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oddinary4bts · 9 months

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Now We Reign | myg

☆summary: when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?

☆pairing: Min Yoongi x singer female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: work collaborators to lovers, idol!au, smut, angst, fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, cursing, OC has family problems similar to those Yoongi went through, financial insecurity, loneliness, cheating but not cheating because they are on a break, sexist interviewer, explicit content: grinding, dom!reader, switch!Yoongi, big dick!Yoongi, oral sex (male and female receiving), jerking off, face riding, tits/nipples play, hickey, fingering, protected sex, choking, clit play, denied orgasms (due to consensual drunk sex), fingering, mentions of anal sex, handcuffs, anal plug, anal fingering

☆word count: 34.9k

☆a/n: it’s so weird to post something other than The Forgotten Spaces :’) I hope you’ll still enjoy this! As per always, thank you to @moonleeai for her incredible work as my beta reader! You’re the best <3

☆Read the other installments in the Life Goes On series here!

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Seven months ago

Music had always been home to you. A refuge, a safe haven from your family life as you had grown up. It had been held in the keys of your piano, and in the pages of your diary. Songs after songs, lines underlined and others erased. Clever play of words, rhymes and music to accompany it. Some of them had made it to your first EP, but most you had tried to forget.

Your past wasn’t one you wanted to revisit. Not when you had gotten a deal with a record label, something you hadn’t expected to happen at such a young age.

Idol life had never been something you were aiming for. You chose the backstreets, the smaller scene, and produced indie music as you went. It still got you a following, one that had been growing through the years, until your name was known all over Seoul.

You wondered if it had reached your hometown too, but the silence on your phone was clear enough: even if your parents had heard, their older daughter had been dead to them a long time ago. You had stopped caring through the years, pouring your hate for your family in your songs. You had even dived in the genre of rap a little. Rhythm and poetry, laced together until you lost yourself in the music.

It was different from your usual, but it had gotten the attention of a big name in the music industry. He had suggested a collaboration, offering to produce the song. All you had to do was help with the lyrics, though you were pretty sure he had that part covered. Of course he also wanted you to record some parts of the song for him, needing a female voice to be able to carry the meaning. Nothing too complicated.

After all, Min Yoongi already was a successful established artist. Far more successful than you ever thought you would be. It had taken you by surprise, when he had contacted you. It had been a random Tuesday night, and your agent had been going crazy, so much so you had had to tell him to calm down otherwise you were going to drop the collab. Minhyuk hadn’t needed more to oblige, and you had found yourself working on the song in the following weeks.

You weren’t surprised when Min Yoongi came to you with an almost finished version of the song. You had tweaked some parts, and surprisingly enough, he had trusted the changes. Even if you had made him rework one of his own verses, Yoongi had listened to you intently, and had seen the intelligence behind your suggestions.

You could only hope he would see the intelligence between the changes you wanted to make now. Because the song was set to release in a few weeks, and you were pretty convinced he didn’t like last minute changes.

Maybe that was why you found yourself going to his place, with a whiskey bottle as an offering so he wouldn’t be too mad.

Yes, you knew where Min Yoongi lived. In a far more luxurious condo building compared to your own, with a huge condo that stood on two stories of the upper levels. It offered him a beautiful view of the city, though you had yet to visit at night. Indeed, he had only made you come here once, on one of the early Saturdays of your collab.

You realized as you stood in front of the building that this was stupid. You hadn’t even texted or called him in advance to inform him of your impromptu visit. Had only decided the changes about an hour ago, and had rushed to the liquor store to grab the expensive bottle you currently held.

But life seemed to have plans for you. Other than that of running away into the night before you had the chance to embarrass yourself. That is, life had planned for you to run into Min Yoongi as he was walking back home, and you both stood facing each other for a few awkward seconds before you collected yourself, offering him a respectful bow.

“Seonbaenim,” you greeted him, and you hesitated before you straightened.

His hands were in his pockets, protecting him from the cold the evening held. He had an unreadable expression on his features, as if the sight of you was an inconvenience, but he didn’t want to let it show.

You weren’t stupid enough to believe collaborating with him had made you friends. Min Yoongi was a professional through and through, in everything he did. Apart from his members, you knew he didn’t mix work and personal life.

He said your name, and for a second you thought you saw confusion on his features. “What are you doing here?”

