy him, saying he seemed to be handling it well, but Yoongi just rolled his eyes, because he was, at least for a bit. 

At first, Yoongi guessed it was the truce he so foolishly proposed, or the fact that you were too focused to give a damn about him, but the more time he spent with you, the more he realized that the reason why you were letting him so close was because you were happy. You had a smile on your face, you seemed excited, there was a glint in your face that he hadn’t seen in a while. Perhaps that was why you quickly got immersed in this weird dynamic where you pretended nothing ever happened, you had no time for that.

He stood beside you when you needed him, as you held the notebook in your hands and checked your bucket list for the party. He held his breath as he observed your black painted nails, the ring of your fingers, the way you wrote notes in angry red every time you didn’t like how something turned out, or when you loved it, there was no in between. He followed you around like a puppy, waiting for you to find him useful, waiting for you to get tired of him and tell him to piss the fuck off. 

You didn’t.

Yet.

It was like some strange force had taken over him since the night he saw you back home. He’d wished someone had warned him that you were going to be there, that way, he could have put his thoughts in order before seeing you again. But no one did, and when he walked into the room, he felt his heart drop to his stomach, for a moment his gaze blurred. Now his mind was all over the place.

You looked so different, yet the same. 

Your hair was shorter, it was still long but cut in this stylish way just like a movie star. You had lost your baby face, you wore bags under your eyes and a faint smile. You looked older, grown. It was a version of you that he didn’t get to meet, a version of you he missed out. 

Your voice was the same but you talked about different things, your eyes were the same but they didn’t look at him anymore. For a brief moment, Yoongi made peace with the fact that now you were a stranger, and still, he tried to meet your gaze all evening. 

You were so far away even if you were just right across the table. And he was fine with it, he had been fine with it for years. He had numbed the feeling, silenced it, buried it in someone’s backyard. He believed both of your paths were clear, that it was written somewhere, sealed in the sky and meant to happen just like this, and he stood by it for so long. 

He stood by it when he found you in the backyard of your house after you went out for some air. He stood by it when he saw you at The Alley, when you were teaching the kids in the middle of the stage, and when he picked you up from Minnie’s apartment to have dinner with his mom, watching you come down the stairs as the wind made your hair flow. But when you set foot in his house after four years and sat at the table next to Nari, he felt that familiar feeling in his stomach return. Only God knew how bad it was, and how bad it could get. 

Since then, Yoongi observed you like you were on a big screen, like he was far away and you were just a projection of his mind, just like you’ve been since you left. Were you on the stage, helping the kids with the script Harriet wrote and spinning around like a ballerina as you tried to help a girl to get a scene right. 

He watched your hair flow around in red tights as if you were the main character in a technicolor film, like you were inside the screen and could not notice the way he pay attention to your every move, to the way you moved and the way you talked, the way your legs moved around and danced and kneeled in the floor as you observed the play, the way you laughed and smiled like he hadn’t seen in so long. 

He didn’t have any right to watch you like that, not after breaking your heart like he did. He didn’t have the right to be around you, to look into your eyes, to even talk to you. He was well aware that he should be kept far away from you, as far as possible, but still, he physically couldn’t

“Are you gonna stand there staring or are you gonna help me?”

Suddenly, all his thoughts faded. 

You were still turned around, with two big boxes stacked on top of each other in your hands.

Yoongi cleared his throat when you spinned around, facing him. He was quick to run to you, taking the boxes off your hands and brushing his fingers with your hands in the process. You thanked him, grabbing two other boxes and walking towards the exit without a second glance. Yoongi figured you had to decorate the theater today, for which he was not needed at all, but since he was free today he figured he could help.

You set the boxes on one of the seats, opening the first one to reveal a bunch of Halloween decorations. The place was already decorated, of course, it has been since the beginning of October, but you explained to him that you needed to go ‘all in’ for the party. It needed to be professional level Halloween decorations, those were your words. 

“Is Namjoon coming today?” You asked him, pulling a bag of fake spiders out of the box. 

He inhaled sharply. 

“Why?” The word came out of his mouth before he could think twice. 

You raised your head to look at him, but he pretended not to notice, leaving the boxes on another seat. He didn’t mean to sound abrupt, but he did anyway. 

“He helped me with some cobwebs the other day.” You explained, resuming what you were doing. “Since he’s so tall and all.” 

Yoongi searched for a hint of amusement in your face, but he found none. Were you really this good at teasing him?

Why was he falling for it?

Standing there, frozen in his place, he must’ve looked like a complete idiot, he was sure. What was he supposed to answer?

Right, the truth. Even if he didn’t like it. 

“He’s coming later this afternoon.” He said, and he could’ve stopped the sentence right there, but no. He had to say something else. “But I can help with the cobwebs.”

You turned your whole body to face him, putting a hand on your hip as you thought about it. Something he couldn’t describe flashed in your eyes for the shortest of seconds. He could have sworn he saw the ghost of a smirk in your face. 

“Mmm, I don’t know.” You said softly. “We might need the stairs.” 

He bitterly scoffed. Right, you were teasing him. 

Not like before, that was probably impossible. You threw a snarky comment at him and then immediately drew an invisible line. Like it was already part of you to do so, but you had decided to stop it.  

Like the other night last week, when he found you in Minnie’s office with a frown on your face as you tried to figure out Photoshop. You were supposed to finish the final flyer for the party when he walked in, ready to say goodbye before finishing his day. 

“What are you doing?” He couldn’t help but ask. 

You were hunched over, with glasses on as you squinted at the computer, too focused to be annoyed at his presence. When you explained your situation, he dragged a chair next to you as he attempted to help you. 

Yoongi didn’t know why. The truth was that he had no idea how to work Photoshop either, his presence there wasn’t useful at all. But he acted faster than he could think, as he had been doing lately, leaning in closer than necessary to look at the screen.

“This is a clear sign that you’re getting old.” He murmured next to you, grabbing the mouse and clicking some stuff to try to get the font right. Needless to say, he wasn’t doing much better than you. 

“If I’m getting old, then what are you?” You murmured, crossing your arms above your chest and leaning back on the chair.

“You know you’re gonna be thirty soon, right?” He teased, still pretending he knew what he was doing. 

You laughed despite yourself. “I’ve got a few good years before that happens. I’m practically a teenager.” 

“You certainly act like one sometimes.” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching, his gaze flicking to yours for just a beat too long before he looked back at the screen.

You held an accusing finger towards him. “Watch it.”

He laughed under his breath. It was too dangerous, but every interaction, every word, every shared glance made him feel like he was floating on a cotton candy cloud. It was sweet and sticky and left him wanting more, but it faded too quickly on his tongue.

Then again, you always felt that way, so close but so far away. Always slipping through his fingers.  

When he looked at you, he saw your glasses slipping down the bridge of your nose and your hair messy, probably from how many times your hands had run through it. He had to stop himself from asking if you wanted him to walk you home. He had been stopping himself from doing many things lately. 

Just two days ago, he was reviewing The Alley’s permit documents and you were decorating the office as if it was as important as the party preparations. He felt his whole body temperature rising as if he had a fever. 

“Okay, so the fire exits are all marked, the lights are compliant… but the emergency ladder by the stage still hasn’t been inspected,” He murmured, crossing his arms above his chest. 

Yoongi heard you getting closer, but he only felt you when you peeked over his shoulders, eyes narrowing at the papers that were spread around like a battlefield. “That’s bad, I assume.” You said in a low voice, your breath close to his ear.

“Depends,” He said, feeling your shoulder brush with him as you stood beside him “If it’s not done by the council inspection, they could fine us, or worse.”

You leaned beside him, “You mean they could shut us down over a ladder?”

He nodded. “Wouldn’t be the first time something small turned into a disaster.”

“Perfect,” you said dryly, reaching for the pen in his hand without asking, your fingers brushing his.

His fingers twitched, his brain short-circuiting for half a second at the warmth of your touch. He didn’t mean to notice, didn’t mean to hold his breath, but he did.

“And what does ‘wiring compliance’ mean? Is that the lights, or the fog machine that almost killed Jungkook last week?”

Yoongi huffed, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Both. But mostly the fog machine.”

You let out a small groan. “You make it sound like this place is held together by tape.”

“Well…” he tried to joke, making you nudge his arm with your elbow.

You turned to him then, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. His eyes followed the movement before he could stop himself, your soft jaw, the curve of your neck, the faint glint of a thin gold chain just under your black t-shirt.

He was spiraling. His thoughts were faster than him, louder than him. 

He closed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. God, he had to focus. He couldn’t be acting like this around you, he couldn’t be acting like this ever.

“Yoongi…?” You titled your head, voice soft. “Are you okay?” 

No, he was not. 

His name rolling off your tongue with so much ease made his stomach churn. He could feel his face growing hot, his thoughts were all over the place. 

“Yeah, I just…” He sighed, “It’s just a headache.” 

This wasn’t normal behavior, no. This was psychosis. 

Or not. Perhaps he just needed to sleep. Or perhaps he needed to be kept away from you, just like he had been for the last four years. Perhaps he needed to go back to the life he’d been living — a life without you — where he came home from his boring job to his boring apartment, crawled into his too-big bed, and watched some boring show until he fell asleep, only to have a boring dream. Even his dreams were boring; it was like he didn’t allow himself to dream fully anymore. Maybe he never did. 

And he was tired. He had been for quite a while. He felt his heart beating a little quieter with each passing day as he tried to ignore it. 

But this life, the one he built with so much precision, was predictable. There were no surprises, no miscalculations, it was normal. He had his mom, he had Simon, he had Namjoon, he had Summer. 

Right, Summer. 

Summer, Summer, Summer. 

Summer, who deserved someone who didn’t stare at other girls for way too long, or someone who didn’t think of someone else every waking second. Someone who didn’t doubt every choice they’ve ever made when they crossed looks with another girl.

The worst part was that Yoongi knew you weren’t just another girl. You were the girl with horns on her head, looking at him with angel eyes — the only one who had ever driven a stake through his chest. The only one he ever loved. 

He wondered if Summer could feel it that day at the coffee shop. If she could sense it in the air, if she could hear his heart beating when he saw you across the room. It wasn’t right, none of it felt right.

Yoongi knew he was out of line, there was no need for anyone to remind him (Namjoon had already done it multiple times). But he insisted on it, tried to convince himself that was the life he chose, he was not going to regret it now. 

It was too late. 

There was a moment in time where a dangerous thought sneaked inside his mind every night. He would trade all of it if he could have you. That was exactly why he needed to leave you behind, even if it hurt in his bones, he had to let it go. He needed to. Even if he didn’t want to.

A few hours later, he tried to remind himself of it, but the universe thought otherwise. 

“How’s your brother, by the way?” Yoongi heard the low voice of his so-called friend asking.“I haven’t seen him in a while.”

 Kim Namjoon, or as Yoongi renamed him in his head, the traitor. Namjoon was the friend all the girls were always curious about. Yoongi had lost count how many times people had asked him if his friend was single, he had this charm that drove girls crazy. Yoongi never felt threatened about it, not until he decided to tease him with it every time you were in the room.

Yoongi observed you giving him a bright smile, climbing on the stairs and hanging up yet another cobweb beside him as he hung a big green sign on the wall. “He’s fine, working a lot as always.” You answered, clearly delighted at the sight of Namjoon’s skills. 

“He’s not coming to the party, I assume.” Namjoon laughed, showing off his dimples. 

“Oh, no. He’s too cool for that.” You laughed along with him, making Yoongi feel like someone just punched him in the stomach. “He bought a few tickets for the raffle, though. But I doubt he would be interested in any of the prices.”

“C’mon, wouldn’t he be interested in a tarot reading session?” His friend joked, and Yoongi would’ve laughed if it didn’t feel like he was flirting with you. He was already thinking the exact way he was going to punch Namjoon when he found him alone. 

You chuckled “He would roll his eyes at that.”

“Sounds like someone I know.” Yoongi said from the stairs, intruding in the conversation. 

The room went quiet for a moment. If it weren’t for the sixth Justin Bieber song playing in the background (Jungkook was testing the DJ set), it would’ve been completely silent.

One of the things that scared Yoongi the most about you, was the fact that you weren’t afraid to look him directly in the eyes, and right now you were piercing through his soul.

“Me?” You asked, playing nonchalant. “I like tarot.” 

“I know you like tarot.” He simply said “I meant the eye-rolling thing.”

You shot a quick look at Namjoon, who was smiling with his eyes. 

“I suppose you’re quite similar to your brother.” He said, trying to save the awkward moment.

“You think?” You sighed, going back to ignore Yoongi “I always thought we were so different. As different as people can be.”

“You are.” Namjoon confirmed, and Yoongi suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, what the fuck did he know? “From what I remember from high school he was, uh… something. And nothing like you, but somehow, similar.”

You snorted, probably knowing exactly what Namjoon meant. Simon was not just a player, he was the player. A complete menace. 

“My mom always said that.” You nodded, looking down at your notebook. “Like there are parts of him in me and parts of me in him. I don’t think I fully understood what she meant, though.”

Yoongi climbed down the stairs, standing in front of you yet far enough so his heart wouldn’t start beating too fast. He bent his knees just enough to look at you eye to eye.  “You have the same smile lines.” 

He, more than anyone, knew how similar you were to Simon. He knew both of you like the palm of his hand, you had the same laugh, and the same shape of eyes. Neither of you liked sea food and you pouted the same way when you were upset. There were huge differences, tough; you were way prettier than him, way funnier, and had way better taste in music and in movies.

Yoongi ignored it for years, but being around his friend reminded him constantly of you, not only because Simon always talked about you, but because he was an older version of you. 

But then, it clicked just a second after. That wasn’t something he was supposed to say out loud. 

There were no rules between the two of you beyond the truce, no agreement had been made of how to act around each other, besides trying not to kill yourselves when working together. And if they were, he had forgotten all of it.

It was ridiculous, he knew. It was laughable, he was sure you would laugh at him in another situation. He tried to set boundaries, yet the urge to break each one of them every time you looked at his direction was overwhelming. 

You blinked, startled, but he could tell you tried to hide it. 

“I…” You said, and it sounded like you were holding your breath. “I guess we look quite similar.” 

You stared at him for what it felt like hours, days, months, years, but it was not enough time to decipher what you were thinking. You looked at him as if you were trying to tell him something, a secret message, something only the two of you could understand, but he failed to understand. 

And as fast as it came, it left. You looked down at your feet, cleared your throat and tried to act as if nothing happened, as if your eyes didn’t burn through his soul, as if he didn’t fuck this up once again.

“Uh… I have to go.” You said. “I have to- I forgot something.” 

You turned around, walking towards the exit of the theater, leaving Yoongi with a hole in his chest. 

But it wasn’t your fault, no. It was his. It had always been. 

He stood there, staring at the exit as if he was waiting for you to come back. 

“Dude, you’re such an idiot.” He heard Namjoon talk, making him lose his train of thought. 

Yoongi rubbed his eyes, sighing. “Fuck you, I know.” 

Little did Yoongi know that was just the beginning of his downfall. 

For the rest of the week, Yoongi tried to escape from you. 

Or at least that was how it felt. 

He did his job, stood there when you needed him, but as soon as he was done, he disappeared. Maybe he was panicking, but he believed it was for the best, he no longer could allow himself to lose his mind every time you were around. He had to focus, and avoiding you seemed to be the most logical option, right?

He tried really hard, even if the universe seemed to be laughing at him.

It was like something was putting you in his way. On the hallways, on tiny closets, bumping in the kitchen when he was just trying to make himself a coffee. Brushing fingers when you handed him something, brushing shoulders when you walked past him. The other day you almost bumped foreheads with each other when you were trying to make your way towards the stage. 

But then again, he was reminded that he was the one who put himself in that place.

He only had himself to blame, he couldn’t hide the truth even if he wanted to. It was laid in front of everyone’s eyes. 

The Alley was one of the last places in this town that still held your essence. For the big hall, to the chairs of the theater and the room where he kissed you for the first time. The logical thing would be to stay away from it, to elongate his way home just to avoid passing by this street and never visit it again, but ever since that cold morning four years ago, he couldn’t seem to be kept away from it.

He was the one who offered legal help, the one who decided to be involved in every single detail, to come to help when he was not working, to let this place occupy his mind. 

He was a logical man, of logical thoughts and logical actions. But this was the only thing he couldn’t explain with rational thinking .Yoongi knew the answer was so simple, yet so painful.

Of course it was because of you. 

You. 

Even if you weren’t there, it was always you. 

“Yoongi.”

He raised his head towards the owner of the voice. 

You, again. 

He nodded in agreement, even though he didn’t have a clue what you were saying.

You laughed under your breath. “So?” 

Yoongi was sitting front row in the theater, counting the minutes to leave and take a nap. The Alley was showing Scream before the party, so that meant he had about two hours to sleep and prepare before showing up.

Minnie was finally back again, so that meant the day was a whirlwind of activity. She paraded around full of energy, filling every corner of the place with screams of excitement, anger, and joy. It made Yoongi miss you in charge, even if you were still strict and people were intimidated by you, you spoke softer, calmer. 

You were sitting on the edge of the stage, right in front of him, with your phone in your hands. Yoongi noticed that you were wearing purple glitter in your eyes today, he figured it had to do with the holiday, but what made him pay attention was the hint of amusement in your face… What did you just ask him?

“Sorry, I zoned out for a minute.” He said, shaking his head. “What were you saying?”

“Minnie is asking what are you wearing tonight.” You showed him the screen of your phone, shaking it in front of his face. 

“Uh…” He hesitated to reply, because maybe he should save the answer for himself. “I don’t know, I’ll figure something out with what I have.”

You shot him a glare. “She’s not going to be happy about that.”

“I’ll make her happy enough.” 

At least he learnt to keep his mouth shut. Or something like that.

He didn’t want to tell you that Summer had texted him this morning asking him the same question. She had been asking the same thing for days now, and each time she received the same answer, so she had decided to take the matter in her own hands.

Yoongi had no idea what that meant, but Summer told him not to worry about it and that she would handle it. It scared him a little.

You kept texting, probably informing Minnie about his situation. He could already hear the amount of insults he would receive if he didn’t show up in a costume, for a moment he prayed that Summer’s back up plan worked. 

He sank deeper in the chair, already tired. 

He should’ve been home by now, but for some reason he prolonged his time there, claiming that he wanted to help until the last minute in case something went wrong. 

And you should’ve been home, too. But you were there, enjoying the silence in his company like you had been doing every day for the past two weeks. And for some strange reason, it wasn’t weird. 

It wasn’t comfortable either, Yoongi knew this. But it was like you began acting in this automatic way where feelings weren’t allowed, he could tell. He wished he could do the same, but instead he found himself getting lost in his thoughts more often than he wished. 

There, with his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on your knees. You were wearing combat boots, a plaid dark purple skirt and a black sweater. The gold chain wrapped around your neck. 

The gold chain. 

Wrapped around your neck.

There he goes again. 

Trying to snap out of it, he asked “What are you wearing?” He could only hope he didn’t sound too awkward, but you seemed to be used to him by now.  You didn’t flinch when he talked to you, you didn’t look like you wanted to kill him… all the time. 

You shrugged, your feet swinging back and forth. “I didn’t have much time to think. I’ll come up with something, too.” 

That night, The Alley was wrapped in cobwebs and flashing neon lights coming from the laser projector. The laughter cut through the loud music, the fog machine was breathing in and out like an old lung, the whole place smelled like weed, smoke and melted wax. Even if The Alley didn’t have the highest of budgets, it managed to disguise the whole place as a haunted house. 

