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mygloviesme · 6 months

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cool about it, eleven years later. || myg || story finale

no. 3 out of 3: i can’t hide from you like i hide from myself

predebut/debut!yoongi x female idol

summary: eleven years later, kanako lives in nyc with her childhood best friend keiko. bts have become a household name that floods her every day life, and she's learned to ignore it. after years of moving on from those months she spent with the seven boys, she finds herself in a good place. what happens after one fateful night she finally runs into faces she's tried so hard to run away from?

(definitely inspired by boygenius)

word count: 10.5k (yup)

genre: ANGST, fluff, melodrama

chapter warnings: mentions of mental health, drinking (casual wine sipping), mentions of toxic ex, smut (missionary, oral f. receiving, dirty talk, praise? idk)

if you see any edit mistakes, no you don’t. it’s 5 am and I’m too eager to release this!

inspo song: xo by beyonce

"your face is all that i see, i give you everything"

JULY 10TH, 2023, 9:46PM

It feels silly, us all being so much older and sleeping over in Jungkook’s hotel room. Although, it is a huge hotel room. Anyway, it feels like we're too old for sleepovers like this. Even Yoongi, who stayed quiet most of the car ride, groaned in annoyance. Shouting, ‘Why did I spend so much money on a nice hotel if I was just gonna sleep on a couch?’

But Jungkook insisted and so did a still-tipsy Jimin. Namjoon was pretty neutral like always. I think he’s secretly excited though. I’m not sure if I can say the same for Yoongi. I couldn’t stop glancing at him during the car ride, examining his quick-witted retorts to Namjoon like I remembered. We’d swap eye-contact every once in a while, though fleeting, sending shock waves down to my core every time. But, the dust (my non-stop adrenaline) luckily settled once we arrived at the luxurious building.

As we entered the room, an eager Jungkook races to his room, shuffling around to only come out with a set of clothes. And for a second, a brief moment, I swear he shrinks a couple inches. Like he’s as small as he was then. It’s not like I miss that version of him more because I can still feel he’s that boy in instances like these. But it’s nostalgic. “Here.” He says, handing me the stack.

The sweats are soft and gray and the shirt I can smell even from here. Like laundry detergent, the one with the teddy bear on it. They feel undoubtedly expensive.

“O-Okay, I’m just gonna change in the bathroom.” I say, Jungkook nodding and pointing to the direction it’s in. I follow his finger and approach the tall door, turning the handle to enter inside. It gives me time to call Keiko and gather my thoughts. It’s been a long night filled with all sorts of things I have to sit and think about before I get back out and deal with it again.

Maybe not the yelling and shouting that occurred, but the thick awkwardness of the fact that we’re still getting used to each other. Eleven years is too long and two days is too short to recount everything we missed from each other's lives. The clock is ticking and I’m not sure how to slow down time.

I place the clothes on the counter and reach inside my purse for my phone, opening my contacts to dial Keiko. Quickly. She picks up instantly like always. She’s great at that.

“Hey Koko, how’s everything going? Do you need a ride?”

I gulp, “N-No, I’m actually staying at their hotel tonight.”

I hear her freeze, “WHAT? You’re kidding!”

“No, I’m not!” I whisper and cover my mouth to muffle my voice as much as I can. It would be another problem if they heard me gossiping about tonight. But I have to debrief with her, it’s what we do.

“What do you mean by their hotel?”

“Well it’s Jungkook’s, but everyone agreed to have a sleepover.”

“What the fuck. I wish I was there! Hook me up, dear god.” She whines.

I laugh loudly, slapping my hand over my mouth when I realize the echoing it caused.

“Shut up. Maybe. But anyway, I’ll be here.”

“So what’s gonna happen? You gonna snuggle up to Yoongi or what?” She says and I hear her eating on something. Probably the rocky-road she claimed to hate. Liar.

“No, I’m not. Definitely not. We got into it tonight. Bad.”

She gasps, “Tell me.”

I exhale softly, “It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later. But everything’s fine now. We made up.”

“You made up, really?” She says with doubt. Don’t sound so surprised, jeez.

“Sort of. But there is one thing I wanted to tell you. Jimin got drunk and before me and Yoongi had…argued or whatever, he said ‘Yoongi isn’t the only one hung up on you.’ Talking about Jungkook. Isn’t that…crazy? What do you think it means?”

She sighs, “You know what it means, Koko. What did you expect from the boy? You guys cuddled like, every night.”

“He told me he considered me to be a sister!” I whisper-shout into the phone.

“I mean at first, yeah. But a hot girl coming to stay with seven boys every night? Come on.”

My face falls flat, my voice monotone. “I wish you’d keep some thoughts to yourself.”

“Anyway, that sounds complicated. But you’re a new Koko, new and improved. You can deal with this, I know you can. And if you wanna bail just call me up and I’ll come get you. I’ll be up for a while.” She reassures me.

I smile, “Thanks, Keiko. Love you. I’ll see you later.”

I hang up the phone and set it down, placing my head on the counter to take a deep breath. My forehead sits on the cold marble as I try to ground myself, calm myself. I don’t want the events of tonight to tamper with me. I want to enjoy this.

It hurts to think that they’ll be leaving in a day. That this night and tomorrow will be transient, because I miss them. I miss them like hell. I miss their laughs, their arguing. Their warm company that never fails to aid my stubborn, sad heart. As I lift my head to look at myself in the mirror, I witness the time that’s passed. The unmistakable creases on my face that have evolved as I got older. I wish they were here to see them as they came to fruition. I wish they could’ve seen and witnessed all my milestones. How did time pass by so quickly? I could’ve gotten so many more moments with them if I hadn’t left.

So many birthdays, holidays, everything. It’s not guilt that I feel, not even mourning. It's aching for all the time that I lost with them. They’ve always been my chosen family. And with Yoongi, even now I hurt when I think of everything that could’ve happened between us. Even if we stayed friends. Even if we stayed friends.

I take a break from my feelings and put on the clothes Jungkook gave me in a hurry. I know I’ve spent an absurd amount of time in this bathroom, but I still hear them from behind this door. So I know they can’t be settling for bed already.

Tonight calls for a later bedtime. Although, I do have work tomorrow.

JULY 11TH, 2023, 1:34AM

We’ve shared a bottle of wine or two throughout this night. Chatting about my own stories this time. All the things I’ve gotten into while living in this big city. Some stories I keep for myself, unsure of whether they’re appropriate for this late-night banter. Like the time in my work bathroom with a colleague of mine. That’s definitely unimportant.