You stood there, not knowing what to say for what probably was a good ten seconds but felt like an eternity. His eyes flitted to the whiskey bottle, and you were pretty sure a disapproving look passed in his gaze, not lingering long enough for you to be sure you had truly seen it.

“I have some suggestions to make for the song,” you said. Your voice held strong, even though you felt incredibly uncomfortable under his stare.

His eyes widened a little, and his lips parted for a second before his mouth fell shut again. He looked behind you, to the hall of his building, before settling his gaze on you again.

“What do you have in mind?”

Oof. At least he was letting you talk. “It’s for the last bridge,” you started. “I think I could sing the last part differently. It’s lacking emotion.”

Yoongi had bothered you about emotion a lot when you had first been recording. Had told you he was surprised you couldn’t carry your usual emotion in this song. Which meant he had listened to your album, and you hadn’t known what to make of it for a time.

But you knew mentioning emotion was the way to go. Indeed, Yoongi slightly tilted his head to the side, still as unreadable, but you were convinced he was considering it.

“What makes you think you can get it better this time?”

There were no clues in his tone to let you know what he might have been thinking.

You had to refrain from scoffing. “I have what you need, trust me.”

He pursed his lips, just a little. A crack in his professional mask.

Because the song held sadness. The angry nostalgic kind. And hadn’t it been for the fact your parents hadn’t even deigned to call you for your birthday, you probably wouldn’t have found the right emotion in you to deliver the performance Yoongi had first wanted from you.

“Very well,” he said, nodding once. “You can record it in my home studio.”

You nodded too, agreeing to his invitation. You weren’t foolish enough to pass on the opportunity. You fell into step with Yoongi as he started moving towards the door again, the bottle of whiskey heavy in your hand.

“I brought a gift to apologize for being here so late,” you tentatively said. Not really knowing what approach to take when it came to the ice radiating off Min Yoongi today.

He had never been openly cold before. But you could feel it in the hard stretch of his shoulders, and the muscle that feathered on his jaw whenever he clenched it. Something was upsetting him, something that had made him go on a walk at a late hour just to clear his mind.

You were familiar with such walks. You getting to his place had started as a walk like that. Until you had seen the liquor store and decided to be gone with formalities.

You hadn’t expected him to let you see his emotions. Even if a minute ago you had been at a loss with how he felt, now you could physically feel the anger on him. But ever so the professional and gentleman, Yoongi held the door open for you, breathing in one last time the cold air of the night before he stepped in behind you.

And just like that the unbreakable mask was back in place. It wasn’t like you minded: like him, you prided yourself in your professionality. Just because Yoongi was a big name in the industry didn’t mean that you were going to forfeit your nature.

Maybe that was the reason why the elevator ride was so awkward. Yoongi had dived his hands back in his pockets as soon as he had hit the call button, and then after he had pressed on his level. You were just standing next to him, and the silent elevator smoothly went up the floors until you reached his. You found yourself straining to look ahead, avoiding to glance at him.

He seemed as if he needed privacy, and you were not going to be the one to take it from him. Fortunately, the whiskey bottle was a rock in the awkwardness, keeping you steady even as your head turned from wanting to disappear. It gave you something to do as the elevator moved, and you almost dreaded the moment it would come to a stop.

So you did the only thing you knew how to do. You thought about your parents, about the phone that hadn’t rang today, and you clenched your jaw as the emotions swarmed in.

Min Yoongi wasn’t the only one in a mood.

The elevator halted, slowing on its hinges until it had fully stopped. The doors slid open, and Yoongi walked out. You took a steadying breath before following him, and you looked away as he typed the code to his condo on the pad on his door.

Fancy condo buildings and their technologies be damned.

The pad whirred as it unlocked the door, and a few seconds later, you were in Min Yoongi’s condo. You breathed in, inhaling the remaining scent of a home-cooked meal. It smelled good, infinitely better than what you could cook, and your stomach had the nerve to growl as you watched Yoongi take off his shoes.

You fought the blush that was creeping on your cheeks as Yoongi glanced at you. “Have you not eaten dinner?”

You hadn’t. You had tried getting seaweed soup, but just the thought of eating it alone for your birthday had made you sick to your stomach. The only thing that was fueling your body today was the coffee you had drunk this morning and the sandwich you had forced yourself to eat at lunch time.