The movie ended long ago, so people in costumes were dispersed all over the halls, the bathrooms, the kitchen, the bar and the backyard. There was a buzz in the air, something that made his heart pound. 

Most nights, the weak yellow lights barely reached the ceiling, but tonight seemed like a completely different place, like a memory buried deep inside Yoongi’s mind. 

In the end, Summer had somewhat saved him. She arrived at his apartment with nothing more than a red vest in her hands, making Yoongi more confused than he already was. 

She was wearing this sparkly pink dress, a glittery crown and had a magic wand in her hand. Her hair was tied up in a half pony tail and her lips were so glossy they shined. 

“I’m Glinda!” She explained with a smile on her face. “And you’re supposed to be Fiyero.” 

That didn’t make Yoongi less confused, as if he knew what any of those words meant, for his sake, he decided to go along with her. 

Luckily, Summer made sure that Yoongi understood their costumes. “It’s from Wicked.” She said, rolling her eyes. “Glinda is Fiyero’s girlfriend.” 

Then, Summer proceeded to talk about the new movie and the plot, the characters, the songs, but she made Yoongi promise to keep a secret: she didn’t watch it all the way through. He couldn’t blame her, because he hadn’t seen it either.

He was thankful that she saved him, but the idea of a couple’s costume made his stomach twist. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t like Summer. He did, he had never dated someone for this long. She was funny, kind and his mom loved her. Those were the main reasons why he decided to ask her out, and why he kept spending time with her.  But lately it felt like coming down from a high, it felt right at first, like something like he was supposed to do, but soon enough felt wrong. He was too afraid to admit it, to say it out loud, to accept the fact that he didn’t feel anything when he kissed her. 

He tried to be rational, he tried. Why wouldn’t he want to be with her? She was beautiful and nice, she was there, with the whitest of smiles, willing to make this night worth it, he figured he should. He had to.

He put on the vest on top of his white shirt and hoped that Minnie would think this was an acceptable costume. If he was lucky, no one would ask him about it. If he was lucky, he could pass unnoticed for the rest of the night and go to bed early. 

Perhaps you were right, this was way past his bed time. He wasn’t used to parties like this anymore, maybe when he was twenty and Simon dragged him to frat parties just to get drunk out of their minds on a Wednesday, but now it was a completely different story. Regardless of that, tonight the thread in his chest was pulling him in, making him stay.

And then, he saw you. 

He was a bit late, so the party had already started by the time he arrived. It was full of people, more than Yoongi would’ve imagined, and he thought he was safe because maybe he wouldn’t see you for a while at first, but when he walked into the room, you were the first thing he saw. 

He pretended he didn’t feel it, but it wrecked a part of his soul. Seeing you there, coming down the stage wearing a short strapless black dress, too short for his own sake, green tights and a pointy witch hat over your head. He was hit by a flashback so vivid it made him dizzy.

You, on a black dress. 

You, on top of him.

You, on his bed. 

When he turned right, there was Summer. Bright and flashy and full of excitement. She saw you too. 

Before Yoongi could snap out of it, Summer grabbed his arm, dragging him directly in your direction. “Oh my God, let’s go say hi!” She exclaimed, cheerful. 

Not this again.

She surfed through the sea of people, trying to reach the stage where you were still standing, in the last step of the stage. It wasn't that high, but you were eye to eye with him. 

Your eyes caught his, sparkling under the neon lights in the dark. You had a dark but subtle make up that made your gaze sharper and glossy lips. You held his stare for a second and then, your eyes fell on Summer. 

“You look stunning!” She yelped as soon as she got the chance. 

You seemed surprised and a bit startled, but there was no bitterness in your eyes, no sign of being upset, not like last time you encountered the two of them.

“You actually came.” You said softly, your tone light. His chest tightened at the casualness.

“We did.” he muttered, tugging at the collar of his Fiyero outfit like it could shield him from yet another uncomfortable situation. You, however, didn’t seem shaken at all. There it was again, that smile that decorated your lips when you were working in the play, when you were decorating the halls, when you were testing the DJ set. You seemed happy.

“I had to make him dress up.” Summer explained to you as if you were friends, but you didn’t seem to mind. 

“I figured that much.” You smiled gently, taking a good look at their outfits. “So… Glinda?” You glanced at Summer. The motion sent a shiver down Yoongi’s spine.

Summer nodded repeatedly, probably relieved that you were in a good mood tonight. “And are you Elphaba?”

“I don’t know, I guess I tried?” You scrunched your nose “What about you, Fiyero?”

He shook his head, trying not to roll his eyes. “Don’t ask me any questions.”

“I knew you weren’t that fun. I bet you didn’t even watch the movie.” You accused him, making Summer laugh. 

“I have a costume, don’t I?” He sighed.

“Barely.” You said, turning to Summer again. “You look beautiful by the way.” Summer almost melted on the spot. “There's an open bar until one a.m, and pizza in the kitchen. Enjoy the night.” 

You reached the floor, waving goodbye and disappearing into the crowd, leaving both of them speechless. 

As soon as he reached the bar, he asked for a beer.

“Never thought I’d see you drunk.” Jungkook’s bubbly voice filled Yoongi’s ears as they leaned on the wall, watching the party unfold. 

“I’m not drunk.” He said, taking the beer bottle to his lips one more time. 

The room was dark, and he could barely see the faces of the people dancing in front of him, or where Summer was, or who took her to dance after he told her that he preferred to stay there for a while. 

“Yeah, and I’m not high.” Jungkook laughed. He was dressed as a skeleton, he had a black body suit clung to his frame, the bones were printed down his chest and arms, but he was still wearing dark jeans and combat boots. Still, the most impressive part of his outfit was the make up on his face, it looked like it was done in a hurry and yet it looked impressive enough. There was black paint smudged under his eyes and jaw, making his bone structure more noticeable. He told him one of the girls from the staff offered to do it for him ten minutes before the party started. 

It wasn’t too elaborate, but it earned him the third spot in the costume contest. He had been wearing the brown medal on his neck all night, absolutely proud of it.

Yoongi checked the clock on his phone and realized it wasn’t even one am, and even if he wouldn’t admit it, it was too early to be this drunk. 

Still, he kept drinking.

“What do you think of her?” The question travelled through the loud sound of S&M by Rihanna, making him raise his gaze to look at Jungkook looking at a specific point in the dancefloor. 

A bit confused, he followed Jungkook’s gaze and froze.

You were dancing with Minnie, laughing and breathless in the center of the crowd, your body moving to the beat as if the music was part of you. The lights kept shifting, washing over your bare skin in flashes violet and red, tracing the curve of your neck, your legs. Your hair was loose, flowing all over the place. 

He gulped. “What about her?”

Jungkook laughed under his breath, as if it was obvious. “I’ve been thinking of asking her to dance.” He confessed. “Or is it too soon?” 

He forced a small laugh, even though his throat felt dry. 

“Too soon?” He repeated, his eyes glued to you like he was hypnotized.

“You know, she just got out of a relationship with that asshole.” Jungkook explained, bringing the disgusting image of your ex to Yoongi’s mind. 

“Ah, that fucker, yes.” He hummed. “But you’re worrying about the wrong thing, kid. I think you’d have to actually reach her first.”

Jungkook chuckled, not catching the edge of his voice. “C’mon, man. I may not be a movie star, but I’m good enough.”

He was right. Jungkook was no movie star, but he was exactly the type of guy you used to drool over when you were fourteen watching MTV. The kind of guys were tall, had piercings and dressed all in black, which made Yoongi shift uncomfortably.

He tried to focus on the music, on the crowd, on anything else beside you, but every small movement you made seemed to burn itself into his mind. 

Jungkook was okay, but you were a different kind of girl. Way out of everyone’s league, even his. 

“Well, maybe for any other girl.” He shrugged, trying to sound detached. “But for her? You’re aiming… pretty high, don’t you think?” 

Jungkook paused for a second, but Yoongi was in a haze, way too drunk to try to imagine what was happening in Jungkook’s mind, way too drunk to care. “That sounds like a challenge to me.” He said with a grin.

Jungkook stepped forward, leaving his place next to Yoongi to dive into the crowd towards you, but you didn’t notice him yet, you were too caught up in the music. 

Yoongi tried to follow each movement in the dark as he felt his stomach tighten, his hands twitching, itching to do something, say something, even if he knew it was wrong. 

Maneater by Nelly Furtado began blasting when Jungkook reached you, you noticed him and smiled, grabbing the hand he just offered to you. 

The fact that you’ve barely spoken to him during the whole night was almost painful, which was ridiculous. He came with someone else, and you were free to do whatever you wanted, even if that was dancing with Jungkook.

Jungkook pulled you towards him, making you giggle as he made you spin. Yoongi wanted to look away, to stop paying attention to the grip of Jungkook’s hands on your waist, or the way your hips moved, the way your hair danced with you, but he couldn’t. Maybe because he knew that was all he had, that was what he had to settle for. 

So he observed from the dark corner of the room where nowhere could see him. He had his eyes so focused on you as if you were about to disappear at any moment. Maybe you were, maybe this was just an oasis in the middle of the desert, a brief moment where you appeared, wrecked his word, made him doubt himself until you broke him, and then you would disappear back to your normal life. A life without him. 

Then, when the song ended, right before another one began, you looked around and accidentally glanced back briefly, catching his eyes as he took another sip of his beer. Neither of you said or did anything, nor an acknowledging smile or a vague wave, the both of you stood in the distance, staring at each other with eyes filled with poison.

It was three a.m when Yoongi thought the night should be over, but no one seemed to agree with him. The party was still at its peak, the music was still blasting from the speakers, people kept dancing, drinking, kissing. 

He had already danced a little when Summer begged him to, he had drunk more than enough, talked a bunch of nonsense with Namjoon all night, tried to ignore you dancing with Jungkook and focus on the girl beside him, the girl he had come here with in the first place, but it was difficult to focus on anything at all when he was this drunk. 

The night wasn’t going any faster either. It dragged slowly, the way he figured it would go when you felt this miserable.

Now he was ready to leave and end this night once for all. Summer had gathered her things and seemed to have had enough of it as well, but when he was about to be out the door, Minnie appeared behind him, her voice tight with exhaustion. “There’s a problem backstage with the cables and the fog machine. It’s cutting in and out.” 

He frowned, confused, why would she want him to fix that right now? He wanted to tell her to turn it off and call it a night. “Right now?” 

Minnie pouted, putting her hands together in a plea. “Pretty please. I won’t ask anything else from you.” 

“I highly doubt that.” He let out a chuckle, too tired to fight back.

“What if it explodes?” She exaggerated, but she was right, and he was already drunk enough to feel confident he could handle it. 

“Alright, take me there.” he muttered, leaving Summer behind for a moment. 

She took him to a tiny storage space behind the stage, full of coiled cables and equipment. There was a faint yellow light that poorly illuminated the tight closet, which made Yoongi aware that he was not as sober as he thought, but he was going to try anyway. The fog machine sat on the floor, making a loud sound that almost left Yoongi deaf. 

“Here, look at this,” Minnie said, pointing to a tangle of wires. “It’s probably just a loose connection, but-”

“Got it,” Yoongi interrupted, already crouching beside the mess, taking in the problem. “Where are the tools?”

Minnie straightened, rubbing her temples. “Hold on, they are in another room. I’ll be back.” 

Then, he left him there, sitting on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. The only sound in the tiny room was the old fog machine who threatened to kill him at any moment.

He was supposed to be on his way home by now. He was hot, tired, drunk and needed a glass of water and maybe a shower too. His whole word was spinning, he was just realizing.  

After a few minutes, he heard steps approaching, but it wasn’t Minnie’s hurried pace he was so used to hearing. He saw your feet covered by your green tights first, it looked like you had gotten rid of your shoes a long time ago. 

“What’s that sound?” You asked, making him glance up. You stood there with the box of tools in your hands. Your cheeks were flushed, and your witch hat was gone, probably lost somewhere on the dance floor after one of those spins Jungkook had pulled you into. That’s what Yoongi imagined, anyway.  “What are you doing on the floor?”

Yoongi blinked and returned to his crouched position beside the fog machine. “What are you doing here?” He asked, narrowing his eyes to look at you clearly.

You knelt down next to him, careful not to step on the scattered cables. The hem of your black dress shifted higher, but you didn’t notice or maybe you didn’t care. You just swept your hair over one shoulder so it wouldn’t get in the way. “Minnie handed me the tools and sent me here, I think it was because Thrilled started playing and she didn’t want to miss it.” Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh. He was there fixing this mess and she was out on the dance floor. “What are you doing, by the way?” You asked curiously. 

“Minnie asked me to fix it,” he muttered, his voice rough and slightly slurred. 

Yoongi averted your gaze, pretending to focus on the mess of wires in front of him. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and turned on the flashlight since the weak light on the ceiling was useless. 

“She really couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” you asked, your voice carrying that teasing softness he knew too well.

“She said the fog machine was the soul of the party,” he said, rummaging through the box until he found a screwdriver. His hands weren’t steady—too much alcohol, too little patience—but he started tightening the loose clamp anyway, muttering something under his breath as if the wires could hear him.

You leaned in, close enough for him to catch the faint smell of your plump perfume over the smell of the old closet. “She’s not lying, though.” You said, grabbing the phone off his hands without permission, your hands brushing together without care. 

“Are you sure?” He asked before he could stop himself. “I thought you were the soul of the party.” 

You scoffed, “Why is that?” 

“I don’t know.” He said so low it might as well could be a whisper. “You danced all night long with that kid.” 

“Jungkook, you mean?” He hummed in response. You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Well, I had to make up for those who weren’t dancing.”

Yoongi snorted, half amused. “I danced.”

You shot him a look, it was playful, but it felt way too intimate. “If that’s what you call dancing, sure.” 

He twisted a loose wire between his fingers, pretending to focus on it. “So you were watching.”

“I paid attention.” You hummed. Maybe you were a bit drunk, too, otherwise you wouldn't be so willing to help him at this hour of the night. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” 

“No.” He let out a low chuckle without looking up, “I mean, yeah. Don’t worry. I’m just… not in my five senses right now.”

“You’re drunk.” You said, laughing under your breath. “But it’s okay, I am too. And a little high.”

“I’m not drunk.” he muttered, squinting at the mess of wires like they were moving on their own. “Not that drunk, anyway.”

You arched a brow, the corner of your mouth twitching. “Should I trust you not to set this place on fire?”

“No, not at all.” He chuckled, ignoring the way you rolled your eyes. 

There was a pause, a quiet silence despite the loud sound of the fog machine and the music outside. Yoongi thought that was it, the end of the conversation. A rare glimpse of you, and the version he used to know, until-

“So…” You said, making him flinch. “You didn’t watch Wicked.”

“I can’t say I did.” He shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the tangle of wires. “I just wore what she gave me.”

She. It was ridiculous.  He couldn’t even bring himself to say her name in front of you.

“Obviously,” you muttered, letting out a small sigh. 

“Why?” he asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Am I not the target audience for Wicked?”

“Well, no. I don’t think so,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “But also because… you should know this, Fiyero and Glinda are a terrible choice for a couple’s costume.”

“Why, exactly?” His curiosity got the better of him.

“Mmm… because Fiyero doesn’t end up with Glinda at the end.”

His gaze lifted, locking onto yours. “Is that right?” You hummed, nodding, “Who does he end up with, then?”

Yoongi watched his lips twitch into a smile, but you shook your head. “I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you.”

It sent him into a spiral. The light of his flashlight illuminated your face, catching the way you slightly bit your lower lip,soft, and tempting. His chest tightened as his eyes traced the curve of your mouth, the mouth he had kissed so many times. 

He tried to look away, but couldn’t. His gaze drifted down, to your defined jaw, your exposed neck and the faint shimmer of the gold chain resting just above the curve of your chest, the low neckline of your dress in front of him and the heat pooling in his stomach, making impossible to focus on  whatever the fuck he was supposed to be fixing.

“Be careful, Fiyero.” You suddenly said, pushing his chin up with your finger. “I might hex you if you stare too much.”

Yoongi cheekily smirked, not ashamed at all for being caught, “I think I’m already cursed.” He murmured. 

You swallowed, looking at him like he just said something he wasn’t supposed to. 

A beat of silence stretched between you before he spoke again, too fast, like the words had been sitting on his tongue for hours.

“It’s not a couple’s costume,” he blurted out.

Your eyebrows drew together. “What?”

“Me and Summer…” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It’s not- we’re not-”

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing. “It’s not what? Not serious?”

“No, I mean- I think what I want to say is that it’s nothing.”

You pressed your lips together, and for a moment, he thought you were going to laugh at him. “You don’t need to explain anything to me.”

He clicked his tongue, nodding. “I know.” 

But you held his haze, watching his parted lips, waiting for him to say something else, to explain himself, to give you a different answer, and then, the machine hissed loudly, letting out a burst of white smoke that made the two of you flinch.  

“See? Not that drunk.” He whispered, his face way too close to yours. 

You drew in a sharp breath, chest rising and falling. Something shifted in your eyes—Yoongi couldn’t place what—but it made you pull back and stand up immediately.

He rose to his feet right after you, your eyes still locked. You pressed his phone into his chest, returning it, and his hand closed over yours.

For some reason, you didn’t pull away.

Yoongi’s gaze flicked down to your mouth and back up, feeling the heat of your stare. “That still gets me, you know.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“The way you look at me,” he murmured, voice low.

Opening your eyes widely, you shook your head in denial. “You’re imagining things now.”

“Maybe.” He leaned slightly, closing the space between you and him bit by bit. “But if I am… You’re not exactly running.”

You stiffened for a moment, dropping your cold hand from his soft grip, but you were unable to escape his proximity. Your eyes flicked to his lips before darting away.

“I should go.” You murmured so low it might as well have been a secret.

“Then go.”

But you didn’t, and neither did he. The fog from the machine curled around your ankles, a soft white haze that made the closet feel smaller than it already was. 

Yoongi exhaled slowly, “Can I ask you what’s happening?” His voice was rough, hesitant. The alcohol could have made it easier to ask, but harder to articulate. 

You swallowed, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands. “Nothing is happening.” Your words were almost a whisper, and your gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before flicking up at him again. “You’re drunk.”

“But it is.” He rubbed the back of his neck, swaying slightly on his feet. “Because I can’t-because I shouldn’t. But… here we are.”

Dead silence stretched, thick and suffocating. You didn’t know what to say, he already knew. 

“Don’t you remember what you told me that day?” you finally murmured. His gaze searched for any sharpness in your eyes, but there was none. You looked at him with tenderness, like a past memory, an old feeling.  

“I remember everything,” he admitted, and for a moment, you looked down at your feet, as if trying to anchor yourself.

“I do too,” you whispered. “You told me it shouldn’t have happened. That it was best to forget… for everyone’s sake. Didn’t you say that?”

He nodded slowly. His chest ached, a hollow squeeze in his heart. “Yes,” he murmured. “But… what if I’m the one who can’t forget?”

You didn’t answer, just shifted slightly, and he stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. His arm lifted, resting against the wall beside you, caging you.

His eyes flicked down to your lips, then back to your eyes, searching, daring. The closet felt impossibly small, the fog machine’s hiss and the hum of the wires fading into the background.

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the two of you. “Yoongi, it’s been years…” You said, “I did exactly what you told me, what can I do now?” 