It isn’t long until Namjoon and Jungkook are calling it a night, surprisingly. I look at Yoongi who isn’t saying anything at all. Is he not going to bed? Should I say I’m calling it a night too just to avoid being alone with him?

I’ve wanted to talk with him ever since I saw him that night, but right now it scares me shitless.

“Kanako, you coming?” Jungkook asks me while carrying wine glasses to the sink. I revert from looking at Yoongi for reassurance, allowance, to stay back with him. I go with my gut.

“N-No, I think I’ll stick around for a while longer.” Jungkook darts his eyes from me to Yoongi, sucking in his teeth. Is he upset?

“Well you can sleep in my bed. The three of us are taking the floor. It’s a big room, so. You know. Hope that’s okay.” His voice drips with irritation. He’s obviously discontent with me staying with Yoongi. I’ll take care of that later.

“That’s okay with me.” I smile weakly.

He doesn’t necessarily listen to my response, instead turning his back to walk to the room. Namjoon and a sleepy Jimin bidding a good night before following suit.

I watch them leave, counting down the seconds until they’re out of sight. It’s easier if I act like I’m distracted by them instead of talking to Yoongi.

I grab the second bottle of wine that’s been opened by Jungkook earlier tonight, pouring myself another glass. Keeping busy. Still avoiding. I feel his eyes on me, though. I think he’s wondering if I’ll say something first. But to my surprise, he speaks.

His isolated voice sends chills down to my abdomen, echoing in this sleek lounge space. His voice has always been low, smooth. Perfect to listen to as you’re falling asleep. I remember that so vividly. Him whispering to me as we both drifted off to sleep, kissing my sleepy face. His affection was constant. I remember the relentless hands all over my body when he got the chance. Shit, what did he say?

I widen my eyes, “S-Sorry. What was that?”

He laughs and takes a sip of the dark red liquid, talking in the glass.

“So you and Keiko get along well?” He repeats.

I bob my head from side-to-side, “Something like that. I’m kidding. Yes. We got along great, she’s like my sister.” There’s a loud nervousness in me that he’s not reciprocating. His words are confident, curious. I’m not used to this. Is it bad that I’m so anxious around him? Those almond eyes look ethereal beside the glow of the city lights. He’s beautiful. I wish I could take a photo of him right now.

“That’s great.” He responds casually.

Silence.

I drink from my wine again, “Mmm- I listened to your solo album. It’s amazing.” I say, acting like the thought just came to mind.

He nods, “Thanks. It took a while to make but I’m happy with the outcome. And tour was good too.”

“Right! Tour! I saw photos.” I wince at how well I’ve been keeping up with all of their extracurriculars.

His eyes never break eye contact with me as he speaks, “What’d you think?”

I chortle nervously, “It looked really cool and thought-out. I think all of your songs are great.”

“All of them?”

Shit. The elephant in the room has stomped its way through the door.

“Y-Yeah. All of them.” I whisper, fiddling with the stem of my wine glass.

I want to ask, how many other songs are about me? And have you written as much about Aimee? But I’m too old to be spiteful. It’s making me gray faster.

His veiny fingers push through his long hair, falling perfectly back into place as he sets his hand down on the kitchen counter. It suits him so well. He looks so sophisticated, and it’s still so surreal that I’m in front of him once again. Just like an inevitability, like death (morbid, I know) I had weirdly accepted that I would never see them, him, ever again. Was that selfish of me?

The reechoing of stillness makes my mind wander towards the city that never sleeps. It’s especially louder tonight during the absence of either of our voices.

I hear the honking and bustling of city life, something that never gets old. I loved it when I first got here. It filled in the gaps of silence so I wouldn’t be forced to think so much when I was sleeping at night. When I’d be crying myself out of tears because of the long-haired man sitting beside me. I would think about the young kids, whose night was just starting. The people closing up shop, the babies being put to bed. It was easier to live outside of myself here. You can’t help but love everything around you. Even the sweaty summer and nasty rain and the smell of garbage that never leaves certain streets. It’s become my new home. Nothing like Korea or Japan. Maybe that’s the point.

As I sit next to Yoongi, someone who reminds me of the past loneliness I used to feel, it scares me again. I’m not sure if him turning out to be a complete stranger, or the same Yoongi I used to know, is better. It’s nice to know that after all this time he can still look at me like an equal. Like I didn’t abandon him. But do I want him to have completely forgotten about the girl I used to be? I did not prepare for this in therapy.

“I wish I had invited you to visit me.” I confess, staring off into the glass window behind him.

He looks at me softly, “I wish you did too. But I’m here now. We’re here now. It’s okay.” He says, and I have a feeling he’s talking about us two instead of all five. It’s consoling. And there it is again, that x-ray vision he has into my thoughts. Or am I being ridiculous once more?

“Is it?” My overthinking takes over. It was eleven years ago, yes. But it was hard, it was breaking. How could I not apologize, or even ask how I can make up for it? I have so much to say, but I await his answer instead.

He shifts, “It is. I’m sorry for…what I said at dinner. It was impulsive and not thought out. I should’ve known not to say that.”

My expression grows dejected. I feel like I should be the one apologizing, so I do.

“Don’t be sorry. At all. I mean– it had to come up either way. I know what I did must’ve affected you all. It affected me a lot. So, I’m sorry. For not reaching out, for leaving everything unsaid.”

His lips curl into a weak smile, “We were all young. We didn’t know the full extent of what you were going through, Kanako. All is forgiven, I promise. I’m just happy to be talking with you now.”

I nod slowly, partially accepting his forgiveness and willingness to move on. It’s hard to believe that’s all there is to it, but I want to believe him. I’m not going to blame myself for the feelings I had because of my failing career and abusive relationship, but I can feel guilt for not talking to them even after the healing. That’s what I thought was best for myself at the time, what would help me move on better.

And maybe it did in some ways, but I now know it just feels good, as well as other things, to be under the same roof as Yoongi again.

And between the beat of silence I get the confidence to ask, “So you and Aimee?”

He throws his head back with an amused smile, “Ah- no. I just ran into her that night and we kind of- kissed. Or something. But she’s way too young for me.”