“I know, I know.” He swallowed, his throat tight, as if the words themselves were heavy. “It’s just… I’m tired. So tired…”

The world around him blurred, the air was too heavy. He didn’t understand why you hadn’t left, why you hadn’t punched him, cursed him, or sent him straight to hell along with all his regrets. And yet, here you were, standing so close he could feel the warmth radiating from you, listening.

“Yoongi… do you know…” Your voice trembled slightly, taking a deep breath. “Do you know how many years I’ve waited for you?” 

The question hung between you, catching him off guard. He raised his eyebrows, opening his eyes widely as he shook his head, unsure if he could utter a word. 

“Me neither,” you whispered, your voice was laced with so much sweetness it made Yoongi want to throw up. Still, you moved just a fraction closer, until the scent of you filled the space between them. “But even so… they’re more than the years I haven’t waited for you. I’ve got to change that.”

He nodded, your words settling deeply in his chest. You were right, you couldn’t do anything about it, it was his fault. Why was he even bringing this up? Why was he here? Why were you here with him, in this closet, caged between heavy breaths and unspoken words like so many years ago?

It was over, he knew. He always knew it. 

Then, why?

Why, why, why couldn't he forget about you? Why did he keep running away? Why did he keep dating girls who were the exact opposite as you to avoid thinking of you? To try to forget you? 

It was written here, in this town, in these walls, in his old bed, in the same dancefloor where he kissed you for the first time, in his hands, his chest, his mind, his heart.

What you had was something so deeply attached to his soul that he was afraid he would have to carry it like a cross for the rest of his life. 

He wanted you to free him from it, to forgive him, to make him forget. He wanted to say sorry, to make up for it, this time for real.

When he opened his mouth to speak, to do something about it, the spell broke.

“There you are!” A bubbly voice cut through the silence, making Yoongi jump in place, his chest tightening as he realized how exposed the two of you were. You stiffened, instinctively stepping backwards, your sudden movement shattering the fragile tension.

Yoongi’s gaze flicked to Summer. Her face had gone pale, her expression unreadable, but her eyes… they told him everything he already knew, everything he shouldn’t have let happen.

“I… uh…” Yoongi muttered, trying to compose himself, his hand dropping from the wall to his side.

You swore under your breath, cheeks hot, and muttered, “I’m sorry, I should go.”

Before Yoongi could breathe, you stepped further from him. You didn’t have to apologize for anything, it was him who did.

He watched you walk out the door, leaving him with a hole carved in the middle of his chest, bleeding.

“What happened?” Summer spoke, her voice weak. 

He looked at her, wanting to ask the same question. “Shall we go?”

On the way out, Yoongi almost collided with Minnie by the door. She was leaning against Namjoon, sharing a cigarette, the smoke curling around them like a small cloud. Their eyes lit up when they saw him.

“Did you fix it?” Minnie asked, a smile tugging at her lips as if she already knew the answer.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “But that thing doesn’t have much longer, I already told you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She rolled her eyes, taking a slow drag from her cigarette. “Where’s your girl, by the way?”

Yoongi exhaled, the weight of the night pressing down on him. “She’s in the bathroom. We’re about to leave.”

Minnie hummed, a teasing note in her voice. “Did you have fun?”

“I think we did,” he replied, but his voice lacked conviction.

“Mmm, I don’t believe you for one minute.”

Yoongi wanted to laugh—he really did—but the hole that ached in his chest made it impossible.

His eyes drifted to the faint traces of smoke curling in the air, his thoughts wandering to the closet, the fog machine, your silly tone before he fucked everything up again. 

“Can I ask you something?” he said, and Minnie’s gaze snapped to him, immediately attentive.

“What is it?”

“Have you seen Wicked?”

“Of course, what kind of question is that?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Well… do you know who Fiyero ends up with at the end?” he asked, a hint of hesitance in his voice.

A mischievous smile spread across Minnie’s face. “Easy. With the Wicked Witch of the West.”

Below Your Mouth | ☔️ ✗ ♡ 🔞

⇥ bakery owner!yoongi x customer!reader

all yoongi knows about you is your love for his sweet mini buttercream cakes that you stop by to purchase late at night. he can’t help but wonder if you taste just as sweet

Memento Mori | ⚠️☔️ ✗♡🔞 - mini series - tbd.*

⇥ Yoongi x vampire reader

turned into a vampire as revenge, yoongi vows to take care of you - no matter the consequences. but taking care of you begins to take a toll on yoongi, and after you accidentally feed on him - nearly killing him - you decide the best thing to do is to run away rather than stay and risk his life.

A Million Little Things | ☔️ ✗ ♡ 🔞 - tbd.*

⇥ music producer!yoongi x graphic designer!oc

a series of events throughout her childhood leads her to make choices in her adulthood that may not be beneficial to her or the people she loves.

An Empty Home | ☔️ ✗ 🔞

⇥ model!yoongi x oc, businessman!taehyung x oc 

although forced to marry by his family, taehyung tries to make his marriage work only to later distance himself, and in turn, breaks isadora’s heart. isadora finds comfort in yoongi, a model who doesn’t believe in commitment until he finds himself falling for her

Taste | ✗ 🔞 ✓

⇥ hoseok x reader x yoongi

hoseok is in a sharing mood and his best friend is so, so thankful

At the night club | 🔞 ✗

⇥ yoongi x gf!reader

public sex is always a good idea

You & The Moon | ☔️

⇥ yoongi x reader

yoongi grieves your absence while trying to celebrate your memory at your favorite place

copyright © 7deadlysinsfics | no copying, reposting, translating, or modifying my works

Present

There was a time a few years ago, back when you slept in a bed for two and winter sneaked under your sheets, when the treacherous thought of what could’ve been knocked on your door before you fell asleep every night. Even when you tried to push it away, even when you threw your pillow over your head, even seconds before those 2 mg of melatonin were about to kick in, the question still tormented your mind. There, in the dark of your room as the lights of the city poorly illuminated the place, you wondered if there was a timeline, a different reality where everything worked out.

You closed your eyes and tried to imagine a universe where everything was alright—one where Yoongi apologized for not calling after that night, and when you saw him that cold December morning, he’d be so happy to see you that the frown on his face would disappear.

Maybe in that universe, he would’ve asked you to stay for lunch, and maybe you would’ve helped him with his mom for the rest of the winter so she wouldn’t be mad at him. You tortured yourself thinking that maybe Yoongi would’ve planned the trip to the beach for the end of spring. You imagined what kind of shorts he would’ve packed, what kind of t-shirts, what kind of pajamas. You wondered if he would’ve let you stop at every old diner on the side of the road, if he would’ve taken your picture at every stop, if he would’ve kissed you just before you changed seats when it was your turn to drive.

Ever since that day, you’d rolled in bed wondering if he ever pictured you the same way you had so many times—if he saw you in the passenger seat of his car, on the sand by the sea, on the blue sheets, in hotel towels.

Looking at the ceiling, with eyes wide open, you always ended up thinking: would it have been so bad to follow you? Would he have gotten tired of your laughter so quickly? Of your fingers running down his back, of your words hanging from your lips just before you were about to make fun of him? Would he have gotten tired of your arguing, your cursing, your dragging feet? Would the memory of the few hundred kisses he gave you that night have worn out that fast?

You knew thinking about it was a waste of time, but as you were getting ready to have dinner with Nari, all those unanswered questions resurfaced—just in case you wanted to think twice and stay home, like you were so tempted to do.

On the edge of her bed was Minnie, sitting next to her cat as she watched you do your eyeliner. She had already apologized for snapping at you a few days ago, which forced you to recognize that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t completely cool with Yoongi being around, and you weren’t completely cool with him being involved in a place that had nothing to do with him, nothing except you. 

But surprisingly, against all odds—against all Yoongis—you wanted to stay. Not only because saying yes to Minnie and then quitting would’ve been completely cruel, but because you wanted to. You stayed because some part of you, the part you kept trying to silence, didn’t want to leave just yet.

You were still bitter that Minnie stayed friendly with Yoongi—but that started to fade when you told her he wanted to “talk things through” (whatever that meant). She was your best friend again the second she joined you in talking shit, trying to dissect everything he said like it was a crime scene that needed solving.

“So…” Minnie tilted her head, eyeing you. “Is he picking you up?”

“He said so.”

She paused for a moment, picturing that image in her head. “You know he has a girl, right?” she said, snorting. “I would freak out if I were Blondie. Imagine finding out your boyfriend is driving his famous ex-girlfriend to have dinner with his mom. God, no. I’d throw up.”

You shook your head, trying not to laugh at how fast her imagination could run. “He’s not my ex-boyfriend, Minnie… and he’s not driving me—we’re walking. He asked if we could have a chat before dinner, so she shouldn’t worry too much.” You said, turning from the mirror to sit beside her and slip on your Mary Janes. “And besides… you shouldn’t be gossiping about your friend, you know?” 

Minnie scoffed. “Whatever, it’s none of my business, but since when has that ever stopped me?” She waved a hand dismissively. “Besides, it’s not gossip if it’s true.” She huffed. “Did you know that he can’t keep a girl? I mean, maybe that’s not the right way to put it, because he can—he totally could. But maybe he just doesn’t want to.” 

“Charming,” you muttered, fussing a little too long with the strap of your shoe. “He’s always been like that.” 

Minnie leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But it’s not just that—it’s like he gets bored. I’ve seen it happen a few times. He meets a girl, keeps her around for a few weeks, and then poof. Gone.”

You paused, curiosity flickering despite yourself. “Wait, what do you mean? Like he ghosts them?”

“No, I don’t think he ghosts them.” She said “It’s like he fades out. Stops texting as much, stops making plans. Let things die off slow.”

You glanced up, forcing your expression to stay neutral, though your fingers lingered a bit too long on the buckle. “Like a soft breakup?”

Minnie smiled, a small, knowing curve of her lips. “It’s not really a breakup, though, is it? Not if he’s not actually in a relationship. That’s what he keeps saying about that blonde girl—‘the girl I’m seeing,’” she mimicked in a teasing tone. “Like he’s afraid of it getting too serious.”

You gave a small, distracted nod, not trusting yourself to say much. It was weird hearing that—how casual he was with other people. But it wasn’t difficult to imagine him like that; he never had proper girlfriends back in high school, which, at the time, felt like a small mercy. But that didn’t spare you from watching him parade around with a new girl every other week.

“How do you even know all that?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Namjoon,” Minnie said, like it was obvious. “He works with Yoongi sometimes. He told me.”

You laughed, eyebrows lifting. “Namjoon? Isn’t he Yoongi’s friend? Why would he spill that to you?”

“Because he likes me,” she said breezily, without missing a beat. “Didn’t I tell you that already? I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason he’s helping out at The Alley. Look—I don’t believe in exploiting my charm to get things from men, but if it’s for an extremely good cause?” She gave a shrug. “I think I’ll survive. Besides, he’s not a weirdo. He’s actually really cute.”

You snorted. “Yeah, tell me about it. Does he still wear those glasses?”

Her eyes lit up. “The glasses are so cute.”

You shook your head, smiling.

“It wasn’t just Namjoon, though,” she added. “I can read people.”

“Yoongi’s not easy to read,” you said, quieter this time. “Maybe you’re reading him wrong.”

“No, I don’t think so.” She shook her head “I told you, with you… it was different. It’s like he can’t talk about you, or even hear your name. It stings him, I know it wasn’t like that with you.”

You let out a dry laugh. For some reason, you already knew it was different with you. Even now, you could still swear it was. You could look into Yoongi’s eyes and see everything through, it meant something, but that didn’t make it any less bad. “Yeah, it was different.” You muttered, rising to your feet and brushing invisible dust from your skirt, just to have something to do. “It was worse.”

Minnie tilted her head, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You know,” she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully “maybe you broke him. Maybe that’s why he can’t keep a girl now. You ruined his capacity for normal relationships.”

You laughed, surprised by how easily it came out. “Please. That boy was malfunctioning way before me.”

“Perhaps,” Minnie said, pretending to consider it. “But you broke him for good.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smile lingered. “We weren’t even together, Minnie. We barely got started.”

She crossed her arms behind her head “C’mon… You fucked. You fucked like, a lot.”

You snorted, eyes squeezing shut. “God.”

“Maybe that’s how you did it,” she said with a shrug, grinning. “Scrambled his brain. That poor man never stood a chance.”

You covered your face, laughing into your hands. “Can you not? I have to look him in the eye.”

“Oh, please. What if he can’t get it up with anyone else now? What if that’s why he dumps them?” She smirked. “God, I’d kill to ruin a man like that.”

You shook your head. “You’re deranged.” 

Minnie just smiled, clearly proud of it. 

Still chuckling, you grabbed your phone. Just as you were about to slip it into your bag, the screen lit up with a new message.

Yoongi: I’m outside.

“Speaking of the devil.” You sighed, suddenly feeling nervous.  

“Hell is empty.” She whispered, dramatically. “And all the devils are here.”

You seemed to be stuck in a constant fight between the present and the past, even after all the times you’d tried to leave things behind. But the past had a way of finding you—softly, stubbornly—whether you liked it or not.

This time, though, you had a choice. When Yoongi texted you a few days ago, you could’ve ignored it. You could’ve said you’d changed your mind, told him to fuck off, and left it at that. It wasn’t like you owed him anything. You didn’t have to talk to him, didn’t have to look at him, didn’t have to remember.

It was stupid, really, but you guessed this was also a small part of your redemption arc. Facing Yoongi. Giving things a proper ending. Trying to behave like a decent, grown-up human being, even when some parts of you still refused, even when it still stung. 

So here you were, heart picking up pace with every step as you pushed the door open, letting the cold hit your face just as his long figure turned to face you. 

Yoongi stood by the stair railings, cheeks and nose pink from the wind, hair slightly messy and a long grey coat, different from his usual black one. His eyes lit up just barely, but you caught it.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, careful.

“Hi…” You muttered, letting the door click shut behind you. Then, glancing at his coat, “Is it that cold?”

He looked down, shrugged. “A bit, yeah.”

You groaned as you started walking, the sidewalk still damp from a recent rain. “I should’ve worn pants.”

You heard his footsteps fall beside you as you turned the corner, knowing the way to his childhood home from memory. He kept careful distance between you, but you could feel him regardless.

The street was quiet, just the low hum of cars in the distance and the occasional gust of wind threading between the buildings. You tucked your hands into your jacket pockets. He did the same.

For a moment, it was like neither of you knew how to speak.

Then Yoongi cleared his throat, barely louder than the wind. “You really staying for the whole thing?”

You glanced sideways at him. “The play?”

“Yeah. I thought you were just visiting,” He said, eyes fixed on the sidewalk. 

“No, um… I’m staying for a bit. At least until December. For the play, and some other stuff, too.” you added, unsure what else to say. The truth was that you didn’t have any idea what you were going to do in the next months, but that was the plan for now.

“Great,” he murmured. “I’m glad you’re staying. When you left the other day, I thought you were about to quit.”

You didn’t answer right away. The streetlight ahead blinked weakly.

“Oh, I thought about it,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t do that to Minnie. And… I like yelling at kids.”

He let out a low laugh. “Clearly your calling.”

That made you smile. You didn’t mean to—but he caught it, and didn’t comment. Just kept walking beside you like he hadn’t noticed at all.

“You still do that thing where you tap your fingers when you’re nervous,” he said after a minute, eyes on your hand wrapped around your bag strap.

You glanced at him. “You still bring up things no one asks you to notice.”

He gave a small laugh. “Right. Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry.”

“No, I’m not.”

The sidewalk went quiet again. A bus rattled by on the other side of the street, loud enough to fill the space between words. Neither of you turned to look.

“So?” you said eventually, looking at him. “You told me you were going to figure something out.”

He nodded once. “Yeah. I did say that.”

But then he fell quiet again.

You gave him a look. “Well?”

He blinked, caught in thought. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I guess I’m realizing that no matter what I come up with, you’ll still want me six feet under, so it’s… complicated.”

You looked at him. “It’s not that I want you buried, Yoongi.”

He looked at you then—really looked, like he was trying to figure out if you meant it.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “That’s… something.”

“It’s just…” You exhaled, keeping your voice even. “I’m not in the best mood these days.  And honestly, you’re not exactly the person I’d choose to spend the night with. I’m confused. I don’t know what you’re trying to do here.”

“I don’t either,” he said, quiet but honest. “But I’m trying. And I’ve been thinking… I don’t want to fight with you.”

You stayed silent. You weren’t sure if you agreed with that. There was still a part of you that would take any opportunity to push him away.

You didn’t answer. A moment passed before you heard him sigh.

“We’ve known each other our whole lives, you know?” he murmured after a few seconds. There was a weight to his words, an understanding only the two of you could share. The sentence echoed in the quiet street, it echoed inside your chest and rang your ears, making you clench your fists. 

“I know.” You muttered, keeping your eyes on the sidewalk, the rhythm of your steps careful. “You don’t have to tell me.”

He looked ahead, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat, his breath visible in the cold air. “Well… I don’t know. Maybe I have to.”

You shook your head slightly, not quite looking at him. “But that’s the point. We don’t know each other anymore. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.” You paused, letting the words hang between you both. “That doesn’t have to do with anything.”

His voice softened, but his words didn’t waver. “That has to do with everything.” He glanced at you, his gaze steady but unsure. “We’re going to see each other. We’re part of each other’s lives.”

You’re not part of my life, you wanted to say. You’d worked hard to make sure of that—to push him out, to forget. And yet here he was again, walking beside you like no time had passed at all.

“I don’t know.” You sighed “I’m gonna be honest, that doesn’t feel like a good reason to me. History doesn’t mean we owe each other anything.” 

“Maybe not,” he said, quiet now. “But we still share it. Whether we like it or not. You’re part of mine. You always have been.” He gave you a quiet look, but you didn’t dare to look at him back. “Just look at my mom. She talks about you like you’re her child. She adores you, we can’t… erase that.” 

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the mention of his mother. 

This was the second time Yoongi had brought her up to get to you — and this time, you couldn’t say he was wrong.

You always had a weak spot for Nari. She always made you feel like you belonged, it was the kind of feeling you held onto when you were young, it was the kind of feeling you were still chasing after all these years. 

“So, what are you proposing?” you asked, exhaling slowly. “Because I love your mom, Yoongi. But maybe I don’t want to be friends with you. We can’t… I can’t ignore the past, I can’t pretend you didn’t hurt me and nothing happened.”

The silence almost killed the both of you.

That was the first time either of you had said it out loud.

Yoongi didn’t flinch, but something in him shifted. You could feel it.

“I know I fucked up,” he said, voice low. “And I know I can’t rewrite things. I’m not trying to wipe that clean.”

He paused, jaw tightening for just a second.

“I’m not asking you to forget,” he said after a moment. “Or to act like it didn’t matter. I know it did.”

He glanced at you, voice careful. “But we’re not the same people anymore. Things are different. We’re different.”

He shrugged, like he didn’t want to let the silence swallow him whole.

“It’s not just that, Yoongi,” you said, almost whispering. “A lot of things changed—everything changed after I left. After everything you said. It’s not that easy to get past it.”

“I know that, too…” he said, quieter now. “I’m not trying to be an asshole.”

He sighed, like he was still choosing the words that wouldn’t come.

“I’m not saying you’re an asshole.” You let out a soft, bitter laugh. “I know you’re not. And I know you’re trying to do things right. That’s the part that bothers me.”