I’m glad he feels comfortable enough to tell me, but it still stings just a little bit. But they’re not even together. All this overthinking only gave me more stress. Old habits die hard, I guess.

“I see. So you’re…”

“Single? You’re quite nosy, Kanako.”

With a slip of the tongue I say, “I love it when you say my name.” But yet, nothing about it is sensual. It’s like I’m dancing around a thought neither of us want to fully think about. There’s a line.

His gaze becomes gentler, “I know.”

God, he knows?

He grins at me before grabbing the bottle of wine to top off my glass, saying nothing. How could he just say that? It’s impossible to read him right now, which is something I would’ve never expected. If it was eleven years back, that is.

“I’m single.” He responds and sits back comfortably in his chair.

His words sound premeditated, like he knew I would ask. And he would answer. It seems the both of us are being a bit self-indulgent with our questions tonight. But the way he talks to me is seemingly affectionate. He’s no longer carrying me like water in his hands. I’m the glass he’s drinking in.

I still feel inexperienced, something he obviously isn’t anymore. I can’t leech onto anything to make me feel more at ease, not even his presence that radiates heat.

“And you? Were you being honest at dinner or do you have a secret boyfriend?” He teases.

“I’m not sure why I’d keep it a secret.” I laugh, “But no, no one. Just me and Keiko.”

He hums and peers around the room. “Like Jimin said, has there ever been…someone?”

I hesitate for a moment. “I was being painfully honest about that too. I’ve seen guys, I guess. But this city feels so small sometimes I think I’ve run out of options.” I inch my gaze towards him like I’m afraid to know the next answer, “You?” I ask.

“Sort of, yeah. One. I was twenty five and it was only for a year. I just got too busy and she got impatient with me, so we thought to just end it.”

“Was it hard?” I whisper.

“Yeah it was.” He chuckles and scratches the back of his with nervousness, “I loved her but…life just gets in the way. It’s annoying. I’m over it though.”

It feels so odd to talk to him about this. Would you call it exes bonding over exes? Or lack thereof on my part. But I’m glad he’s been loved. That he found that. It’s comforting to know about him, even if I wasn’t there. It hurts, but I’m putting maturity above my feelings.

“So-”

“I wanted to-”

We speak at the same time, sharing casual laughter soon after. I let him go first.

He puffs out, “Uh, I just– wanted to say that…I hope you didn’t feel offended. After I released those songs.” He says repentantly.

“Oh,” I tense up, “Not at all. Not at all. If you felt so musically inclined-”

“Shut up.”

“If you felt so musically inclined to, then I can’t blame you for it, right?”

He titters slightly, swiveling his drink. I can tell he’s relieved by the way his smize stays on his face, but there’s a disinclination to him as the seconds turn into minutes.

He taps his glass, “I meant every word, Kanako.” He says quietly.

There’s no need for repetition, I digest what he said like I’ve been starving for days.

I hang onto every word for what feels like hours, mouth slightly open before I can figure out what I’m going to say. I enjoy seeing him like this, honest. Vulnerable. I want to savor it. It’s sparking something inside of me that I thought had been shriveled into nothing.

“I know, Yoongi.” I make it sound like it’s about to end. This, all of this. Like the feelings we had, or have, are only being brought up in passing. But there’s nothing about this that I’m ready to finalize. I now know, ever since that time I left, that his love for me ran like the ocean. I was the combining waves to his body of water. It’s still there. Am I getting ahead of myself?

As we settle into each other's energy at this moment, it’s a shared realization that there is no fire we have to combat anymore. It’s a mutual source we both want to indulge in. Calm. It would be a lie if I said it wasn’t a stormier, thrashing feeling than I’d planned.

But it’s all the same.

His hand lingers face down on the wrap-around kitchen counter, begging for touch. I keep mine on my glass, not giving in just yet. It could either turn out to be embarrassing or something else I need to procrastinate from dealing with.

“Any other songs I should know about?” I joke.

His expression is stoic, “Most of them.”

My heart skips a couple beats. If I didn’t know any better I’d think I was going into cardiac arrest. With his body language it seems like he’s being completely serious. Completely, utterly serious.

He keeps his gaze on his hand, chuckling to himself.

“What?” I share his amusement with a bit of confusion.

He clenches his jaw.

“I think I’ll go crazy if you don’t touch me, Kanako.”

I’m stunned by his frankness, not being able to speak. Is it now that I’m suddenly at a loss? Why is it now I have nothing to say anymore? All the worry, the thoughts, the stress course through my veins pour out of me as he looks at me. His gaze can’t be more gentle, more loving. But there’s a neediness within him that’s seeping to me. I can’t deny him of that, or myself.

“Yoongi-”

“I need– I don’t even– I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I said that.”

“You don’t?” I ask, because the answer is obvious to me. I want to touch him too. I’m letting my childlike recklessness take over. There’s not one voice in my head saying ‘no’ louder than the ones saying ‘yes’. Yes, yes, yes.

“I don’t know where to start.” He whispers.

“I don’t know either.” I respond. Because the answer to that is obvious as well. It’s painfully, unfortunately obvious. We just want each other, that’s all there is to it. Why speak when we can forget it all? Maybe even start where we left off? That could never happen.

His hand strides over to my face in what feels like a quiet but grand gesture, leaning his body slowly into mine. It’s impulsive, rushed. We both have no idea what we’re doing and what this will lead to.

“Yoongi…” I breathe as he draws his lips closer to me. They’re so shiny, and I remember that cupid's bow so well. His mouth brushes over mine and before I can take another breath, he plants onto me softly. I’m almost too afraid to touch him, knowing it’ll make it all the more real. If I let myself enjoy this moment, will it go too far?

Will I expect things from him he won’t be able to give me? Because I can’t live another eleven years without him. Now that I’m tasting him again, I’m not sure how I even lasted.

It’s slow and his tongue speaks a language that makes the minimal space between us agonizing. Closer, wetter, sensual. It’s what I crave most as his mouth moves with mine in a deep rhythm. I feel the vibration of a low hum coming from this throat, causing me to release the tiniest moan only he could hear. His fingers are relentless with caresses to my jaw, neck, anywhere.

I keep my hands in his hair, diving into the soft strands that were once mine. I follow the natural growth and end up at his neck, tousling with the hair that almost reaches his shoulders. It was never this long, never this thick. Everything about him is pillowy and soft, so easy to get lost in. He’s eating me whole, and I let him.

But, there’s a familiar stinging of discomfort when I try enveloping him fully, something that tugs at my heartstrings. Telling me that this is all too much, it’s too painful. I can taste the spotting of wine in his saliva and can only think to pull away in a sudden movement. I need to click my heels to get back into reality, I need to go home.

“Kanako-” He whispers, caught off guard by my swift action.

“This is all too–I don’t know if I can do this.” I mutter breathlessly, my head still caught up in the moment we had a second ago, the feelings that are boiling to the surface. My insides are twisting and being turned inside out. This is not how I thought any of this would go.

“Don’t do that, not now.” He asserts.

I’m choking up now, the tears that live inside of me never fail to reset whenever I’m caught. But I know exactly what he’s referring to. No need to play dumb. He knew me then and he can recognize me now. Maybe not know me, not fully, but we’re intertwined together whether we like it or not. His eyes scan me, needing an answer. Don’t run away, they say.

“I’m not trying to,” My voice shakes, looking back into his gaze again. “I just–I still, I love you.” I say, like I’ve been holding it back since last night. Because I have, every inch of my body is regurgitating those words like they were never supposed to come up.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, causing me to get up from my seat and try to collect myself. I’m thinking he doesn’t love me back, how could he when it’s been so long? I’m so stupid.

He takes a short breath, “Of course I love you too, Kanako. How could I stop? How could I have ever stopped?” He says almost angrily. He’s frustrated with my need to escape him again. I can sense it.

“It’s been too long, we’re strangers.” I respond, fighting the idea that we could ever go back.

“We need to try. I need to. I couldn’t stop writing songs about you, I couldn’t stop hoping that one day I would find you again. It was never supposed to end that way. Don’t you think so too?” He pleads, his words come out in a blurt-like manner. He’s standing with me as well, his frame still a few inches above me like it was that time ago.

“And then what– everything just turns out perfectly? We all just live like nothing ever happened?” I shake my head in visible denial.

He takes a step closer to me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “No, but we can figure it out. Slowly, but it can happen. Unless you don’t want it to. I can respect that, Kanako. We don’t have to be romantic. Just don’t leave. Pick up my calls, write to me, visit. Anything. Just come back to me.” He whispers. He’s stripped any wall down that stood there previously. We’re now eye-to-eye, lips closening once again.

He’s magnetic. He’s my home. I’ve tried clicking my heels but I always end up back here, with him. Even if it was just in my dreams. But now he’s real, and how could I ever reject something that makes me feel this good? This loved?

And as he pulls me in once more, to kiss me once more, he says, “Let me in.”

So I’m now his, completely. I don’t feel spun around or twisted into nothing, I feel like his lips are the warm blanket wrapping around my aching body. His mouth aids my thoughts and his fingers ease my tense shoulders. I give in to him. He’s promised himself to me and pleaded that I come back to him. So I will. This time with no hesitation.

We’re underneath the roof that hides the night sky but as he holds me to lengthen our kiss, I feel like the stars are twinkling above our heads. Like there’s constellations brushing against my neck and the moon is only inches away. I move our bodies closer to the couch, Yoongi’s back now pressed up against it.

He takes my hint and swiftly walks around the gray fixture, taking my hands so I follow him. I turn to him and push his chest softly so he lays down on the plush cushions, his eyes following every single movement I make. He has this smile he always used to have whenever it was just us. Whenever I’d be above him, tugging at my shirt like I am now.

He sits up, placing his hands over mine that were about to take off my shirt. “Can I do it?” He whispers quietly, desperation leaking off every word. I nod slowly, feeling as he begins to peel off the thin fabric. His fingers brush over my stomach, causing a chill to run down my arms. He gives me goosebumps without having to do anything.

As he has my shirt fall down on the floor, he runs his hands down my stomach slowly, curling his knuckles into the band of my skirt. He shimmies the tight material down my thighs until it pools around my ankles, leaving nothing to the imagination. His eyes carve out the small details of my body, my mind reeling every time he looked me up-and-down as if we were just two strangers ogling each other.

Although he’s seen me before, seen all of me, that version of me doesn’t exist anymore. I have new spots and scars and a good amount of weight that wasn’t there previously. It has me feeling a little self-conscious, hoping he isn’t disappointed. I don’t feel a need for his validation, but his reassurance.

“I don’t have my idol body anymore in case you couldn’t tell.” I joke sheepishly, dropping my head slightly to scan myself.

He pulls me in, having me straddle his now laying body. “You mean you don’t have the same body you did when you were eighteen? That’s normal and completely, totally fine with me. I want you how you are now.” He kisses my fingers individually as he speaks. I sigh into the softness of his lips as they plant on my fingertips, needing more of him.

I then jerk my hand from him playfully, a confused expression morphing on his face.

“I wanna see you now.” I say lowly.

He sets his arms above him like he’s waiting to be undressed which causes a small laugh from me. I lift his shirt off of him, crawling down his body awkwardly for his pants next. “This isn’t as sexy as I’d want it to be.” I mutter.

He chuckles, “But you look cute doing it.” He reaches over to pet my head, which I realize I liked more than I’d be able to admit.

I huff and yank the ankles of his pants to get it over with, once and for all. I let the piece of clothing fall down beside the couch and go back to where I was previously.

He hums, “As much as I like seeing you on top of me, I think we should do this properly. It is our first time, isn’t it?”

A smile extends on my face hearing him say those words, although we’re still doing it on a couch, it’s the effort that counts, right? So I abide, letting him sit up so we can trade places. I feel much younger again with the way everything is so airy. My first time with Haneul wasn’t as loving as I had once thought it was. Nothing about that relationship was loving, but it makes me happy to know that I could do this with Yoongi. As if it was a redo, after all those other men these past eleven years.

I’ve had good sex, don’t get me wrong. But never anything as intimate as this.

As Yoongi hovers over me, he leans down to press his lips against mine. We get back into what was happening earlier, desperately locking into each other. Filling any gaps of space, which resided into Yoongi sneakily sliding his knee between my thighs. There’s heat radiating off of my sensitivity, including a pooling of wetness as he grinds into me.

He looks so hot in his black boxers and I use his nearly nude body to my advantage, caressing his soft shoulders. Every part of his body is warm, it’s real. He’s real. His body has changed too. I can tell he’s been working out a little more. Which is never, ever a bad thing. I can’t get enough of him, bucking my hips into his knee further.