Yoongi didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you for a second, like he wanted to respond but wasn’t sure how.

Then he nodded slowly.

“We can work together without dragging the past into every room. That’s all I’m saying. I’m not asking for friendship… just a middle ground.” He let out a breath. “I don’t know… we can’t just act like we don’t exist in each other’s world anymore.”

“A middle ground?” You repeated. 

“A truce.”

For fuck’s sake. 

You had never been one to hold back, it was quite the opposite. You were explosive, and you never thought twice. A truce wouldn’t mean the same thing to Yoongi as it would to you. To you, a truce would mean biting your tongue, going against your own nature.

But then again, you could try. Maybe a truce wasn’t about forgiving him. Maybe it was about choosing not to let him take up more space in your head than he already did.

So you let the tension in your shoulders ease, just barely, and gave a tight nod.

Not agreement. Just permission—to stop fighting for a minute.

“A truce.” You repeated again, but the word rooted in your mouth. There was a beat of silence before you spoke again. You exhaled, watching your breath fog in the cold air. “And what would be the terms of this truce?”

His gaze drifted forward, like he was choosing his next words carefully. He shifted his weight, his eyes flicking to you. “Okay. Terms of the truce.”

You crossed your arms, not quite looking at him. “You stop using your mom to get to me.”

He nodded, no sign of protest. “Fair. Then you stop looking at me like you’d rather walk into traffic than stand next to me.”

You arched an eyebrow. “I can’t promise that. But I’ll try to keep it subtle.” you said “Anything else?”

You saw the ghost of a smile appearing on his face. “No snapping at each other,” he said. “No snarky comments. No pretending the other person doesn’t exist.”

You hummed, unconvinced. 

“No dragging each other into arguments we don’t have to have,” he added. “We stay civil. We work together when we need to. We don’t make things harder than they already are.”

You glanced at him. “And what do we do when it gets hard anyway?”

He didn’t answer right away. For a moment, the only sound was the scrape of your shoes on the pavement.

You weren’t asking out of curiosity. You were asking because you knew yourself — knew how quickly your temper rose, how sharp your tongue could get when he looked at you the wrong way, or said something in that calm, unreadable tone that made you feel like you were the only one still bleeding from the past.

And Yoongi, in his usual way, was probably wondering if this was the part where you gave up, where you proved him right, that the two of you couldn’t exist in the same space without turning it into a battlefield.

But he didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

“We deal with it,” he said simply. “Like two people who can handle being in the same room.”

You stared straight ahead, your jaw tight. There was a sting in your chest you chose not to name.

“That’s a lot of rules,” you said.

“It’s just one,” Yoongi replied. “Don’t make each other miserable.”

You didn’t say yes. But you didn’t say no either.

And maybe — for now — that was the best either of you could offer.

Standing in the hall of Yoongi’s apartment felt like breaking a pact you’d made with yourself—an oath you swore years ago to never come back. You never thought you’d find yourself here again, walking down this hallway, watching him open the doors of the old elevator. It felt like a small betrayal, even if Yoongi didn’t live here anymore. 

Simon had told you Yoongi moved to an apartment near the center of town three years ago. Probably a tall building with a modern elevator, the kind that played music when you pushed the buttons, with white lights and a security guard at the entrance. Just like yours in the city.

It was hard to picture Yoongi there, in his old man sweaters and fuzzy socks, sitting by the window and looking out at the town. He didn’t seem like he belonged in a place like that. It felt like he only ever belonged here.

He closed the doors behind you and stood there, looking at the buttons before pressing the one for the fourth floor. You watched him as the yellowish lights illuminated his side profile, the curve of his nose, his hooded eyes. You looked without any kind of shame, allowing yourself to observe him: his long hair, the marks on his skin, the mole on his cheek just beside his nose, his eyelashes, the earring in his ear, and the empty holes from past piercings.

You couldn’t help but recall that winter night from four years ago every now and then, but now, standing here, it felt almost impossible not to. In the same place where he once pressed you against the wall and kissed you, it felt like it had happened just yesterday.

You remembered lying beside him, taking your time to memorize every detail like you had all the time in the world. And back then, it felt like you did. You counted the moles on his body, traced the veins along his hands and arms with your fingers, touched his lips, kissed his lips, his neck, his cheeks, his chest.

You didn’t remember ever kissing someone that much. You could almost swear that, even in your three-year relationship with Ian, you hadn’t kissed him as many times as you did in those three days spent in Yoongi’s old bedroom, on his bed, in his kitchen, on his couch, in his shower, against the wall, and against the floor.

You remembered kissing him in the morning light, when the sun came through the window and hit his face, making him scrunch his nose and close his eyes. But there was something entirely different about kissing him in the dark—between sheets and secrets and shaky breaths—something about the feeling of having him all to yourself that you could never forget. It was engraved in your memory, like the shape of his lips had been tattooed onto yours, and from then on, no kiss had ever felt the same.

You used to know him. Not only the way his body moved, or how his hand fit around your hips. Not just the vessel of his body, but the person he used to be. Inside and out, you knew him.

You didn’t notice earlier. You didn’t notice at The Alley or when you saw him at your house the day you arrived. It seemed to have escaped you—only now could you see that he looked tired. It wasn’t just that he looked older, or the long day he must have had at work today. It was something else.

You didn’t have time to wonder about it for too long. When the elevator shook, you looked away.

It took you less than two minutes to reach the door, and when Yoongi opened it and stepped aside to let you in, the warmth of the apartment hit you—then the smell. You hadn’t realized how tense you’d been on the way up. Now, you were surprised to feel weirdly comforted.

You both kicked your shoes off without thinking too much. You paused, sniffing the air. “Wait… is that—?”

“Doenjang jjigae,” he said, already pulling off his coat. “Mom said you liked it.”

You smiled before you could stop yourself. “I haven’t had it in forever.”

Yoongi disappeared down the hallway without another word, leaving you standing in the entryway, coat still on your shoulders, unsure if you should follow.  

You were still taking in the warmth and scent of the apartment when Nari appeared from the kitchen doorway, steady on her walker. The metal frame clinked softly against the floor as she moved towards you, a dish towel draped over one arm.

“Oh, there she is!” she said, eyes lighting up. “You’re already here!”

You smiled, stepping forward to meet her. “Hey, Nari.”

She opened her arms without letting go of the walker. “Come here, don’t be shy.” She gave you a quick hug, careful and slow. 

You leaned in for the hug, careful not to bump into the metal frame. Her embrace was as firm as ever, if a little slower to pull back.

“You didn’t have to cook just for me,” you said, even though the smell from the kitchen was already making your stomach growl. 

She waved you off. “Nonsense, I wanted to. And you’re too skinny. You still don’t eat breakfast, do you?”

You gave a small laugh, not quite answering. Behind her, Yoongi reappeared, carrying two sets of bowls. He glanced at the two of you, then cleared his throat.

“Uh, Mom—did Summer already leave?”

Nari looked over her shoulder. “Yes, she helped me chop vegetables and argued with me about how much salt to use. Then she left about an hour ago.” She turned back to you, smiling as she walked towards the table. “I didn’t tell her you were coming because she would’ve wanted to stay longer. She is such a fan of yours, you know?”

You smiled, not sure who she was talking about “She is?”

“Oh yes,” Nari said easily. “She’s my nurse. She’s been helping me around the house for a few months now. Sweet girl. Blonde, tall, always so well put-together. She said she saw you once—at that theater… what’s it called…?”

You blinked “The Alley?”

“Yes! That’s the one.” Nari nodded. “She mentioned seeing you there, said she didn’t want to bother you, but she was excited all week after that.”

You breath caught for a beat as you put two and two together. 

Yoongi glanced up from where he was setting the bowls, his hands slowing just slightly. His fingers hesitated over the chopsticks, then adjusted them again

You didn’t look at him. You didn’t have to.

It was her. The blonde girl outside The Alley. The one he’d shown up with. The one who kept looking at you like she wanted to say something but never did.

You stood there, trying not to think about how perfect she had looked standing next to Yoongi. Tall. Blonde. Model-like. The kind of girl who probably made people stare twice on the street—not because they recognized her, but because she was the type people noticed.

And she was a nurse. Of course she was.

You almost laughed, but the hole in your stomach didn’t let you. 

It was so unnecessary, such a waste of time to even think about it. Still, it was hard not to wonder, just for a second, if that was his type. Someone steady, soft-spoken and kind. Someone you were not. 

“Oh,” you said, quiet, folding your coat over your arm and smoothing the fabric a little too carefully. “I think I remember her.”

Yoongi’s jaw tightened—just barely—and he reached for the next bowl, though his grip looked a little too firm, like he was afraid he might drop it. Was this uncomfortable for him? Was it for you? 

“Oh? Really?” Nari asked, “I’ll tell her you did, she’ll lose her mind.” 

You smiled, what else could you do? 

Chasing the thoughts away, you let it go, like you were supposed to. 

A few moments later, the three of you were sitting at the table and you were grateful to be thinking of something else. The dining table wasn’t large, not like the one back at your family’s house, always too long, always full of guests. Here, everything felt more familiar, closer, like time didn’t pass at all inside this house. There was only ever Nari and Yoongi, and now there was you.

You tried to change the subject. “You should’ve invited Simon, too. He’s probably around, isn’t he?” You asked Nari.

Nari waved a hand, “Simon is here all the time, and he eats all the food. Besides” her eyes twinkled “I wanted it to be just you and Yoongi tonight.”

There was something innocent in her tone, offhanded even, but the words hung in the air a second too long. 

The evening settled into a quiet rhythm after that.

The doenjang jjigae steamed between you, warm and familiar, and the table slowly filled with other dishes — kimchi, anchovies, steamed egg, bowls of white rice. You found yourself relaxing, bit by bit, lulled by the sound of chopsticks against ceramic, the occasional clink of glasses being refilled, and Nari’s steady voice weaving from one topic to the next. 

She talked about her book club, the women at the community center who were always getting into harmless gossip. She talked about her last checkup, her doctor’s advice to cut back on salt and how she, of course, had ignored it.

You enjoyed listening to her, your flushed face resting in your hands, leaning over the table and laughing every time she said something funny. But all she really wanted to talk about was you, even if you’d rather talk about anything else in the world

“So, are you working on another movie?” Nari asked. “We went to see your last one with Yoongi. We loved it.”

You smiled, eyebrows lifting in surprise, finding that very funny for some reason. “You did?” you said, glancing at him. 

“Of course. It was so sad, he almost cried,” she added, nodding towards him.

You snorted. “You cried?”

Yoongi kept his eyes on the bowl. “I didn’t.”

Nari rolled her eyes. “He did.”

“I had allergies,” he muttered.

“During summer?” You asked. 

He looked at you, shaking his head, not willing to answer. You bit back at smirk. 

You tried to imagine Yoongi buying tickets for your movie last summer—walking into the theater, sitting there for two hours, watching you. You tried to imagine him taking advantage of the darkness to let himself cry, then leaving, trying to forget about it and go on with his day. It was a strange image. You had never mixed that part of your life with this one—mainly because this was the part you'd left behind. But you’d never really stopped to consider that your life kept happening everywhere, even if you weren’t there to see it.

“There is no shame in crying during movies.” Nari said, being unaware of the two of you. “You pick very sad ones, dear.”

You laughed softly. “Well, they only ever want me for sad films these days,” you said, lifting your glass. “They tell me I have sad eyes. Whatever that means.”

Nari tilted her head, studying you closely. “You do have a melancholic stare, sweetheart. But it’s a beautiful thing. You say more with your eyes than you do with your voice.”

You caught the faint smile that tugged at Yoongi’s lips as he stared into his bowl.

“Thanks, I guess,” you said, returning the smile, warmth spreading in your chest. “I just hope that doesn’t get me in trouble.” You leaned back slightly, more at ease now. “But no, I don’t have any projects at the moment. I want to spend more time with my mom—sleep more, eat more... Besides, I took a job at the theater, so I’ll be busy with that until December.”

“Right, Yoongi mentioned that,” Nari said, folding her hands together with a small smile. “He said everyone was happy to see you again. How long has it been?”

You glanced away, trying to remember the last time you'd been at The Alley. The dates blurred together.

“Two years ago,” Yoongi said before you could answer.

You turned to him in surprise. He cleared his throat.

“You were there for the Bong Joon-ho week,” he added, not quite meeting your eyes. “Memories of murder.”

You nodded slowly, the memory coming back immediately, but he wasn’t part of it. 

“I don’t remember seeing you there…” You said, feeling the weight of the sudden silence of the room. 

He looked away, “I was there, I just… sat very close to the back.” 

Your lips parted, then curved into a polite smile. “Well, it’s been a while.” You turned back to Nari, keeping your tone light. “But honestly, not much has changed over there.”

Nari leaned in slightly. “So, what are you doing there, exactly?”

“She’s working with the kids,” Yoongi cut in, quick to respond. 

You flicked your eyes towards him, not irritated—just surprised at how ready he was to speak for you.

Nari brightened. “That sounds so sweet. I’m sure they’re thrilled.”

“They are,” Yoongi added. “They’re obsessed with her. She’s kind of a big deal.”

You gave a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Hardly. I just showed up. They’re the ones doing all the real work.”

She looked at you with a bright expression. “You’re being modest.”

 “No, really. I just wanted to help. They’re so enthusiastic. It’s kind of impossible not to get pulled in.”

“What are you doing with them?”

“Mostly helping them rehearse, learn lines, fix costumes. Nothing too dangerous.”

Yoongi laughed under his breath. “She’s being humble. She’s running the show.”

“Well…”

“And doing it well. Even if she nearly bit my head off the first day.” He casually mentioned, catching you off guard. 

It was still strange — how easy this seemed to him. To bring you back here, look at you in the eyes, the teasing, the warmth, the casual way he slipped back into before, like nothing had happened. Like he could just talk to you like that.

It wasn’t that you hated it. It made you nervous.

This was the point of the truce, being civil, not picking at old wounds. But still, it felt like he was settling into something softer, something that didn’t exist anymore. Like he wanted something gentler from you, and wasn’t even aware of it. 

And maybe the worst part was… you kept letting him. Not because you’d forgiven him. Not because you weren’t still angry. But because there was something in the way he looked at you tonight — cautious and familiar — that made it hard to stay guarded all the way through.

You rolled your eyes. “That was entirely your fault.”

Nari let out a laugh, eyes dancing between you both. “You two had a fight? How shocking.”

“It wasn’t a fight…” you murmured, glancing sideways at Yoongi with a look that wasn’t quite sharp but definitely not warm. “It was just… a disagreement.”

“I was just trying to help,” he said, lifting his hands in mock defense. “Provide legal advice for the screenplay.”

“You weren’t hired to be a lawyer,” you shot back, a hint of amusement in your tone. “Not on Saturdays, at least.”

“I’m always a lawyer, Pinky.”

The nickname hung in the air a second longer than it should’ve. But this time, you didn’t flinch.

You looked at him for a second, biting your lip. You wanted to say something, but turned to his mom instead, deciding to ignore it. “See, Nari. That’s the thing with lawyers, they always need to be right.”

“That sounds very much like Yoongi.” She chuckled, clearly enjoying this. “But don’t let the whole lawyer act fool you, dear. He’s been like that since forever. Always has to get the last word, even if it’s nonsense.”

You let out a soft breath of laughter. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me. I already know.”

“C’mon,” Yoongi cut in, nudging the air between you, “you’re exactly the same.”

You tilted your head, giving him a mock-frown. “Except I’m actually always right.”

Nari hummed thoughtfully, her smile not quite innocent. “Well, I don’t know who’s right, but I do know I hate seeing you two fight.” 

You looked down at your fingers on the table, avoiding her eyes. 

“We’ll try not to.” Yoongi said, and it felt like a promise. 

“Anyway,” you said, catching your breath, “the kids are very committed. And the place needs all the help it can get, so I’ll be there for a while.”

Yoongi nodded, quieter this time. “It’s good that you’re there.”

You glanced at him. He wasn’t teasing now. And for a moment, it made the air feel heavier — not in a bad way, but enough to make you blink and look back at your plate.

Nari, thankfully, filled the space with a soft “That theater’s lucky to have you, sweetheart.”

You smiled at her, grateful. “Thanks. I think I needed it too.”

As the night slipped away, you let yourself fall into a kind of quiet familiarity you hadn’t felt in a long time, while you and Yoongi washed the dishes. Nari sat by the window, watching the two of you with the soft scrutiny only a mother can offer, remarking that Yoongi looked taller lately, that your skirt was too thin for a cold night like this, and that Yoongi should straighten his posture. 

“You two make a good team.” She said, observing Yoongi hand you a pair of clean glasses. 

You laughed, but neither of you said anything to contradict her, you wouldn’t dare to. 

You stayed in the kitchen a little longer, watching the rain return, soft against the glass. That’s when Nari suggested Yoongi drive you home—it was late, after all. 

You didn’t argue. You had spent the whole evening with him, you were sure you could endure another five minutes in his presence if that meant you didn’t have to pay an Uber. 

When it was time to leave, you hugged Nari goodbye. She held on a little longer than expected, her hands soft and familiar against your back. 

“You’ll come next week for tea, right?” she asked, giving you a look that wasn’t really a question.

You smiled, nodding. “Of course.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.” She patted your cheek like she used to, and then turned towards the hallway. 

“Come on, Yoongi, help me with the stupid pills.” Yoongi shot you a glance—apologetic, maybe—but didn’t say anything as he followed her down the hall. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Sleep tight, Nari.” You smiled, watching them disappear as you waited in the kitchen.

Their voices drifted in and out. Nari asked where she’d left her robe. Yoongi reminded her not to mix up the bottles. A drawer opened, something clinked shut. You listened to him saying goodbye to her, it was the kind of domestic rhythm you weren’t supposed to be a part of. 

A moment passed before Yoongi came back to the kitchen, with a small smile on his face as he gestured to the door. You repeated the same cycle in reverse: you put on your coats, took the elevator down in silence, walked the hallway and waited for him to unlock the door.

The rain fell over you as soon as you put foot on the streets, so you hurried to get to Yoongi’s car. He opened the door for you and you got in, sinking into the seat as you watched him walk around the car and get it. When he started the engine, the radio came on automatically, playing some Jeff Buckley song, so low you could barely hear it.

He’d changed his car, you noticed. You didn’t know anything about cars, but this one was bigger than the last—more modern. Yoongi’s old car had a busted, almost ancient stereo, and under his seat, there was a folder of CDs he used to let you choose from every time you were in the car with him. You repressed the urge to ask if he still had it. 

“Thank you for coming,” he said softly, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You looked at him briefly, but his eyes were fixed on the road. “I had a good time. You don’t have to thank me…”

He nodded. “I know, but still…” He paused, his eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road. “It’s been a long time.”

You just hummed, refusing to acknowledge such a thing as time.

A silence settled between you, the hum of the engine filling the space. Yoongi’s jaw tightened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face.

“Was that true?” you asked suddenly. “That thing your mom said about the movie, that you cried?”

The question didn’t seem to surprise him, but he hesitated to answer for a second. “Maybe… Perhaps I teared up a little.” 

You pressed your lips together, eager to know more. “Can I ask why?”

His fists clenched around the steering wheel, but he did not look at you. “You’re good at making people cry, I guess.” He said, his tone even. “You’re good.”

You sank deeper into the seat, feeling your heart slightly clenching. 