“I’ll give you what you want in a moment,” He teases as his lips part from mine. He kisses down my chin to my neck, licking softly on my collarbones. As his tongue lingers on my skin he lifts my back to unhook my bra almost seamlessly. It causes a gasp from me, feeling the cold air as it bites at my breasts suddenly. His fingers make circles on the sensitive area, teasing my hard nipples.

His mouth travels down my body but his hands stay on my chest until he’s reached the start of my underwear. I arch my back further when I feel his hot breath against my clothed heat, Yoongi pecking a kiss before he redirects his hands. “This okay?” He asks quietly while his hands play with each side of my panties.

“Yes, yes.” I whisper quickly. I need him so badly, his mouth, his tongue. I want him inside of me, most importantly. To know what he feels like on top of me. But I can wait, especially if that means he’ll mouth-fuck me first.

He slides down my underwear slowly, leaving me fully nude. My breath hitches when I feel his hands, quick to spread my legs. He urges me to throw a leg over the couch, so I do. This, I’m not as insecure about. Not when I’m so desperately needy.

His finger glides over the slit of my pussy, “Pretty Kanako. So wet for me. Is it? Just for me?”

I release a shaky breath from my throat, nodding slowly.

“Let me hear you, pretty. Tell me it’s just for me.”

He’s making an absolute puddle of me, literally and metaphorically. Feeling my secretion dripping down to his already drenched finger that’s barely touched me. “Just for you. All for you.” I whine.

My hips stutter against Yoongi’s curious mouth, “That’s my pretty baby,” He purrs into me. He lets his tongue sliver to my opening, flattening the center and licking me slowly.

“Oh– god,” I choke out, feeling his lips suction around my clit and tugging at it teasingly.

His mouth releases in a quiet pop– delving back into his previous motions. His tongue shamelessly digs into me, my wet mess painting his chin erotically. He hums into my pussy with devious intent, knowing the vibrations of his velvety voice would send me into a spiral.

– And it does, my hands trying to grab into anything I could to contain myself. I had to remember we were doing this with three people in the next room over, unfortunately. The only time I didn’t want those boys in the same presence as me. I try to whisper a ‘f-faster’ but all that escapes is a sigh. I think he understands because before I know it, he uses his fingers to spread me open, covered in my slick. His eyes dart to mine,

looking into me as he plants his tongue on my vulnerable clit. My brows furrow and my mouth forms a quiet whimper, feeling him burying his face into my sloppy cunt.

My cheeks are burning with a dark red, sweat forming at my forehead. The sight of his moppy hair and bare skin tugging at my thighs is enough to make me want to call it. I need to know how it’d feel to have all inches of his length in me. I remember how big he was– how much I would’ve given to have him tear me open then. And now the moment is so close, including my approaching orgasm.

His tongue is greedy– and if I didn’t know any better I’d assume this act was for himself. How much he’s sucking and licking me clean, making sure I'm trembling– he loves this.

“I c-can’t come yet– I need you..” I complain as my body says otherwise.

He lifts his head to stop, making sure to replace his tongue with his thumb to play with my clit instead. “You sure? My Kanako doesn’t want to come all over my face? Because I know how much you loved it then.” He retorts. It’s hard to wrap my mind around having a normal conversation in the midst of my shaky legs and swollen clit, so I speak, although foggily.

I place my wrist on my forehead, “I-I do, but I need you inside me. Please.” I plead breathlessly.

His thumb stops and he travels to my upper body slowly, not bothering wiping the glossy slick that’s smeared on his face. Instead he rushes for a kiss, all forms of fluids being swapped between our mouths. “My needy girl.” He taunts with a smirk on his face.

His hands travel to his boxers, taking them off swiftly. My wandering eyes still lock on his lengthy dick, seeing it bounce straight up due to how hard he’s become. There’s a familiar liquid that has the head glistening– precum. He gulps as his eyes look back to my body, hot and swollen. I’m a mess for him, I’m utterly open for him. My fingers trickle down to my saturated pussy, circling my clit to provoke him.

His fingers grip his cock, pumping slowly as he stares at me playing with myself. He’s set in stone, groaning at the scene before him.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He mutters, making gentle eye contact with me. I smile warmly as a thank you, feeling him line his cock against my opening. He pushes in enough to where the tip is fully in, moving his hands so they’re on both sides of me. I grab a handful of his hair, bringing his head into the nape of my neck as he makes his first thrust. I let out a gasp that echoes throughout the lounge room when his thrusts become two, three, until he’s created a slow rhythm to ease us both into it. Kanako, pretty pretty Kanako. I love you so much, love being inside you, he moans into my skin.

As pleasure cases him in a haze, his movements speak for him, his cock twitching with every inch he buries into me. I’ve hit the point where I’m beyond words, just spiraling into the mess he’s created of me. All that’s coming out is pitiful whimpers as my hands grip at his hair and back.

“Y-You’re tightening around my c-cock, you know that?” He moans in disbelief. He removes his head from my neck to sit up right, continuing to pump into me. They’re growing faster by the second but by his sultry eyes I can tell he wants to savor every moment of this. I take in the crevices that outline his skin. The soft muscles around his stomach and his veiny hands that are holding steady on my stomach.

He’s focused on pushing himself further into me, wanting to fill up my insides with as much of his cock as he can. He slips a hand to my ankle that’s resting over the couch, placing it on his shoulder to gain more momentum. My head brushes the arm of the couch as he fastens his pace, watching as he bites his lip. “You look so good underneath me, baby. Keep your eyes on me– wanna see how you look taking all of me,” And so I do, enjoying every single second of my view of him ramming into me like he knows nothing else.

His thumb climbs back over to my clit, rubbing it gently to induce an orgasm from me. I can only assume he’s close, seeing his mouth agape and his thrusts becoming pounds. He’s hitting that spot inside me repeatedly, the overstimulation making me forget about how quiet I’m supposed to be.

“Yoongi…yoongi…fuck-!” His name rolls off my tongue effortlessly.

“Give it to me, pretty. Cover my dick in your cum, please,” He grunts quietly, leaning his head back with elation.

His sweaty bangs hang over his reddened face as he pumps into me in-and-out like clockwork. I watch him clench his jaw, his hold on my calf becoming tighter as his body reaches closer and closer to release. My cunt tightens around him as the thumb he has pressed against my clit becomes too much to bear, tears pricking my eyes. “Yoongi, please–” I whimper loudly, digging my hands into his back.