By the time you arrive at Minnie's apartment, there was still something lingering in the air. Something you were both hoping to let go tonight. This wasn’t quite a closure, not even a goodbye. You weren’t sure if it would ever be something such as that.

The car stopped. The rain kept falling over you, and it was time to call it a night.

You looked at him for a moment before opening the door. Your gaze crashed into his, and for the briefest second, you felt electrified.

Another song from the same album kept playing softly. The engine was still running. The windows were all fogged up. You had nothing to prove there, nothing left to lose that night. In that moment, you could admit it: he was right—you were part of his life, and he was part of yours.

There had been something between you then, just as there was now, and somehow, you knew there always would be. You had just never known what to call it, and maybe that was what made it linger.

“Good night, Yoongi,” you said, opening the door and letting the chill of the night sneak into the car.

“Good night, Pinky.” He let out, like a breath he had been holding for too long. 

Then, you disappeared into the night. 

One of the many reasons you’d been at odds with this town since you were young was the lingering suspicion that it was cursed. Not cursed like in horror movies, where kids disappeared or something tragic happened every other day, but the kind of curse that quietly followed you around—the kind that hovered over you at the bus stop. It was in the dark winter evenings, in the sound of autumn leaves dragging across the street as you walked home at night, in the stillness of time as it passed. It was the frightening feeling that nothing ever changed.

In the city, everything was ever-changing. Everything was shiny and new, and every night felt different from the one before. There were moments when everything seemed fine—when you were convinced this was the life you were meant to lead all along, and your heart felt full, your soul complete, and no one could ever take it away from you.

But there were other moments, brief moments, when you walked down the street alone at night and could still hear the autumn leaves dragging across the pavement, following you home.

Over time, you began to realize that maybe your hometown was just a small town like any other. You supposed it was normal to bump into people you’d rather not see at the grocery store, at the theater, even in your own house. But then, as you grew up, another fear surged from the pit of your stomach: the suspicion that maybe you were the one who was bewitched, that you were the one carrying the curse wherever you went.

You thought you were almost used to it—the breakup with Ian, the leaked pictures, seeing Yoongi in your home the night you arrived, and running into him at The Alley days later. The more you tried to avoid it, the more it seemed to find you. But this time, it caught you off guard. 

The coffee shop down the street from The Alley had always been your favorite. It was small, so small you could hear the people talking down in the kitchen and the barista complaining about her ex boyfriend. There was a whole wall filled with books and you could grab any one you wanted to read as you were waiting for your order. You always sat in the farthest corner of the room, next to the books, in a tiny table for two next to a tall lamp shaped like a flower and pretended to work on your laptop or read the same storybook for the tenth time. 

No one bothered you here, no one ever did, not until now.

You heard the bell ring as the door opened and two people stepped inside. You were never particularly interested in who came or went—you always kept your nose buried in your book and gave little thought to anyone who wasn’t you. But for the first time that afternoon, you looked up.

A gust of wind slipped through the doorway, lifting Summer’s hair before it fell perfectly back into place as Yoongi stepped in behind her and closed the door.

Ugh.

Not this again. The curse. 

You dropped your gaze back to your book instantly, pretending to be oblivious as you took another sip of your cup of coffee. You tried to stay focused on the story, staring at the same sentence on the page until it blurred, but the sound of chairs scraping against the floor made you want to take a look again. 

They choose a table by the window. Not close to you, but not far enough either. Not far enough not to notice your quiet presence. 

Summer. The name Yoongi mentioned the other night. It resonated in your head as you tried to come back to the story, but it seemed to infect each one your thoughts. What kind of name was that anyway? Summer, like flowers and the sun, ice cream and the beach. Summer, it sounded like something made up, soft and sweet, effortless. Around here, girls had names like Claire or Melissa. Summer felt like a fantasy, the kind of girl you don’t usually see in this town. Like the kind of girl you became if you got everything right on the first try. the kind of girl you used to pretend not to hate when you were in nursing school, wondering if you’d ever feel like you belonged anywhere. 

Summer. Bright and easy and blonde. It figured. 

God, now you sounded like a bitch. You didn’t know her. You hadn’t even talked to her. You were building entire stories in your head like a deranged person. 

You shook the thought off before it could stick too long — there were better things to waste your time on. Like the fucking book in your hands that you couldn’t, for the life of you, manage to finish.

And when you were about to look away, your eyes landed on him. 

Still standing. White shirt, black cardigan, hand resting on the back of a chair, mid-motion, like he’d been about to sit but got caught. Watching you.

Yoongi’s eyes locked with yours. There it was—surprise, recognition, something like hesitation. Then, a pause too long to be casual, he lifted his hand in a small, clumsy wave.

Not thinking much, you waved back before your mind processed it. Just a nod of acknowledgment. It didn’t have to be awkward. And yet, it was.

You glanced back at your book, wondering if you were supposed to revisit the terms of whatever agreement you had now. Were you expected to wave in public? Even when no one was watching? Why did you have to acknowledge him at all, especially when he was clearly here with someone else?

Whatever. In any case, you supposed this was the whole point of the truce: to share a space, to be civil and polite and blah, blah, blah. It bored you just thinking about it.

You turned back to your book. Or tried to—because the sound of his voice carried through the room, low and steady, filling every corner like smoke. You couldn’t make out the words, but that didn’t stop your brain from trying.

You closed your eyes and sighed. Still, you found yourself straining to decode what he might be saying, or why she kept laughing like that.

Determined, you stared at the same page for the third time, willing yourself to focus. This time, you told yourself, you were going to make it through. You were this close to slipping back into the story.

A few minutes passed. Enough for the noise around you to dull into background static, for the text to finally start sinking in. You managed to stay focused on the story, your fingers pressed lightly to the page as if that could anchor you there.

You didn’t notice the shadow at first. Just a shift in the air beside you, a faint rustle of movement, a shadow. Then the creak of the chair across from you being pulled out.

When you looked up, Yoongi was already sitting down.

Your heart jumped before your expression could catch up. He wasn’t looking at you, not yet, he was settling in like he had a reason to be there, like this wasn’t strange.

Had he walked over without you noticing? Had he said something first?

You hadn’t heard a thing.

“Hi,” he said—soft, hesitant.

You blinked.

“Hi?” you echoed, the book still in your hands.

“Hi,” he repeated.

You narrowed your eyes. “Is there… something wrong?” you asked quietly, sneaking a glance toward the girl he’d just left at the other table. She met your eyes, then quickly looked away.

“No, not at all…” he muttered, shifting in his seat.

“Then… may I ask why you’re sitting at my table?”

He sat at the edge of the chair, like he didn’t plan to stay long. He looked almost nervous—almost, because Yoongi never looked nervous. He was always put together, always with his shit together.

“Uhm… yes,” he began, slow and steady, like this wasn’t completely awkward. “You know Summer, I think. She’s right there. She’s… a friend.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A friend?” The laugh threatened to slip out, but you bit it back.

“She’s a big fan of yours,” he said, smoothing his hands over his knees like he needed something to do with them. His voice was careful, almost rehearsed.

“So I’ve heard,” you replied, lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “That must be fun for you.”

Yoongi let out a quiet breath, eyes closing briefly like he was trying not to react. You watched the flicker of tension in his jaw before he forced his features back into something neutral.

“She’s been asking me for a while… if I could get you to sign something for her.”

“For her?” You tilted your head, just slightly.

He nodded once.

Yoongi was a lot of things, sure—but you never thought he was this much of a fucking idiot.

Honestly, you almost wanted to laugh. The fact that he had the audacity to come over to your table, while you were minding your own business, just to ask for an autograph—for a girl—was nearly hilarious.

Oh, but you were going to make sure he knew that.

“Because she’s my fan, you’re saying?” You asked, just because you wanted another confirmation. Of all the girls Yoongi could date, he chose the one who was your number one fan. He nodded again, this time with more hesitation. “Did you already tell her no? Because that’s my answer.”

“Yes, I already told her no, but she insisted.” He sighed. “Many times, actually.”

“That’s cute.” You smiled, voice laced with amusement. “Did you watch my movies with her too, or was that part too awkward?”

He glanced away, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was biting back a retort. “Come on…”

“I’m not on celebrity duty right now,” you said, flipping the page of your book without looking at it. 

“I know, I know…” He sighed again, shifting in his seat. His knee bumped the table lightly. “She didn’t want to bother you. She’s shy. So she asked me. Because… she knows I know you.”

Your eyes stayed fixed on the page, but your mouth twitched.

That was one way to describe you had sex, you wanted to say.

The truth was that you didn’t have a problem with an autograph. It was bitter, you knew, you could easily do it, but you simply did not want to. 

“Sounds like you really wanted me to say yes so you wouldn’t have to say no to her.” You pouted. 

Yoongi exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh but not quite. “I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

Well, you were wrong, you thought.

“I told you, I’m practically on vacation.” You leaned back, eyeing him. “I’m not giving you an autograph so you can fuck some chick.”

He shut his eyes for a second, like he was counting to ten. “She’s my mom’s nurse.”

You shrugged. “I’m not giving you an autograph so you can fuck your mom’s nurse.”

He shook his head, biting back a laugh, then ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Can you just—do me a favor?”

“Why would I?” you challenged, chuckling.

He shrugged, voice low. “Honestly? I don’t know, maybe because she likes you.”

“Or because you like her?” you teased, pressing your palms together like you were praying for him. “I mean… doesn’t she mind?” You gave him a squinting look, full of fake concern. “Isn’t she the jealous type?”

“No—well, I don’t know. We’re not... it’s not like that.”

You raised an eyebrow, holding his gaze. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze flicking towards Summer, who was pretending not to look over.

He stayed quiet for a moment, staring down at the book in front of you—anything to avoid looking at you.

Then, just as he opened his mouth to plead one last time for the favor, you noticed her. Walking straight towards you, a bright, fixed smile on her face, like she was ready to hug you right then and there.

Before you could blink, Summer pulled a chair and slipped in between the two of you.

She settled into it like she owned the place, her smile steady as she glanced between you and Yoongi.

“Hi, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I felt weird just standing over there,” she said. You stayed there, with your mouth half open, you couldn’t find the words to answer. “I’m Summer, nice to meet you.”

She extended her hand awkwardly, and you hesitated before taking it. Despite what Yoongi said, she didn’t look shy at all. 

“Uh… hi?”

She laughed nervously, the bubbly sound filling your ears.

“I hope we’re not bothering you. Yoongi told me you two have been childhood friends.”

You forced a small, polite smile, carefully folding your hands on the table. “Nice to meet you, Summer.” Your voice was calm, but your eyes narrowed just slightly—this was not exactly how you pictured your afternoon going.

Yoongi shifted uneasily in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck like he’d just walked into a minefield. The sight of Summer sitting so close, so casual, made him visibly tense, his usual composure nowhere to be found.

“So,” you said, keeping your tone light but deliberate, “Yoongi mentioned you wanted my autograph?”

Summer’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a hint of nervous energy beneath it. “Yeah, I’m a big fan, I adored you in Dog Days.” she said, glancing at Yoongi for reassurance.

He cleared his throat, eyes darting between you both. “If it’s not too much trouble….” he added, sounding more like he was begging than asking.

You looked at Yoongi through your lashes, silently cursing him for putting you in this position. But then again, he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, too.

And you, more than anything, wanted to be an asshole and say no. You didn’t owe them anything, you’d been enjoying your time alone before they walked in, before both of them sat beside you like they were invited. You could say no.

You meant what you said: you were on vacation. You didn’t want to be a celebrity here, not now, not after everything that happened with Ian and the press. And even if you knew that signing a piece of paper wouldn’t truly disturb your peace, you still didn’t want to.

Of course, it wasn’t about the autograph. It was about her—bright and sweet and everything you weren’t. And it was about him—sitting with her, making her laugh, trying to impress her with your signature, stumbling to your table like he didn’t know how much it bothered you to see him there.

Well. You had to remind yourself you were trying not to be a bitch.

And sure, you’d agreed to a truce, though at this point, it was starting to feel like bullshit. Why did it seem like this truce benefited him more than you? What was in it for you? 

Whatever, it was fine, it wouldn’t kill you to sign an autograph, not completely, at least. 

You reached for your bag, and searched for a loose pen between your books. 

“Well, I’m not exactly working today, but I suppose I can’t say no to my old friend’s... friend.”

Yoongi let out a relieved breath, though the tension didn’t fully leave his shoulders. 

You grabbed a piece of paper and signed it, your eyes catching Summer’s excited smile. You briefly wondered what she was going to do with it. 

No one asked you for autographs these days, only outside the theater after a performance, and even then, it was almost always just programs. But you were kind of grateful for that. You could handle signing a piece of paper, but not taking a picture with Summer. She would post it somewhere, tag you, and then maybe you’d have to see it—see the difference between the two of you captured forever, impossible to forget, impossible to erase from your memory.

You didn’t know why you were feeling so insecure, it was like you were fourteen years old all over again, like you were uncomfortable in your own skin. 

When you handed her the paper, she smiled and said thank you, and you knew that was your cue to go. You didn’t want to be here anymore.

You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. “Okay, guys. I’m leaving.”

She looked up at you with wide eyes, visibly disappointed. “Already?” she asked, as if you’d ever planned on staying.

“Yeah, I’ve got work to do at The Alley, you know, the Halloween party and all…” you said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. You had offered to help organize the party. But right now, it made a perfect excuse to get out of this mess.

“Oh, will you be there?” She asked, hopeful. 

You pressed your lips together and nodded. “Yeah, of course.” You were obligated to say you were going, even if you changed your mind at the last minute. You and Minnie had agreed it would help boost ticket sales if people knew you’d be there.

“That’s amazing, we’ll be there for sure. Right, Yoongi?” she said, nudging his arm.

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a small nod. “Yeah. For sure.”

You grabbed your wallet and left a tip, ready to leave. “See you, then.” 

Then, you walked to the door, stepping outside. 

The cold hit you before you even made it down the steps, sharp and bracing — a reminder that it was still autumn, no matter how much someone like Summer could make it feel like June inside.

You tried not to think about it as you crossed the street, going back to The Alley. This wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn’t how you imagined things happening. 

You didn’t want to be in the same room as Yoongi and his new girl. You didn’t want to make small talk, or pretend to be okay with all of it. You’d grown strangely comfortable with your resentment — it had kept you warm, in a way. You’d never really wanted a truce. There was a thought, a bitter little thing, that crept in during your worst moments: if you couldn’t forget, then maybe you didn’t want to forgive either.

You didn’t want him to smile at you, to be polite and correct and show you kindness. You wanted him to look at you and be reminded of every single thing he said to you. You wanted it to make his stomach squirm. You wanted him to avoid your gaze, to feel the need to leave the room every time you walked in — because there was no universe where you could both share oxygen without suffocating each other trying.

It was strange, but you couldn’t stop the thought. You couldn’t stop the feeling.

You wanted a shiver to run down his spine every time he looked at you, because the only thing he could see in your eyes was the memory of that night.

And maybe, by wishing that, you were admitting that the last bits of your sanity had disappeared the moment he offered one of those kind smiles. Because you’d rather know it hurt him to see you than believe he felt nothing at all.

You didn’t look back. But inside, behind the window, Yoongi did.

Four years ago

It wasn’t a surprise for you to know that Yoongi was a patient man. He never rushed things;  he knew how to wait, he knew the precise moments to act and when to hold back. Tonight was no exception. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry, taking his time as if the world had all the hours to spare just for you and him, he knew that the night itself was in his pocket.

He wasn’t wrong—the night was just beginning, and there was no reason to escape, rush, or leave early. But at this moment, you were anything but patient—not because you didn’t know how to wait, but because you had already waited long enough. From the way his fingers grazed your thighs during the car ride home to the kisses in the elevator, your impatience was growing rapidly. Every second felt drawn out, and you kept wondering how he could ignore the tension in the air, how you were sick with anticipation, on edge, waiting for his hands to touch you the way you truly wanted.

“It unzips from the back.” You whispered, breaking the silence of the quiet room. 

He saw your bright wide eyes shining in the dark, your swollen red lips and a strap of your dress falling off your shoulder, almost feeling guilty for all the things he was thinking of doing to you. 

“I know.” He breathed out, as if he hadn’t studied every part of your dress just hours before; where the zipper was, how long it was, how long it would take him to take it off.

You looked like you’d stepped out of one of his summer dreams, the kind that pulled him from his sleep, breathless and soaked in sweat in the middle of the night. Only this time he didn’t have to close his eyes and try to enter the same illusion again, he didn’t have to imagine the ending, he had you right there.

His lips moved slowly against yours, taking his time as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring every inch as though he wanted the moment to last forever. He ventured one hand up your back, searching for the zipper of your dress and finding it with ease. With a smooth tug, he pulled it down in one motion, leaving it loose. A tingling excitement swept through you as his hands slid beneath your dress, dragging the shiny fabric upwards against your skin, pulling it over your head to leave you almost naked, wearing only your underwear. 

A chill traced its way down your spine, and a cold breeze swept over your body. If you weren’t so turned on by the way he was looking at you—his dark eyes roaming over you, absorbing the sight of you—you’d be embarrassed about the fact that the only piece of clothing under that dress were your black lace panties, but the man on top of you didn’t seem bothered at all, in fact, he seemed more than satisfied.

His hands were soft against your skin, he ran his fingers down your waist, your hips and over the lace waistband of your panties, making your pulse accelerate. “You're so beautiful.” He mumbled, out of breath.

"You think?" You whispered. He bit his bottom lip, nodding as his palms slowly made their way up your torso, pressing your breasts, squeezing on the flesh and brushing his thumbs over your hardening tips. You let out a quiet whimper, arching your back to meet his touch. Yoongi immediately felt tight in his pants like he was a teenager. 

You quickly became addicted to his touch—the way his lips kissed yours with a fervor that ignited every nerve in your body, how he nipped playfully at your skin, leaving a trail of electric anticipation in their wake. The way he held you tightly, as if to ensure you wouldn’t move, but you weren’t going anywhere.

“Hm, and hot." He said, trailing open mouth kisses down your neck, nibbling your skin as if he was determined to mark it. His lips traveled from your collarbone to the valley of your breasts, you felt his breath against your skin and then his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue back and forth as his other hand brushed your other breast with his thumb just for the sake of driving you crazy. Yoongi was gentle, his moves were painfully slow, you couldn’t help but choke back a moan, arching your back forward already feeling dizzy. “I dreamt of having you like this” He breathed out, his lips going to your other breast, kissing your skin and leaving you undone. “So pretty and soft, all mine.”

You were sure he could see how his words affected you, that and the feeling of the fabric of his pants grazing over your core tortuously, his heavy breath and his hands over your body made you want to shut your legs off, clenching around nothing. “Yoongi…” You sighed, trying to sound firm but inevitably failing.  He hummed, pulling away before leaving a wet kiss on your skin. “This is not fair.” You huffed, making him gaze up, finding your hooded eyes observing him with furrowed eyebrows.  “How come you’re still dressed?”

For a moment, he wanted to laugh, but from the way you grabbed his shirt as if you wanted to rip it off, you seemed dead serious. The fact that you were practically naked in his bed wasn’t going to change your attitude towards him, and Yoongi knew that more than anyone; if there was one thing he had learned over the years was not to make you angry and even if you were far from being discontent, he was not trying to tempt the devil.

The confused look on Yoongi’s face melted away, placing a cheeky smirk on his lips right after. “I almost forgot how bossy you are.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, covering your breasts.  

“Am I bossy?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. He did not miss the warning tone that lingered on your voice. 