He groans behind his teeth– snapping his hips to pump into my slick heat, our fluids conjoining together, making his dick glisten with a foggy whiteness. I shut my eyes quickly and let the sensations take over, a rush of warmth starting from my toes to my head.

It makes me hazy in every sense of the word, high off the feeling of his dick hitting my sensitive spot over and over again— whilst he simultaneously circles my swollen clit with the pad of his thumb.

“O-Oh shit–” I moan, my legs nearly going limp underneath him. I feel Yoongi slide his cock out,

grabbing a fistful of my hair to bring my face up to his dick. “Open f-for me, baby,” He demands, and I do so, having him stuff my mouth full of his length.

I place my hands on his hips and stroke him with my tongue, suctioning his hard cock.

“God– fuck!” He moans, tugging at my hair as he paints the inside of my mouth with white. I don’t let go from my grip on his skin, bobbing my head into him to stretch out his orgasm as much as I can. We’re both as tired as can be but watching him from below like this, seeing him unravel, is all I need to keep going.

“Baby– baby…” He cooes as he glides his length from my mouth, collapsing from his knees and pressing his forehead against mine– breathing heavily. He grabs my face with his hands and kisses my mouth lazily, “My Kanako…I love you,” He whispers, moving his lips to scatter pecks all over my face.

“I love you, Yoongi. I love you so much.” I reply lazily, succumbing to his sloppy kisses. He holds me like this for moments on end, forehead pressed against mine. We share each other's air as our chests move fast, heavy. I can see his tired state and yet– he’s unable to let go of me. Breathing me in as I am him, not wanting to end this just yet.

But of course there seems to be always something, especially when it comes to the fact we just had sex on this hotel couch. Nice hotel couch, ‘kay?

“What the actual fuck.” The moment is interrupted, like a dumbbell being dropped on a glass coffee table. I’m struck with the deepest sense of horror and embarrassment, reality hitting me hard and fast. Jungkook is stood there, boxers only, rubbing his eyes as he stares at me and Yoongi. We’re both covered in sex and must smell like it too– Yoongi grabbing a pillow to throw over me.

“Jungkook, this is– it’s-” Yoongi starts, but the young boy cuts him off.

“You guys are really…” He trails off in his scratchy-sleep voice.

I furrow my brows angrily, so many feelings being present at once.

“Just- let me get dressed and we can talk about this.” I urge him, darting my eyes around to emphasize the current situation. My naked body, Yoongi’s now soft dick, and a messy couch.

Jungkook shakes his head and goes back into his room to get dressed as well, is what I choose to assume. The door shuts quietly and I turn to Yoongi– my eyes wide. “Fuck. Fuck.” I whisper yell at him.

“I’m sorry, I know-”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Kanako, he’s older now. He isn’t fifteen anymore, don’t you think he can handle it?” Yoongi questions. I bite my lip and pick up my clothes from the floor, deciding to put Yoongi's bigger shirt on instead of my tight one. I don’t bother snapping my bra back on– too much work.

I answer while changing, “There’s other conflicts at hand. I think you know what they are.” I respond. Yoongi grows faint, only nodding.

As I struggle to put on my skirt I decide to leave it off, knowing the baggier top will cover whatever my underwear can’t. “Just let me talk to him. I’ll be back. Tell him to meet me out there.” I say evenly, pointing my gaze to the balcony.

Yoongi sighs in acceptance and plants a kiss on my forehead, “As long as you come back.”

JULY 11TH, 2023, 3:30AM

I stand on the balcony, arms resting on the railing. There couldn’t be anything more nostalgic than standing out here. Under the stars in this summer air. Reminds me of all those good and bad moments I had in their dorms. This would be the perfect way to end this night– if it wasn’t for what just happened.

I hear Jungkook behind me, his hand closing the sliding door. “Hey.” He mutters.

“Jungkook…” I say almost immediately, needing to hash whatever it is to come.

“You know it’s funny,” He shifts, walking next to me with his hands stuffed in his pockets.“When I got here at first, I didn’t even know it had a balcony. It’s covered behind those curtains, but I felt drawn to it. So I opened them and discovered this. You were the first thing I thought of when I got out here.”

“Really?” I ask, entertaining the sudden change in topic. If it keeps me from having to talk about what he walked into, I’ll gladly do so.

“Kanako, you pop up into my head at least once a day.”

“For the past eleven years?”

His mouth stutters before he speaks, “Never skipped a day. I…don’t think any of us went a full twenty-four hours without thinking of you.”

I whisper a small ‘oh’, looking at him fondly. The night sky shadows his face perfectly, following the curvature of his nose to his lips. That lip ring, I can’t deny it looks great on him. My eyes

can’t help but trail to the sleeve on his arm, scattered in permanent ink. I crave for the mutuality we had before. But I don’t regret doing what I did with Yoongi, even if it makes me selfish.

“What about you?” He meets my eyes, “Did you ever think about me?”

I ache at his voice, hearing him ask that. Like he should know. He needs to know.

“Every day.” I confess easily. I’ve been needing to say that. “I’m sorry I didn’t call…or-or pick up. I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t…” My voice gets shaky and my throat gets caught.

He wraps his arm around me casually, like he used to before. This time it’s able to loop around my shoulder fully, and it covers more. It’s solid and warm, comforting.

“I forgive you.” He says, placing a kiss on my head. I nuzzle into his embrace, accepting the forgiveness I don’t think I deserve. Maybe I will one day, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for everything I lost.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” I smile, persevering through the stinging that’s currently ripping me in two. A beat of silence floats above us, but it isn’t unwanted. It’s singing softly, like background music. I settle into the darkness of the sky, enjoying the feeling of having him here again.

I always dreamt about this. About seeing them, him, Yoongi, all over again. I’m so content. But still, there’s a question. Undeclared queries my mind is aching to figure out the answer to.

“Jungkook–”

“I know.”

“But-”

“I’ll get over it.”

He sucks in his teeth, nodding as if accepting his fate. I shake my head and separate my body from his. He looks at me like I’m being difficult, “Kanako, let’s not do this.” He argues.

I bite the inside of my cheek, “I can’t…be truly happy with Yoongi if you’re in pain. It’s not fair.”

His expression softens. It’s almost like he’s the eldest, the one to talk me down. It makes me devastated to see him take on this role. The bigger person, the mature one.