“You are… really cute.” He answered, dodging your question as he watched your frown disappear from your face, you smiled, accepting the compliment. He quickly unfastened all the buttons of his shirt, taking it off and throwing it away somewhere in the room, he was pleased to grant your wishes.

You bit your bottom lip, satisfied. It was a rare sight; you could count the amount of times that you saw Yoongi shirtless, including that one time last summer—but it was different this time, his frame was broader and his shoulders were wider, you could notice the subtle definition of his arms, of his chest, you swore it could drive you insane. Fuck that damn gym.

“This too?” He asked, his fingers tightening around the belt of his pants. You looked at him through your lashes, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. 

“That too.” You nodded eagerly, and he had no choice but to comply with your instructions; you were observing every move he made as you laid on his bed, with your hair scattered across the pillow looking at him like you could ask anything from him and he would give it to you. He wasted no time, straightened up and unbuckled his pants, managing to get rid of them easily. 

He bent close to you, his face inches away from yours as he locked your gaze with you, his hands reaching for the only piece of clothing that prevented you from being fully naked “What about this?” He asked, playfully curling his fingers on the waistband of your panties, his hot breath hitting your mouth. 

A tingling sensation filled you, and goosebumps spread across your skin as his fingers moved down your center, slipping between your tights and pushing your panties aside, gently gliding through your wet folds. He was careful, rubbing slow circles on your clit, teasing your entrance as if he were mocking you, playing with you. “Should I take this off?” His deep voice resonated in your ears. 

In a matter of seconds you felt yourself becoming completely vulnerable. You tilted your head, trying not to close your eyes. “Please…” You let out in a weak whisper, feeling your skin getting warmer. 

“Please?” He chuckled. “Please what?” 

You had been instantly pushed into a trance, you were too lost in the sensation to be embarrassed by how wet you already were. “Please, take it off…” You said, being washed by a wave of pleasure every time his finger taunted your entrance, only to come back to your clit, sending you closer and closer to the edge.

You were sure that with a few quick movements you could do that by yourself, but there was something about Yoongi being in control that made your stomach turn, and there was something about you, uncomfortably squirming under him, slowly moving your hips to meet his fingers and patiently waiting for his next move that made Yoongi feel like a caveman. 

“And then?” He continued to ask, “What should I do next?”

Then, like he knew exactly what buttons to push, he sank two of his fingers into you, curling inside you without further notice. You gasped softly, but the answer got stuck in your throat, lost in a sea of thoughts. One of his hands firmly gripped your thigh, spreading you out so he could have a better access to your pussy, sinking his fingers and pulling away so he could toy with your sensitive clit. 

You gripped his shoulders to find some balance while his fingers pulled out, gathering your wetness to fuck you again without hurry, taking his time so he could watch every expression you made, the soft frown in your face, your slightly parted lips, the way you bit your lip everytime you were about to make a loud sound, you were crumbling apart for him slowly, almost without noticing.

You shut your eyes, “Yoongi…” You moaned out.

“Yes?” 

You bit your lips, struggling to find the words. His voice sounded so gentle but his actions were so evil, you never imagined that Yoongi was going to be this bad, mocking and teasing you for his own satisfaction, and somehow, it felt like he fell from the sky just for you. 

“You’re being mean…” You whimpered, rolling your head back against the pillow. He slithered his hands over your chest, playing with your breast as you rolled your center against his hand, trying to chase the feeling. “Don’t play with me.”

Your voice and your words were laced with sin, he had never heard you talk in such a soft and tender manner, even if you were practically threatening him. 

Yoongi was aware he could only push the teasing so far, not only because you were too eager, but he also had to consider how tight he was feeling in his boxers, he knew he was in no position to keep playing with you. Still, he smirked, satisfied as he observed the way you melted in his hand. 

He brushed his nose over yours “What, do you want me to stop?” He said, a mocking tone in his voice. You would’ve been furious with him in any other scenario, but in this particular one you couldn’t help but feel completely flustered. 

You let out the most pathetic mewl sound you ever heard, shaking your head. 

“Mmm, thought so.” He chuckled, closing the distance between the two of you to catch your lips between his teeth and wrapped you in a fervent kiss. With an urgency, he grabbed a handful of your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he tilted your head to the side and opening his mouth wide open, deepening the kiss. It seemed like the only right way to be kissed; hard, sloppy and messy, he eagerly licked your tongue in your mouth and managed to erase every coherent thought in your mind as he kept fucking you with his fingers, making you moan into his mouth.

It felt too good, his body against yours, his lips kissing you as if he was about to devour you, his fingers grazing over your clit every time he pulled them out of your pussy just to push them deep down inside you again. You wished you could prolong the moment for a few more seconds, but the familiar tight feeling on your stomach warned you that you were dangerously close to your climax.

Yoongi, incapable of keeping it together any longer, pulled his fingers out at the same time he broke the kiss apart, making you finch. You whined in protest, but he left a small kiss in the corner of your lips in hopes to keep you content. 

“Stop torturing me…” You said, already feeling frustrated. 

“Is this what you call torture?” Yoongi scoffed, his voice hoarse. He reached for the nightstand next to his bed, pulling open the drawer. You heard his hand quickly going over some clutter, removing things until he finally found what he was searching for. “What about me? Watching you about to cum while I’m fucking hard.” 

Your eyes inevitably traveled south, observing the outline of his cock under his tight boxers. You gulped, that view was enough to send a shiver down your spine. Even if he was struggling a bit with the whole situation, Yoongi knew he could die happily right there, he could not complain at all. 

When Yoongi noticed the way you were ogling him, your thoughts drifting elsewhere, he tried to catch your attention by holding up the small condom package in front of your face, its glossy surface glinting under the light. “Open it.” He just said. 

You paused for a brief second, then decisively bit the foil, opening it with your teeth.

Fuck. 

If Yoongi wasn’t completely hard before, now he felt he could explode right in this moment. 

“Fuck, you might kill me tonight," He breathed, surrender evident in his voice as his gaze lingered on you, trying maintaining his composure, though impatience was beginning to creep into his demeanor. You couldn’t help but smile. “Now let me take these off” He said, hooking one of his fingers on the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs and taking them off. You bit your lips in anticipation, watching the piece of clothing disappear from your eyesight. 

“It wasn’t that difficult after all.” You murmured, making him laugh. You would never miss an opportunity to pick a fight with him. 

“God, Pinky. Do you ever shut up?” He said, gripping the back of your thighs and bringing you closer to him. You rolled your eyes, but your attitude didn’t last very long; the next thing you saw were his hands, pushing down his underwear to let his cock spring free, almost making you choke with your own saliva. 

You suddenly shifted yourself up onto your elbows, ever so dramatic. “Yoongi…” You cried, giving him more than one reason to feel cocky right now. “I don’t know if I can take that.” A smirk tugged from the corners of his lips, one of his hands traveling down his length to jerk himself off, determined to drive you insane. You should’ve imagined that the fact that Yoongi was so confident and cocky was directly connected to how big he was; you wanted to punch him just for that alone. This wasn’t fair at all. 

Yoongi laughed, rolling the condom onto himself and shaking his head, not paying real attention to your concern. He settled himself between your legs, dragging his crown between your wet folds, you barely managed to bite back a moan, throwing your head against the pillows. “You’re soaking wet, baby. You can take it.” His voice sounded so deep it vibrated in your ears, the weight of his words filled with lust and the gentle feeling of the tip of his cock resting on your entrance were so overwhelming it almost made you miss the new endearment, but you heard it just right, even if you felt like were in the brink of madness, aching to feel him inside you.

“Then, hurry up.” You whined, wrapping your legs around his waist. He chucked at that, never in a million years he thought he would have you like that, trapped under him, with a frown on your face, urging him to hurry up. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it. 

“No need to rush, we have all night.” He simply said, as if he was purposefully trying to annoy you, but the truth was that, as patient as he could be, having you naked under him and not being inside you was beginning to do a number on him, too.

You let out a cry when he sank into you, slowly guiding himself deep inside your pussy, groaning. Your whole body burned in flames, but it felt too good. “Take everything for me, be a good girl.” He said, his gaze meeting the way you sucked him whole, you were too far gone to make sense of anything else. Your whole body burned in flames, but it felt too good, you gasped when he pushed a leg against your torso, burying himself inside you and reaching your deepest point, you’ve never felt that full. “Look at that— fuck, you fit me just right.”

“Fuck. Yoongi, I-” You attempted to form a coherent sentence, furrowing your eyebrows as you felt his cock stretching you open, leaving you breathless. 

“How’s that, hmh?” 

Lacking a better response, you nodded, letting a small whimper leave your lips. “Please, move…” You mumbled, immediately feeling how he began to set a pace, moving languidly and enjoying how your body adjusted to him as he moved inside you. He slid his cock almost completely out of you, slamming back to meet your body once again, you felt yourself dripping down his length, certain that you were becoming a complete mess. “It’s so good.” You whimpered, not even thinking straight, you were completely focused on the way he was slipping in and out of your wet heat. 

Yoongi could only think how good you felt, just the view of you, overwhelmed with your eyes barely open, biting your lips so you made the least amount of noise possible, made his cock throb inside you, making him feel like he was on the verge of breaking. “You’re so tight, baby.” He moaned out, obsessed with the way you wrapped around him perfectly, the way your cunt pulled him back in every time he pulled away, the way your breast bounced in front of him as he drilled in and out of you. He was sure he wasn’t going to last much longer, and he knew that, considering that you were just about to cum a few moments ago, you weren’t going to last long either. “You look so pretty taking me, wish I could take a picture.”

“God- Yoongi…” You whimpered, his name slipping out, the only word you could grasp, filling every corner of your mind.. You felt your pleasure building in your belly and your thighs trembling as he kept thrusting inside you, “I’m not, oh-” Your voice got caught in your throat when you felt a particularly hard thrust hit your sweet spot, leaving you breathless. 

“You like it, baby?” He grunted against your neck leaving wet kisses on your skin as his thrusts deepened . You nodded several times, the only thing you could do was moan in response. “Tell me you like it.” 

“I- Yes, I love it, feels so good.” You slurred, feeling his lips kissing your jaw, your cheek and then catching your lips, kissing you softly, a gesture so gentle compared to the way he was fucking you open. 

He bit your lips tenderly “You feel so nice.” He murmured against your mouth, “Want to have you like this all night, would you let me?” Your voice was cut by a moan, as if you could find an answer for that anyway. “Would you let me fuck you all night?”

You were certain that his words were going to be engraved in your mind for a long time, you wouldn’t be able to forget the way he pronounced each syllable, compelling you into saying whatever he wanted to hear, how he looked at you without any kind of inhibition, how he touched you like your body was his only; you weren’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

“Y-yes, please.” You moaned out, feeling yourself clench around him at the thought. 

“Such a good girl.” He said between huffs. “So perfect, like you were made just for me.”

Completely drunk on his compliments, you sobbed, digging your nails on his biceps once he began to sped his thrusts, he could see the desire spreading all over your face, moaning into his mouth “Fuck, right there.” You said in the prettiest of whimpers “I’m- so close.” 

“You gonna cum for me?” You didn’t need to tell him, he could feel the way you were throbbing around his cock, bouncing up and down and getting tighter with each thrust, it was driving him crazy. 

“Yeah, I’m-“ You struggled to finish the sentence, your thoughts were all tangled, your words stumbled upon each other, “It’s too much…” you could only feel the burning sensation between your legs, your wet thighs, his hips hitting against yours filling the room with filthy sounds. Somewhere in your mind there was a version of you that was worried about the sound of Yoongi’s headboard hitting the wall, or how loud both of you sounded, or the fact that Yoongi’s building was full of elder people who will have more than a reason to complain the next day, but if you were being honest, right now you couldn’t find the will to even care about it one bit. 

One of his hands reached to grab your jaw, making you look him straight into his eyes, but you were struggling to focus your crystallized gaze. “Want to see you cum for me.” He hissed, hypnotized by how pretty you looked, whimpering and sobbing around him. Without notice, one of his hands slithered between your bodies, running down your belly and meeting his fingers on your sensitive nub, tracing small circles on it to finish you.  “Be good for me, baby, cream my cock.”

“Fuck, d-don’t stop…” Your eyes fluttered shut, arching your back off the mattress as you felt yourself coming undone. You had never felt that way, so high on your own pleasure, a few more thrusts were enough to push yourself over the edge, tightly squeezing around him and moaning his name like a broken record. You dug your nails into his back, clinging to him as though you might collapse if you let go, but he helped you ride your high, even if the sight of you was about to push him to his breaking point. “That’s it, baby, I got you.” He said, his voice barely hanging by a thread.  His thrusts began to feel uncoordinated, a sign that he was not far from his release. “God, you’re so pretty, you’re gonna make me cum, too.” 

He crashed his lips onto yours, making you swallow all his moans as he fucked himself into you, reaching his climax. The room was filled with your heavy breath, muffled moans, the sound of his skin hitting against your as you finished milking him dry, with your forehead against his, murmuring his name in the dark as you both came down from your high.

You were tired, your whole body felt heavy and sore, but you still felt like you were floating on a cloud. His lips kissed you, making you feel like you were in an alternate universe. 

“You’re not real.” He said, mesmerized as he met your teary eyes. You didn’t know where this Yoongi came from, but you didn’t want him to leave. 

You groaned, suddenly feeling shy. “You’re too much…” You said, hiding your face in his neck. 

You heard him chuckle as his body softened on top of you. “Get used to it.” 

Maybe it was time to admit that you were a bit messed up in the head, realizing you never quite knew when to let your guard down. You could excuse it by saying you'd spent so long building walls around yourself that you’d forgotten what it felt like to live without them, or you could just tell the truth and say that you were afraid.

As you rested in Yoongi’s bed, refusing to fall asleep, you observed him, wishing to be as clueless and unafraid of the future as him. 

You heard his muffled voice, Yoongi’s face was buried in the crook of your neck, as he refused to go to sleep just yet. “You never told me if you like me too.” He said as he hugged your waist.

You traced your fingers along the back of his neck, gently threading through his long hair at the nape.

“I don’t, what gave you the impression?” You joked, making him bite the skin of your neck for teasing him.

“C’mon…” He said, glancing up “Tell me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, his eyes barely open and the pout on his mouth while he asked you to confirm something obvious. 

“I like you, Yoongi. I really do.” You confirmed, as if it was ever necessary to do so.

“But since when?” He leaned in slightly, his gaze intense.

“I can't tell you that.”

He frowned, a hint of confusion crossing his face. “Why?”

You shrugged, trying to avoid his eyes. “Mmm... because it's embarrassing.”

“I wouldn’t care,” He insisted, shifting to lie down beside you, settling onto the pillow with a gentle sigh. You turned towards him, mirroring his position from before and resting your head on his chest, your fingers tracing random patterns along his chest.

“I know,” You murmured, your voice softer now. “But I would.” You hesitated, the words tasting heavier than you'd expected. “It’s just... it’s a long time.”

He propped himself up slightly, looking down at you, his brow furrowed with curiosity. “How long?” He pressed. “Since college?”

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “Longer than that.”

He tilted his head, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Mmm... since high school?” His voice held a teasing edge. “I wasn’t that cute back then.”

“You were really cute in high school,” you found yourself admitting, a smile tugging at your lips as your mind wandered back. You could still picture him, awkward in his oversized clothes and square glasses, but somehow, to you, he’d been the only boy who existed.

He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “So... since high school.”

“Mmm…” You hesitated to answer. Hiding your face on his chest. You felt his fingers on your waist, squeezing the flesh so he could make you look at him. “A bit longer than that.”

Yoongi sighed, trying to think of a memory where he remembered you having a crush on him, but nothing came to mind. For someone you claimed to be the smartest person in the room, he seemed to be completely clueless. Perhaps because Yoongi always saw you as your brother's little sister, as this teenager that wanted nothing to do with her brother, as his friend. The idea of you having a crush on him since that long was crazy, but more crazy was the fact that he didn't notice at all. 

“God, don’t make that face,” you complained, rolling your eyes as you shifted uncomfortably.

“What face?” he asked, his voice distant, a slight frown tugging at his features as he seemed momentarily distracted.

“I told you, it’s embarrassing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is it that bad to have a crush on me?”

You groaned, feeling your cheeks flush. “Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” He shook his head with a playful grin, inching closer, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. “I still want to know.”

You huffed, debating whether to tell him the truth or not.

“What exactly do you want to know?” You asked, a mix of hesitation and willingness in your voice, ready to answer his question.

“Mmm... I don’t know, when did you know?” He asked, his tone casual, though his eyes held a deeper curiosity.

“I was a kid, Yoongi,” You replied, your voice softening, as if the memory itself were a weight.

“What about it? I’m curious.”

Maybe you were the only one in the room who found it embarrassing, because Yoongi wasn’t judging you—he was simply asking, genuinely interested. But the answer… it came from somewhere deep inside, a place you couldn’t quite reach, no matter how hard you tried. It wasn’t something that could be spoken so easily, yet here you were, on the verge of telling him.

You smiled, closing your eyes. “The thing is… that I don’t think is something that I can remember, Yoongi.” You confessed “It’s embarrassing because maybe I always felt that way. I was never the kind of kid who could be easily understood, but you did, and in those moments where you didn't, you sided with me anyway. And I don't know, I felt like you saw right through me and I liked that. I guess that messed with my head, because I knew that what I felt was somewhat irrational but I couldn't make it go away, I tried but I still can't. I have always been kind of a loser.”

Yoongi’s chest tightened, as though a quiet ache settled in, deep and raw. It was as if he could sense the weight behind your words—the hesitation, the vulnerability—but he knew they were nothing but the truth. You couldn’t remember when your feelings for him began, because, in a way, he had always been there, lingering just beneath the surface of your thoughts.

He reached out, his hand gently threading through your hair before sliding down your back, pulling you closer to him.

“You're not a loser, Pinky,” He murmured, his voice low and steady as his fingers found the back of your neck, keeping you anchored to him. “And you’re not difficult to understand. You’re not irrational, or crazy, or losing your mind.” A soft laugh escaped you as you listened to him list off your most frequent self-deprecating phrases.

“Isn’t it a bit embarrassing, though?” You whispered, the words barely escaping your lips

“What, having a crush?” He asked, letting out a small chuckle.

You nodded, but a part of you wanted to shake your head, to clarify that it wasn’t just about the crush. It was the way you had fallen in love with him—because, somehow, he was the only one who could ever truly understand you.

“For this long?” You whispered. 

“Nothing wrong with that,” He replied, his fingers gently tracing through your hair, the touch soothing.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you pressed a kiss to his chest, settling closer against him. You felt a wave of warmth washing all over your body. 

“You're too good to me.”

He let out a soft laugh, sitting up straighter on the bed. “Come here,” He murmured, his hands finding your waist, pulling you closer with ease. “I want to kiss you until you give me a toothache.”

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of his touch as his hands cupped your face. “I’m too sour to give you a toothache.”

“No, you're sweet,” He insisted, his grip tightening around your waist. With a playful move, he slid one of your legs around his, drawing you onto his lap. “You're nauseatingly sweet. Now shut up, sit here.” You settled on his lap, still shaking your head in defiance, even as your body remained pressed against his. “I want you to ride me.”

You snorted, surprised. “I have to shower...” You murmured, trying to pull back, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders to create some distance.

“Ride me first,” he breathed, his voice low and insistent. “Then we’ll shower.”

He leaned in for a kiss, grabbing your waist to keep you pressed to his body. “We?” You asked against his lips, chuckling.

You didn’t forget the fact that you were still naked, he kept kissing you, aligning your hips so he could rub your slit with his cock, making you wince. “Don’t you want to shower with me?” He innocently asked, pressing down your body against him so there was no space between the two of you.

You bit his lip, making him let out a small moan against your mouth. “Maybe…” You sighed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Why would I want to?”

“‘Cause I’ll make you cum.” He said without any trace of hesitation in his voice.

You groaned, rolling your hips against his body. “Really?” You kept teasing. He nodded, leaning back against the headboard, his hands sliding to your ass to pull you closer. “How?”

He raised his hips to meet your entrance, teasing your clit with every movement. From a second to another, you were trapped in a trance again. “First, I’m fucking you with my fingers.” He slowly said, his voice deep as he left a kiss on your neck, his palms gripping your ass to press you closer to him. You nodded, enjoying the way he handled you as he pleased. “And when you’re close I’m gonna start eating out that lovely pussy of yours. But when you think you’re just about to cum I’ll stop.” You whimpered, your head already spinning at the thought. The only logical thought in your mind was that Yoongi should be thrown in jail for the way he spoke, and the way he was moving. “I will only fuck you with my cock when you’re begging me to fill you with my cum, would you like that?” You let out a shaky breath, nodding, not thinking much about what you were agreeing to. “Would you like me to cum inside you, baby?” 

You nodded pathetically, your eyes fluttering shut as he ease the ache between your legs every time he rolled his hips against your body. You felt yourself clenching around nothing, feeling completely ridiculous at the thought of cumming like this. Suddenly, he stopped his movements, making you open your eyes to look at him. 

Yoongi was looking at you with a mischievous smirk on his face, ready to tease you. “Or I can let you go, I don’t mind.” He murmured, leaving an innocent kiss on your lips. 

You punched his arm, annoyed at him. “Fuck you.”

It was like the secrets of the world were held inside Yoongi’s bedroom, because you haven’t left since you arrived. 

You knew you should probably leave, give your mother a New Year’s kiss in person rather than sending a quick text, change into fresh clothes, and get some proper sleep. But inside these four walls, it was as if time had not passed. You’d woken up this morning beside him, determined to be the kind of girl who slipped away early, left no trace and didn't linger. But instead of the cold chill of the morning, you felt the warmth of his chest against your back, his arms wrapped around your waist, his breath soft against your neck. So, you let yourself stay just a few seconds longer, waiting for him to wake up first.

You stayed in bed until he offered one of his t-shirts to wear and kissed your nose, he only left the bed to make breakfast.

Now you were kneeling on the floor, lowering your head to search under Yoongi’s bed for your dress. You wondered what would be worse: showing up at home in Yoongi’s clothes or wearing last night’s dress.

“What are you looking for?” You heard his voice behind you. You sat up, turning your attention to him. He was still wrapped in his morning look—gray sweatpants, a black tee, and ruffled hair, probably thanks to you. Damn, he looked good.

“My dress.” You explained “Where did you throw it?” 

“Oh, I put it in my wardrobe,” He answered casually, extending his hand to help you up from the floor. You took it, trying to keep the shirt you were wearing from hiking up—though it was a losing battle. “Why?”

“I’d better get going,” You said shyly, nodding towards the door. 

“Why?” He repeated, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Well, um…” You stammered, searching for an answer, but you didn’t have one.

“You can stay,” he interrupted, his tone firm.

“I don’t know… I have no clothes.” The words felt foolish as soon as they left your mouth.

He scoffed. “You have clothes.” He scanned your body from head to toe, but all you were wearing was an old shirt that still smelled like his perfume and a pair of boxers he’d kindly offered you after tossing your black panties in the wash. You didn’t actually have clothes. “You’re dressed right now.” He stepped closer, his hand reaching for your waist over the fabric of his shirt. You unconsciously stepped towards him, letting him cup your face with one of his hands.“I wish you weren’t, though.” 

“Yoongi…” You whined, hypnotized by the way he bit his bottom lip.

“What?” He murmured.

“My mom?…” You mumbled, making him laugh once again. 

“Are you serious?” He asked, his knee slowly pushing between your legs—was he trying to make you trip into his bed?

You gripped his shoulders tightly, determined to stay on your feet.

“I bet your mom’s just fine,” He said, his voice laced with mockery. “Unless you want to leave.”

His knee pressed deeper into your thigh, but you fought back, unwilling to let gravity win so easily.

You tried to come up with a clever, sassy response, something that would shut down his attempts to make you blush, but you were too focused on not falling into his bed. You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

“Do you want to leave?” He asked, lowering his voice and pulling your face closer with his grip.

You pursed your lips, finally losing the battle with gravity as you tumbled into the bed, pulling him down with you. Your eyes locked for a brief moment, the room so still you could hear the pounding of your own heartbeat and the soft sound of his hands running up your thighs, squeezing the skin beneath the fabric of his boxers.

“Or do you want to stay?” He murmured, his breath hot against your ear, though the words seemed to echo in your mind.

You were too proud to say anything, he should’ve known you didn’t like to ask for things, but he was proud as well, he needed you to say it, and maybe this time you wanted to do it.

“I’ll stay...” You whispered, making him smirk. 

“Mmm… I won’t argue with that.” He murmured, pressing your nose against yours and kissing you with his mouth open, melting you under his body as his hands did the rest of the work.

And when you finished, tangled with each other, with his nose buried in your neck and his body on top of yours, he breathed out. You sighed, observing the watch on his wrist next to your head, it was only eleven in the morning. And that should be the perfect moment to run away before he kicked you out, but when you tried to move under his body, you found his gaze. 

“What?” He smiled, gripping your waist so you stayed there. 

“Nothing…” You said “Am not allowed to look at you now?” 

“No, you are.” He said “You’re just not allowed to look at me like you’re about to tell me you have to run away- I mean, that you have to leave.” 

You rolled your eyes. “C’mon, you’ll get tired of me.”

He braced himself on his arms, lowering his hands into the mattress as he hovered above you, just like he had five minutes ago before you came undone under him. The memory sent a flutter through your stomach, but now, he looked cute—confused by your words.

“You know, if you leave, I’m just going to follow you home, right?” He said, catching you off guard.

“Are you serious?” You scoffed. 

“I mean, what are you going to say? You have no clothes, you have to shower, you have to see your mom?” 

You laughed, crossing your arms over your chest. “What if I want to see my mom?” You teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“Leave your mom alone, Pinky,” He shot back, grinning. You covered your mouth to stifle a laugh. “Stay with me today.”

You tilted your head, eyes searching his lips. “And what about tomorrow?”

“Stay with me tomorrow too,” He insisted, his voice soft but firm. “And the day after, as well.”

“You have no idea what you're getting yourself into...” You warned, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” He said, his gaze steady. “Trust me, I do.”

You wondered how long you could stay before you snapped out of the trance, how many kisses you could give, how many secrets you could share, how many times he could lift your shirt up your chest, kiss your stomach, kiss your neck. It was like the secrets of the world were held inside Yoongi’s bedroom, because after that you couldn’t escape his hands for the whole day.

Yoongi’s apartment suddenly became a universe of its own. He played music while you danced through the kitchen. He put on a movie as the snow fell outside, and you snuck onto his bed, napped wrapped in his arms, and woke up just in time for dinner.

For a moment, it felt like everything had fallen into place. Yoongi showed you pictures of the hotel he was planning to book for your getaway to the beach, mentioning that he’d considered booking two rooms but now didn’t think it was necessary. You received a call from Simon, but you simply wished him a happy New Year without telling him anything. You texted your mom, letting her know you were with Yoongi, and she didn’t ask any questions. You texted Minnie, but her response was quite different—she bombarded you with almost twenty texts, begging you to tell her everything. 

Yoongi was serious, he wouldn’t let you go that easily. After dinner he trapped you in bed and kissed you till you were out of breath, making you promise that you’ll stay the night again. 

“What if I have other plans?” You murmured as you brushed the hair away from his face.

“What other plans would you have?” He teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I don’t know, what if I have to see a boy?” You shot back, a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Mmm, what boy?” He asked.

You bit your lip, sensing the opportunity waiting for you to seize it.

“I think you know him, actually,” You said, shifting slightly under him. You seemed to find yourself in that position more often than you realized. “His name’s Namjoon. Does that ring any bells?”

Yoongi blinked, clearly caught off guard, before letting out a soft chuckle. He grinned mischievously, then quickly reached for your sides, tickling you until you squirmed. “You’re asking for it now,” He teased, his breath warm against your neck as he leaned in to nip playfully at the skin there.

You burst out laughing, trying to wiggle away. “Stop! Stop, I’m serious!” you gasped between laughs, but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you tried to push him off.

Present

By the time Friday came, you had already decided you were on vacation. After a few calls with Sally and another few calls with your publicist, you had cleared your schedule completely and you were free to do whatever you wanted for the next three months. You supposed you deserved it, or that was what you were trying to convince yourself about as you had breakfast and planned what you were going to do today —which was nothing. 

As the days passed, the news, reporters, and everyone else trying to reach you for a statement began to forget about you, it turned out to be that you weren’t the most important person in the world, and saying no to a marriage proposal wasn’t the worst thing you could’ve done. The world kept spinning and everyone moved on to the next scandal, but the ache in your chest didn’t go away that quick.

You tried contacting Ian countless times. At first, all you wanted was to confront him and to ask him to tell you the truth, but by the tenth attempt, you were ready to curse him and his entire family. The fact that he had blocked your number only confirmed what you suspected—he was the one who leaked the pictures. 

Making peace with it felt impossible; it was as though you’d been lying beside a stranger, an enemy, for nearly four years. You wondered if he felt the same about you right now—if that was why he did what he did. But you weren’t the most forgiving person to exist, nor was forgetting in your nature. So even if some part of you knew it might be healthier to let go, you clung to the bitterness, feeling it settle deep inside you, a grudge you were ready to carry for as long as it took. Letting go simply wasn’t an option.

Still, you didn’t let the whole scandal ruin your main plan—an early vacation in October. But it seemed your friend Minnie, sitting across from you with a glare that could kill, was more than ready to.

Minnie didn’t keep insisting you on helping her with The Alley, but you knew that she was counting on you. You promised to go with her today, but the fact that you didn’t say a word about it the whole week was beginning to make her think that you changed your mind. 

“I’m going with you today.” You said without taking your eyes off your phone. “You don’t need to look at me like that.” 

You heard her sigh in relief. “God, I was afraid you would say no.”

“I said I would the other day, didn’t I?” You reminded her, making her roll her eyes. 

“Yes, like you are a person who doesn’t change her mind at all.” 

You laughed, letting her comment slide. 

By the afternoon, you were standing at the door of The Alley, waiting behind Minnie as she tried each one of the fifty keys of the keyring in locks of the large wooden doors. “I never know which key is.” She murmured under her breath, annoyed. 

You weren’t of much help, all you could do was observe her as she cursed Sid for not labeling the keys, hiding in your scarf just in case she took it on you as well. Minnie peered through the keyhole, as if she could glimpse the shape of the lock and somehow figure out which key would fit. You took a look around at the park, which was completely desolated, except for the view of two people approaching down the street. 

It took you exactly two seconds to figure out who that was, after all, you had memorized every tiny bit of Yoongi’s personality, including the way he walked. There he was, this time dressed casually, with a black hoodie on and a black cap over his head, laughing and chatting with a blonde girl who you didn’t recognize at all.

You turned immediately, pretending you hadn’t just seen him and that girl heading in your direction. Your first instinct was to curse Minnie for not warning you that Yoongi would be here, but, in fairness, she had mentioned he’d be around—and you had assured her it didn’t bother you. Still, you hadn’t expected him to appear the moment you arrived. For the sake of keeping your word, you played dumb, pretending not to have seen him.

“This is pissing me off.” Said your friend, straightening up and wiping the sweat off her forehead. She looked around, catching the glimpse of Yoongi almost as quickly as you did. “Oh, don’t turn around.” She warned you as she waved at him, faking a smile. “You don’t want to know who’s coming.”

“I already know.” You gritted through your teeth.

“How did you know?” she whispered, raising an eyebrow. “Did you feel him coming? How? Do you have some kind of spidey sense I don’t know about? Like… an ex-boyfriend radar or something?”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up. No. I saw him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, but you just shrugged, already hearing steps behind you, slowing down as they approached you.

“Hey, guys,” Minnie said with a polite smile, holding up the jangling keyring. “Am I late? I’ve been wrestling with these keys.”

Yoongi’s eyes met yours briefly, a flicker of unease flashing across his face before he shifted his gaze to the blonde girl beside him. Her expression froze for just a moment, her gaze landing on you with a slight look of recognition, but you barely acknowledged it, focusing instead on the uncomfortable pause that followed.  “Uh… no, you’re fine,” He murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think we’re just a bit early.”

You murmured a quiet “hi,” watching as Yoongi stepped towards Minnie. “Let me see,” he said in that low voice of his, reaching for the keyring. Minnie handed it over eagerly, clearly too flustered to remember introductions, but you didn’t mind. You had no interest in learning who Yoongi had shown up with—not in the slightest. “I already told you which one it is.”

In what universe Yoongi knew which key opened the doors of The Alley? Apparently, in this one. In a matter of seconds he had found the key and opened without any problem, leaving Minnie thanking him. 

“I need to label it before I lose it again.” She said.

The blonde watched them both, her gaze flickering to you for just a moment before returning to Yoongi. She shifted her weight, as if she was waiting for something else to happen while Yoongi and Minnie exchanged words, but you kept quiet. You were quite used to people recognizing you on the street, especially in your hometown where every single person knew your name, that didn’t mean that you enjoyed it. 

“Look, it has different slots from the other ones.” He showed her, and Minnie looked carefully as he pointed the key. 

“Fine, I’ll try to remember.” She nodded, grabbing the keyring from his hands. “Now enter, time to work.”

Minnie clapped her hands as she stepped inside, disappearing ahead and leaving you, Yoongi, and the blonde girl—someone you'd never seen before—standing there, exchanging glances as if there were something unspoken between you all. The blonde shifted her gaze to you briefly, her expression unreadable yet somehow expectant. You felt a knot tightening in your chest and quickly slipped past them without acknowledging it, catching up to Minnie and putting the awkwardness of the moment behind you.

“You can play some music if you want.” Said Minnie, disappearing through a hall that led to the office.

You hurried towards her, leaving Yoongi and his friend behind without a backward glance.

“Why does Yoongi know how to open the doors, and you don’t?” You whispered, quickening your steps to keep up with Minnie.

“I told you, he’s here all the time,” She replied, barely slowing down as she moved ahead. “He has to fix some lights from the theater today.” 

“And... who was that?” You asked, slipping into the office and closing the door behind you a little faster than necessary.

Minnie dropped her bag on the desk with a roll of her eyes. “I don’t know—some girl he’s seeing now,” She replied, shrugging. “She’s just here to keep him company. I doubt she cares much about The Alley, but hey, not my business.”

You nodded, suddenly feeling the faintest stir of something you couldn’t quite name. You pushed it aside—no need to dwell on it.

“How do you know?” You asked, trying to sound casual. “Is he your personal friend now?”

She chuckled, sitting back in her chair. “We’re friendly,” the redhead replied, her tone light as if that wasn’t the biggest betrayal of all.

You let yourself fall into the chair across from her, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” She said with a shrug. “I don’t really have a choice.” Then, her gaze met yours. “We don’t talk about you, though. He doesn’t dare say your name.”

“He doesn’t mention me but he talks about the girls he’s seeing?” You asked, crossing your arms above your chest. 

“Yes, it’s like he’s seen a ghost everytime someone says your name, it’s funny.” She said “And why are you asking, anyway? Are you jealous?” She teased. 

You couldn’t deny that the fact that Yoongi couldn’t stand to hear your name gave you a little bit of satisfaction, but knowing that he also shared the details of his most recent date with who was supposed to be your best friend pissed you off. 

“You’re a traitor, Minnie,” You muttered, shaking your head in disbelief.

She raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “Didn’t you say you had no problem with him being around?” She shot back, using your own words against you. “He’s helping out with everything. I can’t exactly avoid being friendly.”

You huffed, already knowing she was right, but it didn’t stop the sting of betrayal. “Still…” you grumbled, unable to hide the bitterness in your tone. “You’re supposed to be on my side, one hundred percent.”

“I have to choose my battles, honey.” She sighed, paying little attention to your tantrum. “For the sake of this place, at least.” 

You exhaled sharply, leaning back in your chair, arms still crossed. “Guess I can’t argue with that,” You muttered, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice, but it still seeped through.

Minnie slipped through some papers on the desk, glancing up to you. “Besides… I can be on your side, which I am, and still be friendly to him. I’m not trying to brainwash you, but he’s a great guy, you know? Overall…”

“I know that.” You said, defeated, “I know that more than anyone.”

Your friend didn’t need to convince you; you knew better than anyone how impossible it was to dislike Yoongi. You knew that he was a great man, a great son, a great neighbor. That he loved his mother, was the best friend of everyone and girls loved him. And yet, it was for all those reasons that you resented him. If only he were just a little less of all those things, a little more selfish, maybe—just maybe—he might have chosen you.

Four years ago

You have never been the kind of girl who wore her heart on her sleeve, but the next morning, tangled in sheets under Yoongi’s body, you were. 

That afternoon you inevitably had to say goodbye to him, but not without him putting on a good fight first. His mom was coming back from vacation that night and you refused to be there when she arrived just to find you wearing her son’s clothes as pajamas for the second day in a row, even if Yoongi argued that there was nothing wrong with it since she’d known you all your life. At the end he ended up agreeing with you, deciding that maybe you were right and driving you home.

You walked backwards towards the porch, blowing kisses to Yoongi, who sat in his car, trying to catch each one of them. He waited until you opened the door and winked at you, waving a goodbye before starting the car and disappearing. Closing the door behind you, you felt your heart beating against your ribcage, threatening to escape from your body. You leaned against the door for a moment, feeling the weight of the silence that filled the space around you. Your breath was shallow, your chest tight, as if the air itself was heavier now that he was gone. 

You had always been in love with Yoongi; it was a weight you had carried for most of your life. You had grown tired of trying to get rid of it, learning to live with it as if it were a curse. But this time, it felt different, it was like love was supposed to feel like. 

You wanted things to sink in and be as far from him as you possibly could, but as soon as you heard the car driving away, a sudden urge to run and look for him took over you. 

Still, you lay in bed for the rest of the day, feeling like you were sixteen again, wondering if it was okay to text him first. What should you say? That you had a great time? That you wanted to see him again? You wished he could have just appeared at your doorstep without you having to ask. You wished to hear the sound of a rock against your window, only to find out it was him, calling for you.

Later that night, you did receive a text from Yoongi, though not in the way you had imagined.

Almost all of Yoongi’s memories were of just him and his mom together. The concept of family had always been different for him than it was for everyone else, but he had learned to embrace it. Even so, he often wished things could have been different—that his mother didn’t have to work two jobs, that he didn’t have to spend so much time in other people’s homes, that the concept of a family of two didn’t come with so many complications. 

Yoongi had spent most of his childhood with nannies and Simon’s mom, observing how Lila took her of her children and hoping that image could be his instead. 