“I can’t be truly happy if you’re not. I love you, so that means I want the best for you. I-I would’ve fought for you. I could’ve. God Kanako– the things I would’ve done to have you–” He chuckles to himself, running a hand through his messy hair, “But you’ve never been mine.” He finishes, pupil’s still focused on me.

You’ve never been mine. Those words pain me, thinking of what he must’ve felt through all of this. The heartbreak, the loss, and now the rejection. If only I could feel what he felt, if I could aid his pain in some way. The thought of giving up Yoongi for Jungkook is not at all an easy one, not one I’d choose in this lifetime. The boy was never that to me. if I could be two different people, just so he could have a part of me in the way he wants, I would.

But that’s not possible. It never will be.

I exhale heavily, processing everything he’s just said. Everything that’s happened the past few hours.

“How did it even come to that? The last thing I remember…” I whisper.

“It wasn’t until you were gone, like really really gone, Kanako. I was just a kid, I didn’t know what those feelings were. How I felt about…a life with you. One that was different than I initially thought. And when I finally did I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I needed to talk to you, to know if that could ever happen.”

“Is that why? You called for-for months?”

He looks down, “Towards the end, yeah. Until it was clear that you didn’t want to be…known anymore. I know different now, obviously. But, it broke me. I was so angry that every girl I was ever with was compared to you. Every girl I wanted was just a replica of you. I mean– whatever. It’s…whatever.” He shrugs and shifts his gaze back to the streets before us.

I peer my head over to him, “I’m sorry, Jungkook. I’m so sorry. I wish…that I could-”

“Don’t do that to me, Kanako. Please.” He mutters, still refusing my direction.

I reach my finger for his chin, tilting it towards me. There’s watery tears pooling his eyes, making me crumble at the sight. I would do anything to heal his hurt, to make this all the easier. But would it be selfish of me to choose Yoongi? There is no other option for me, besides no one at all.

I don’t love Jungkook the way he wants me to, I don’t think I ever could. He holds a big piece of my heart, one made especially for him. He fits into the crevice so perfectly, but the space for anything more is nonexistent. I could never kiss him the way I do Yoongi, never look at him like a lover. He’s my Jungkook. While Yoongi holds the position of soulmate, Jungkook is my twin flame. Connected by familiarity and nostalgia, everything that has to do with the word ‘home.’

He smiles, the one he does where I can see his two front teeth. He’s back.

“I won’t. Just stay by our side again, okay?” He says, though I know through layers of pain.

He almost jumps at me– bringing me in for a tight hug. I go on my tip-toes slightly to rest my chin on his shoulder, surrendering all my tension into his arms. “I’ll stay. I’ll stay, Kookie.”

He hums and rocks me slightly, from side-to-side. I reach my hand over his arm to wipe the small drops that were close to running down my face. This time, and maybe one of the firsts, the tears being happy ones. Pure, indescribable bliss runs through my body like clear river water, knowing I’m back with them for good.

“You’ll be here tomorrow, right? We can go to breakfast and maybe some art galleries?” Jungkook sniffles, parting from the hug.

I sigh whilst my body cringes, thinking of work. Fuck.

“I have to go to work tomorrow, my boss needs me to review some stuff.” I whine, showing my blatant annoyance.

He frowns, “You can’t call out?”

I puff out, placing my hands on my hips. “Jungkook.”

“Sorry, sorry. That’s okay, I suppose. But you’ll make it to visit us before our flight? It’s at 6 pm, but you can see us at four-thirtyish, before we head out so you’re not caught by paparazzi or something.”

I nod quickly, “Yes, absolutely. I can do that.”

Some quietness passes, he shuffles his feet awkwardly.

“What?” I squint, confused.

“Well, what about…after? Will we hear from you? WIll you…visit?” He mumbles coherently enough to where I can understand. I hesitate, but only for a millisecond. I’m sure of it now, all of it. I won’t run away. Not when it’s good for me. And they’re good for me.

A part of me flickers thinking of Korea again. But I think it’ll look different, feel different. I’m embracing the old Kanako as much as the new one. If anything, I’m excited to experience it as the person I am now. See it in a different lens. Maybe I’ll visit the Han River again, ride bikes with Namjoon and have picnics with Yoongi.

And most importantly, I know my mothers spirit resides there. She isn’t a ghost to me anymore, something I’m afraid of. Keiko’s made it easier to celebrate her. I can do that again. With them.

I reassure the young boy, “I’ll call, text, send letters, and facetime. And…maybe I’ll stop by for a visit or two. Possibly stay at your place?” I bite my lip, staring up to him teasingly. Knowing he’ll definitely like the idea of me sleeping over like all those times before.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, “Sure, yeah. Whatever. You’re gonna have to tell Yoongi that he’s gonna have to split the time up…or we’ll just share the bed again.”

“I’m nearly thirty, Jungkook. I can’t do that.”

He pouts.

I roll my eyes in response, “Ok. Maybe.”

The sliding door opens once more, a now-dressed Yoongi peering from inside. Jungkook tenses just a bit, not saying anything as he enters.

“Everything..okay?” Yoongi asks, folding his arms to protect himself from the slight cold that lingers.

I smile at Jungkook who in turn eases back up.

“I was actually just telling Jungkook,” I turn back to Yoongi, “That I’ll be visiting you guys before you head off for the airport. Work and stuff.” I finish. Jungkook nods in agreement, shoving me playfully. “Tell him what else.” He whispers.

I suck in a breath, “Andddd, I’ll be visiting you soon. In Korea. So don’t get sick of me just yet.”

He follows to where me and Jungkook are, placing his elbows on the balcony railing. We all look at each other fondly, taking mental pictures of this moment.

Yoongi exhales, “If you're the one taking care of me, I hope I get sick all the time.”

Jungkook cringes, “That was so bad, hyung.”

JULY 11TH, 2023, 4:27PM

There’s been many times throughout my work day that I’ve fallen asleep. If it wasn’t for this day being especially busy, I would’ve passed out on my desk. But everything in me was fighting to stay conscious. Not because I was needed, but because of the boys.

Embarrassingly so, they were my main priority of the day. I made sure I got everything done just in time to clock out early, rushing to gather my things and speeding out the door.