He grew up trying not to cause much trouble, working to help his mom, studying hard, and striving to earn a full scholarship. Between long hours at part-time jobs and nights spent pouring over textbooks, he found himself attending to her when her health took a turn—making meals, running errands, or simply sitting by her side to ensure she was comfortable. The weight of responsibility shaped him early, leaving little room for his own dreams, doing everything he could to lighten her burden while quietly dreaming of a future where neither of them had to struggle.

His mother had become a priority and he never complained, he loved her, but in the meantime he was slowly forgetting about himself without noticing. 

That night, Yoongi had created a group chat to inform all his family that his mother had suffered an accident on her way home from vacation. She had fallen, breaking her hip in the process, and now required surgery as soon as possible. The tone of his message was calm, almost detached, as if he were trying to keep the weight of the situation from overwhelming anyone. Still, you could feel the urgency behind his words, the unspoken worry pressing between the lines. 

His message said that she was going into surgery in a few hours and that his aunt was with him, but didn’t answer any other message for the rest of the night until the next morning, when he announced that the surgery had gone okay and that Nari was fine, though she didn’t wake up yet.  

You felt a whole carving in your chest just by thinking of him, handling the situation alone. You knew that Yoongi always tried to convince everyone he was fine on his own, that he didn’t need anyone’s help, but you couldn’t shake the image of him sitting in a hospital chair, exhausted and worn, holding it together for everyone else while no one held it together for him. 

Even if you wanted to visit Nari, to be there for both of them, Yoongi explicitly said that people could only visit her once she was at home, three days later.

That very same morning you began your ten block walk to Yoongi’s home, starting to feel your feet getting frozen inside of your monochrome black Converse, your fingers numbing inside your half finger gloves and a strange feeling in your gut that was slowly creeping up on you.

You tried to tell yourself that it was the bad taste that left you the news of the accident, you still couldn’t shake the feeling of worry, hence the anxious feeling in your stomach. Even if Yoongi had said that everything went alright, you still were worried.

You turned around and looked at the end of the street where your home was, wondering if you should go back and take your car, but you ultimately buried your hands in the pockets of your jacket and decided to carry on your way; ten blocks in the snow never killed anyone. 

When you started to approach the old building, flashbacks immediately assaulted your memory in the least subtle of ways, it was like every kiss lingered in your skin, you couldn’t wash them off.

You rang the bell, announced yourself and in less than five minutes you were in front of Yoongi’s door like you were a few days ago. 

“Pinky, I-... I didn’t know you were coming.” Was the first thing he said. 

Yoongi’s face was a map of exhaustion, his eyelids hung heavy and the skin beneath his eyes shadowed by the weight of sleepless nights. 

“Hi to you too,” you mumbled.

“Sorry... Hi. You surprised me,” Yoongi replied, his voice thick with exhaustion.

“It’s okay,” you said quickly, not wanting to dwell on it. “I wanted to see Nari. I tried to text you, but-”

“I haven’t been paying attention to my phone,” He interrupted, his gaze dropping for a brief moment, a tired sigh escaping him.

You frowned slightly, unsure if it was the weariness or something else. “Yeah, I’m sure. But I was hoping she’d be here already.”

“We arrived a few hours ago,” He explained, his voice low, as if the weight of the past few hours still clung to him.

Silence stretched between you, the kind that felt heavy, as if neither of you knew quite how to fill it.

“How are you?” You said, taking a step closer to him.

“I’m okay now that she’s home,” Yoongi admitted, his voice low and strained. “But… I was so stressed I thought I was going to pass out.”

Your heart clenched at his words, a pang of helplessness surging through you. You fought the urge to pull him into an embrace, knowing it wouldn’t erase the exhaustion carved into him.

“What exactly happened?” You pressed gently, your tone careful.

Yoongi exhaled, leaning briefly against the doorframe, his gaze distant. “She slipped and landed in the worst possible way. Her hip… it didn’t just crack. It broke clean through, but not in the middle, more on the edge, closer to where it connects to the rest of her leg. They said the pieces weren’t in the right place anymore, and they had to go in and put it back together” He paused, swallowing hard, his voice lowering to almost a whisper. “I wasn’t even with her. It was my aunt who called me, and by the time I got to the hospital, they were already preparing her for surgery.”

“How is she?” You asked softly, glancing at him.

“She’s... recovering,” Yoongi said, running a hand through his hair. “The doctors said the bone broke just outside the joint. They had to put this metal nail inside her thigh bone and screw it into place to hold everything steady so it can heal.”

“A nail?” You repeated, eyes widening.

“Yeah,” He nodded. “It’s supposed to keep the bone stable. They said it’s the best way to fix this kind of break. She’s in a lot of pain, though.”

“I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for her... or for you.” You took a step closer, watching the weariness in his expression.

Yoongi let out a shaky breath. “She’s tough, though. Tougher than me, that’s for sure.”

You kept silent for a second. “Can I see her?” You almost whispered, unsure, but he quickly moved away from the door.

“Yeah, of course.” He said, suddenly remembering you were still outside of his home. “Come in, she’ll be happy to see you. I’ll let her know first.”

You stood in the living room as you watched him disappear through the hall where both of their rooms were, trying to avoid any kind of memory you had from a few nights ago. Why did you have to think of that in moments like these?

After a few seconds, you catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s face from the hall, telling you to follow him. You followed his voice, entering Nari’s room without making much noise. 

She was laying in bed with a blanket draped over her legs. She looked up as you entered, her eyes lighting up with a welcoming smile that made her seem so much like Yoongi, and yet, not entirely. She was clearly in pain, but her cheerfulness masked it, her eyes twinkling with the same kindness you remembered. 

“Oh sweetheart, what are you doing here?” Nari said warmly, her voice a little strained but genuine. “I didn’t expect you to drop by.”

“How come? I wanted to come check on you.” You smiled, taking a cautious step closer “Simon and my mom, too. They all want to see you.”

“Oh, they don’t have to!” She waved off “I’ll be on my feet in no time, this was nothing.” Her eyes lingered on you for a moment before shifting to Yoongi, who was quietly standing behind you. 

You glanced over at him, catching the flicker of something unreadable in his expression before he quickly masked it. You wanted to ask him what was going on, but you didn’t dare in front of his mother. Instead, you focused on her, trying to offer a comforting smile.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Nari,” You said, your voice soft but sincere. “It must’ve been scary.”

“Oh, I’ve had worse.” She shifted her weight slightly, and you could see a flash of discomfort cross her face, but she quickly masked it with another smile. “It’s just a little fracture. Nothing to worry about, really.”

Yoongi shifted, his hands gripping the keys in his pocket, eyes flicking towards his mom before looking back at you. “The doctors said she needs to use a wheelchair for a while.” He interrupted, as if he was trying to remind his mom rather than telling you about it. 

Nari gave him a sharp look, but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced with a softer, more forced smile. “I’m okay. Really, I’m tougher than I look.” She looked up at you.

You nodded, but something in the way she looked at Yoongi made you pause. There was an underlying tension there, something unspoken. You weren’t sure if it was because of the accident or something else, but it felt like you had stepped into a moment that wasn’t meant for you.

“I’ll be fine,” Nari repeated, as if to reassure both you and Yoongi. “I’m just happy to see you two together. It’s been so long since you visited.”

You smiled, trying to match her enthusiasm. “We should all get together sometime soon, once you’re feeling better.”

You could tell she was trying to downplay everything, to act like it was just another ordinary day. But the quiet discomfort in the room, the way Yoongi stood slightly apart from her, told a different story.

You watched Yoongi shift again, clearly uncomfortable with the way things were, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he cleared his throat. “We should let you rest, Mom.”

Nari smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes this time. “Yes, yes. I’ll be fine. You two go on.”

You nodded, feeling the tension in the room like a heavy cloud, but not wanting to draw it out any longer. As you followed Yoongi out, you could still feel in your stomach the feeling you had when you left your house earlier.

Yoongi held the door open for you as you stepped out of the living room, your footsteps soft against the wooden floor. Neither of you said anything as you walked to the elevator at the end of the hall, the silence stretching between you like an invisible thread. Yoongi pressed the call button, and the sound of Yoongi opening the door of the elevator was the only sound that broke the stillness.

Inside, the faint hum of the elevator motor filled the space as you both stood side by side. You stole a glance at him, noticing the way his hands fidgeted slightly in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the floor numbers on the wall.

“You okay?” You asked, looking at his soft face. He glanced up, his eyes sidetracking towards your lips before looking away. 

“Yeah, I’m just tired.” He simply said. 

Yoongi stepped out first, waiting for you to follow before leading the way through the lobby and towards the glass doors at the exit. The cold morning air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, sharp and bracing after the warmth of the building. Yoongi stuffed his hands deeper into his jeans pockets, his breath visible in the frosty air as he exhaled. You tightened your own coat around you, walking alongside him as the wind tugged at your hair.

“Did something happen between the two of you?” You wondered out loud, watching him closing the door behind him, clutching the keys in his hand as he leaned against the stair railing beside you. 

“Nothing, she just…keeps picking fights with me. She’s been unbearable since the surgery.” He sighed, frustration heavy in his voice. “She tries to tell everyone it’s nothing but it’s not like that. She didn’t like it when the doctor told her she had to use a wheelchair, she refused.” 

You looked up at him. Yoongi had always been taller than you, making you tilt your chin just slightly to meet his gaze. “She needs time to process it. You know how she is—she’s never liked being helped. Just give her space, and she’ll come around. Don’t be too hard on her, okay?”

He let out a sharp breath. “It’s her who’s being hard on me,” He muttered. He shook his head, the frustration evident in his eyes. “Did you see the way she looked at me? The only reason she was being nice was because you were there.”

“I know it’s tough,” You said softly, “but she’s not used to this. Just a few days ago, everything was normal, and now she’s facing this huge change—she has to use a wheelchair for who knows how long. The meds might be messing with her mood too.”

“The meds are driving her crazy,” He affirmed.

“Well, see? It’s not your fault.” You said, reaching your hand to run your fingers through his hair. “You’re doing everything you can, she will come around.” 

Yoongi closed his eyes when he felt your fingertips close to his face, there was something about your touch that burned him through his skin, pulling him into a trance. 

A silence settled between the two of you, you shared a glance with him, your eyes meeting each other like a secret. It was like you could see everything that happened in his room a few nights ago just by looking him in the eye, like every kiss and every word were still palpable in the air. 

On the surface, Yoongi knew he should be worried about other things, that his mother was the most important thing right now, but in the back of his mind there was you, laying on his bed as you begged him for one more kiss, one more touch. Oh, how he wished he could turn back time to be trapped inside his room with you alone again, like you were the only people in the world. 

“Pinky, I-”

“Yoongi-” 

The words crashed into each other, a quiet storm of unspoken things hanging in the air between you. For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of everything that had been left unsaid that night pressing down on the space between your breaths.

“We…” He tried to say, but he cut himself.  “I’m sorry for not calling.”

You shook your head, waving it off “It’s okay, I understand. I just wanted to check on both of you.”

“I wanted to call you,” He said, his voice quieter than usual. “And I wanted to see you… but I couldn’t.”

“It’s alright, Yoongi…” You murmured, but his gaze was fixed on the floor, his eyes avoiding yours like they were afraid of something.

“Pinky, about the trip to the beach-”

You cut him off gently, your voice firm despite the softness. “I’m not thinking about the trip to the beach.” You paused, feeling the weight of your words. “I was worried about your mom, I was worried about you.”

“I know, I know,” he said quickly, his voice tight as he looked away. 

“Yoongi, the trip can wait.” You insisted, but something told you that this wasn’t about the trip 

He inhaled sharply, his breath shaky, as if the words were caught somewhere between his chest and his throat. His gaze darted to the side, then back to you.

“That’s the thing, Pinky, I don’t think it can.” His voice cracked slightly, a crack in the armor he'd been holding up. Suddenly, you felt your chest tighten, the words weighing heavily in the air. “I just… I don’t know how to deal with all of this. I’ve been doing some thinking in the hospital, and I-” He paused, his breath hitching like he was trying to swallow something painful. “I don’t know how to say this, but maybe… we should leave this right here.”

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach, the sudden shift in his words making it feel like the ground had disappeared beneath you. “I- What do you mean?” you managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry, Pinky,” He murmured, his voice barely audible now, thick with regret. His eyes flicked away, unable to meet yours. “For everything. I wanted to call you and explain… but I couldn’t. I was afraid you thought I used you and-”

“I never thought that.” You rushed to say, confused. “Why would I?”

Yoongi looked at you, at a loss for words, but he couldn’t stand holding your gaze for more than one second, even if you desperately tried to meet his eyes, as if that could make him make some sense. 

“I don’t know, I-” He struggled to say. “I just wanted you to know that I said the truth the other night, you know that? I wasn’t lying but-”

“What are you talking about?” You cut him off, your heart racing as a wave of nausea hit you.

He exhaled sharply, eyes dropping to the floor, still refusing to meet your eyes.. “Pinky… whatever happened these past few weeks… it shouldn’t have happened.” His voice was low, almost regretful. You felt a cold chill creep into your bones. The air between you had shifted, heavy and suffocating.

“Yoongi, why are you saying this?” 

You took a step closer to him, but you felt his breath hitching, attempting to run away from you. 

“Because I can’t leave to follow you, I can’t run away with you.” He firmly said, breaking your heart into a million pieces. “For the sake of everyone.”

You frowned, your chest tightening. “For the sake of everyone, or for your sake only?” You murmured, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to shield yourself from the cold that wasn’t just coming from the air. It was coming from him, too.

He threw his head back in frustration, closing his eyes, the weight of his decision settling on his shoulders. He wasn’t willing to turn this into a fight, but he clearly underestimated you if he thought you would just stay silent.

“Pinky, don’t make things more difficult.” He begged, but that only made it worse. 

You couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that escaped you. “Yeah, but I can’t, can I? That’s always been my job, right?” You said, your voice trembling just enough to betray your anger. “I always have to make things difficult.”

He shook his head, an exasperated sigh escaping him. “C’mon, I didn’t say that. You’re making things up.”

You tried to maintain your composure, but the effort was slipping away. The knot in your throat grew tight, and it felt like your chest was about to crack open. Maybe it was in your nature to make this more difficult, to create a fight, to be resentful, but you couldn’t just stand there, pretending this wasn’t nonsense, that what he said wasn’t completely different from what he said nights ago. You couldn’t pretend this wasn’t hurting. 

“Then, what is it?” You asked “It’s not me? It’s you?” 

The silence that followed was overwhelming, the weight of his words settling in the space between you like a wall.

“It’s us.” He pronounced, his words hitting the air like thunder, reverberating down the empty street, carving themselves deep into your chest.  “We are different, we- I can’t.”

For a moment it felt as though the world had narrowed down to just his voice. You swallowed hard, the burn of tears creeping into the corners of your eyes. You blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. “Wasn’t it always like that?” You managed to choke out, your voice trembling, raw with hurt. “Because this isn’t what you told me the other night. What was it? That you wanted me? That you couldn’t stop dreaming of me? That I was the solution to all your problems?” The words slipped out before you could stop them. “Am I just supposed to walk away and accept it was all bullshit?”

You felt your cheeks burning red and your hands trembling as you closed them into fists. Your heart pounded so loudly in your ears you could barely hear your own words anymore.  Handling your emotions the correct way wasn’t one of your qualities, because you hadn’t even realized you were raising your voice until Yoongi took a step forward, the heat of his presence forcing your breath to catch in your throat. You faltered, trying to steady yourself, but it was impossible.

“I told you I wasn’t lying to you.” He reminded you, his voice filled with emotions. “It wasn’t bullshit, I meant what I said, you are a dream of a girl, Pinky. But you… you drive me crazy.” He sighed, as if the words were tearing him apart. “Even when everything that was happening with my mom, I still couldn’t stop thinking about you, do you know how fucked up that sounds? I can’t let you do that to me.”

“What?” You spat. “Would that be so bad?”

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shutting briefly, as if to block out the entire world. “Please, you know this.” His voice was strained now, almost pleading. “We can’t ignore it forever, I have to stop it now. You could never stay in one place, and even if I wanted to run away with you, I can’t. I have to stay here.”

“I was not going to run away. Not with you here.”

“And next year?” he asked, his tone sharp with frustration. “What happens next year? Or in five years? When you realize this isn’t what you wanted and you pack your bags again?—because I know you, do you think I don’t? You can’t stay, you never do. And I can’t leave.”

It was as if every cruel word the world had ever aimed at you, every harsh truth or bitter lie, was now coming from the lips of the one person who had always been on your side. You could understand that Yoongi was sad, tired and angry, but this was crossing the line. 

You tried to fight the tears, but they fell anyway, unable to defend yourself. What could you say? That it wasn’t true? Betraying your dignity and trying to convince him that staying with you was worth the shot? That it wasn’t as crazy as he made it sound? No. You had spent your life waiting for people to like you, but today you were stopping it. You stood there, not willing to wipe your tears and pointed to his chest, angry.

“God, you’re a fucking coward.” Your breath trembled, uneven, trying to hold it together.

“Pinky, please,” He breathed out, his voice low and desperate as he reached for your face.

“Don’t call me that.” You took a step back, shaking your head, your chest tightening. “I know you, too, you know? And I know this isn’t about me this time, this time it’s about you being afraid like you’ve always been.”

“Stop, please,” he begged again, his voice cracking under the weight of his plea. But you couldn’t stop; anger burned through you, mixing with the ache in your chest, with the tears threatening to spill. You were angry, you were upset, you were fucking sad.

“Why?” you snapped, your voice sharp and trembling. “Is this not what you expected me to say? Or did you want me to admit that you’re right, like you always are—that I’m unpredictable, and a mess, and that I just don’t fit into your life like a normal girl would?”

“Y/n, I didn’t say any of that.” He replied softly, his eyes wide and pained, his shoulders sinking under the weight of your words.

The sound of your name ringed in your ears, but you ignored it. He didn’t say that but that was exactly what he meant, he couldn’t deny that.  

“You know, I don’t even care about the road trip,” You said, your voice trembling with restrained frustration as you stepped down one step, still facing him. “There would have been plenty of chances for that, fine. Whatever.” You paused, gripping the railing, your breath unsteady. “And your mom? Of course she needs your help now, I wasn’t gonna complain, how could I? And next year? Sure, she’ll probably still need you. But in five years?” You looked straight at him, your eyes sharp, filled with a mix of anger and sorrow. “In five years, your mom’s going to hate that the only thing you ever did with your life was take care of her.”

Your voice cracked then, but you didn’t stop. “And me? Even if I’d love to do it, I won’t be here to tell you I told you so.”

Yoongi’s face was a mix of disbelief and hurt, the corners of his mouth tightening as if trying to hold back a response that wasn’t coming. You turned around, not sparing him another glance as you almost ran towards your home, ignoring your name being called over and over again from the voice of the man who just broke your heart. 

Yoongi was painfully always there in your life. He was always the voice of reason, the calm one, the designated driver ever since he was sixteen, the smart one, the boy every mother wanted as their son. Yoongi was the boy who helped you with your math homework when you were eleven, he was the boy who defended you when your brother made fun of you, the boy who gave you his joystick so you would stop crying when you found out your brother was making you play with the one that didn’t work. Yoongi was always mature, always wiser, always older. And you were always immature, always stubborn, always younger. Just a brat who couldn’t stand the fact that he was the only one you wanted, but the only one you couldn’t have. When you turned the corner at the end of the street, determined not to look back, you decided that maybe now was time for you to accept it and finally move on.