Now I sit in an Uber in the middle of traffic. The hotel they’re staying at is ten minutes away by car but fifteen minutes on foot. I bounce my leg anxiously as I dart my gaze from my phone to the busy road. The minutes are passing quickly and I can’t seem to slow time down.

“Five o’clock traffic, right?” The driver laughs, tapping the wheel to the song that’s playing on the radio.

My brows are furrowed and I’m biting my lip, hard. Ignoring whatever the man at the front said when my thoughts become deafening.

Shit. I have no choice.

It’s already four-thirty, so I grip the door handle and apologize profusely.

“Sorry! Sorry! I’ll pay you for the full thing! Bye!” I exclaim, opening the door. I grab my bag and throw it over my body, cross-bodying it. I look down to my sneakers that I swapped out before I left for work, thanking God I didn’t forget my usual routine. New York is the most walk-able, non-walk-able city to ever exist. You always need a pair of these if you are gonna go anywhere. Or, suffer for the intention of beauty. That, I’ve done plenty.

Anyway, I start running. Full on sprinting. I know starting off with such speed will only tire myself out. But, I need to get there on time. I can’t have them thinking I’m bailing on them. As I pass the confused, scared people I grow to be beyond shame at this point.

I throw my hands over my breasts to keep them still, again, beyond shame. I pass by stores, outlets, apartments, and this run is probably the most cardio I’ve done since my idol days. I can see the entrance of the hotel inching closer, yet I have so many crosswalks I still need to pass.

One by one I wait every single time. Safety first?

I’m a heavy-breathing, sweaty-hairline mess by the time I’ve met with the last crosswalk. There’s already paparazzi hiding behind cars and bushes, ready to sneakily snapshot the moment those boys leave the building.

I have to think fast as I approach the hotel, not knowing how I could possibly hide my face. I could not, in any shape or form, have my face back in the tabloids connected to BTS’s name. There’s already enough of that in the news now, considering the release of their book.

I did snoop around during my lunch break, seeing old photos that somehow leaked. Ones where I know staff took them, which is disappointing knowing they probably turned those in just for a couple hundred bucks. It’s nothing defaming to the boys or me, just private moments I wish had stayed private.

So, my name is already circulating around. I dig in my bag for an old face mask that’s been there for months, probably. I throw it on my face and release my hair from my ponytail, attempting to hide as much of my features as I can.

I take a deep breath as I begin the pathway to the hotel doors. I attempt to look as casual as I can, passing the paparazzi as a regular city-goer. Just a very rich woman who is always staying at this hotel, nothing to see. Nothing to notice.

I reach my hand for the door handle until it bursts open, knocking me to the ground suddenly. Namjoon stands with luggage in hand, stunned and apologizing profusely before really understanding what just happened. I too am confused, rubbing my butt in pain and the brightest red shading my cheeks. I just got knocked down in front of all these paparazzi, and as I see Jimin my eyes widen when he shouts loudly, “KANAKO! NAMJOON, YOU IDIOT!”

The blonde, leather-jacketed man drops his suitcase to run to my rescue, helping me from the ground. The snapshots of cameras become faster, flashier, seeing the very popular star assisting the woman they now know as Kanako Fujishima.

The retired, scandalous idol.

Jungkook and Yoongi are close behind, witnessing the sight of my disheveled state.

JK splits through Joon and Jimin, “Kanako, we thought you couldn’t make it!” He exclaims, hugging me even with the prowling eyes.

I hold him firmly, warmly. Feeling relief knowing I could still see them off.

“I jumped out of my Uber to be here if that tells you anything. I had to see you guys before you left, you know.” I smile through my teeth as I speak.

Yoongi peers from Jungkook's broad shoulders in a baggy white button-up, paired with even baggier black sweats. He looks amazing even with such little effort, and I couldn’t be happier to see his face.

The events of last night rush past the walls of my mind, having to push them down if I was ever wanting to speak normally again. I attempt to not become a stuttering mess, feeling like a nervous mess with a school crush.

“Hi Yoon.” We share a breathy laugh before he pulls me in his arms as well.

“You’ve never called me that before.” He says, his embrace making all of my surroundings suddenly melt into the back of my mind.

The cameras haven’t halted their flashing and I try not to picture the headlines in my head when I hear them, overlapping one another.

He pulls away from me, taking a risky hand to caress my face. Pulling the face mask off my face, he tucks it into his pocket.

“Yoongi, there’s people–”

“I know.”

He eyes my lips in a swift move before dipping his head to kiss me. His cupid bow lines perfectly with mine, moving in a soft flow. It’s nothing ostentatious by any means, not even heated. It’s short and enough to say something, but not shout it.

I’m the first to break the kiss in an anxiety-induced cloud, looking at him, my expression completely bewildered.

“So…” I say in one breath, pursing my mouth in an even line. I look around to the gawking pedestrians and then to Yoongi, who’s enamored…by me? He has an uncomplicated gleam in his eyes that isn’t fading. His hand drops to his side, head nodding to the paparazzi.

“They don’t matter to me, just you. I love you, Kanako.” He states, his sure gaze pressing into my unraveled smile.

“I love you. I love you,” I repeat, giving him one last kiss before grabbing his suitcase to hand to him.

He accepts it hesitantly, brushing our hands together. The boys taking that as the cue to start moving into the car. They all give me more hugs, more temporary good-byes as they step inside the shiny, black vehicle.

It’s bittersweet, seeing them getting ready to leave. Bitter because I can’t wait to see them, him, again.

But sweet because I know I will see them again. I’m strong enough now. There’s not a doubt in my mind that I’ll be on the next flight to Seoul as soon as I’m able to. And who knows? Maybe I’ll gain the courage to relocate. Perhaps Keiko and I can use a change of scenery. She’s never been to South Korea, and I know with her and the boys by my side, I’ll soothe into it.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I’m too excited not to.

Before Yoongi enters the car he turns to me, giving me a gummy smile that buzzes through my body instantaneously.

“I’ll see you back home.” He says.

click here to start from the beginning!

an: holy shit you guys. this has been so healing and so fun for me to write this past month. seeing this community of people enjoy my writing has been so extremely eye-opening and crazy since this has always been a passion of mine! thank you, thank you, thank you for tuning into to all chapters of cool about it! and to readers who are joining after it’s all finished, thank you too for keeping it alive!

im thinking about doing little drabbles or one-shots here and there (of all the members bc ot7) as well so stay tuned for that!

don’t get sick of me just yet!

love you all. thank you.