“Sorry,” you apologized. “I’ll get something to eat at the convenience store after, it shouldn’t be too long anyway.”

He watched you carefully, and you wondered if he could tell you were in a mood. You didn’t even know if he cared. He didn’t really seem as if he did, because he only nodded his head curtly before motioning to some slippers left abandoned by the door.

“You can put these on,” he told you, and then he was walking down the hall, shrugging off his coat.

You watched him go with a confused expression, before you did as told. You hesitated for a good minute before you followed him, almost feeling as if you were intruding on his personal space.

In all truth, you were very much so intruding on his personal space.

You didn’t remember much of his condo from your first visit. He had directly guided you to the studio, which was on the second floor. First door to the left. But tonight he hadn’t gone straight for that, so you followed the sounds until you reached a kitchen area.

Yoongi was putting some food in a bowl. Jajjangmyeon, from the looks of it, and you surveyed him as he slid the bowl in his microwave, before shutting the door and dialing the cooking time.

He turned to look at you, before motioning at some glasses he had put on the island, under the expensive looking chandelier.

“Why don’t you pour us a drink?” he suggested. “I’m reheating a plate for you, I don’t want your stomach to be gurgling while you record.”

You would have been embarrassed had this not been the first kind thing someone had done for you today.

Indeed, you didn’t have a lot of friends. Kept most of them at a distance, and none really knew when your birthday was. Mostly because you hated birthdays and had always thought them to be useless. Just another mark to add on the calendar, another year gone by without any news from your family.

“You don’t have to,” you said, and pink tinted your cheeks as you moved in.

He folded his arms on his chest, leaning against the counter. His eyes held an intensity you shied from as you focused on the glasses instead. “I would do it for anyone I collab with.”

You pursed your lips, nodding slightly, and the room fell silent except for the buzz of the microwave. You stopped in front of the glasses, putting the bottle down next to them. Not really knowing what to say to fill the silence, you uncorked the bottle, and the oaky scent of the whiskey filled your nose.

The familiar smell eased your nerves a little, and you poured the two glasses as Yoongi fished the bowl out of the microwave. He put it down next to you, and you glanced up to meet his face.

You hadn’t realized it before, but Yoongi had pretty features. His face was round, just a little, softening the edges of him, and his eyes were like gems on his face, shining in the light from the chandelier.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, before grabbing one of the glasses to give to him.

He bowed in thanks, taking the glass from you before inhaling the whiskey. “That’s an expensive bottle.”

You chuckled. “I felt bad for coming over so late.”

“It could have waited until tomorrow.”

It wasn’t reproachful, the way he said it. Just a statement, and maybe even a question. As much as he was professional, Min Yoongi wasn’t an asshole. He knew you were going through something, and although he clearly didn’t want to prod, he also didn’t want to pretend as if everything was okay.

You shrugged. “I tend to live my emotions quickly. If you want a raw result, then it had to be tonight.”

He wet his lips, and his eyes fell to the jajjangmyeon. “Then eat so we can get to work.”

*****

You finished recording for the fifth time. Each time Yoongi had suggested something a little different, something he believed would work better for the song. Less angry, more sadness. Find nostalgia and all that same crap.

You expected it when Yoongi said, “Let’s do it one more time. I think we almost have it.”

You glanced at him where he was sitting at his computer. You considered biting his head off, but then you nodded curtly.

He was right, there was way too much anger in your voice. So you shut your eyes, thinking about fifteen-year-old you having to leave your parents’ house because, “we won’t support you if you decide to give up on your life for some stupid dream”. You thought about you, living in the backroom of an old man’s restaurant, working shifts for him in exchange for a place to live, until you had been old enough to move to Seoul. You focused on the loneliness, on the knowledge that there was no one in this world at your side.

It always hit harder on your birthday, didn’t it?

When you felt ready, your eyes fluttered open, and you nodded at Yoongi, indicating that he could start the track you listened to for recording. You let the music fill you, syncing your soul with the chords that filled your ears until you were one with it. Until it was time to sing. Then you started singing, eyes shutting instinctively. You let the emotions guide your voice, let the loneliness formulate the lyrics.

It was over before you even realized it. The track fell silent, and still you kept your eyes shut.

“That was perfect,” Yoongi complimented you.

Even that wasn’t enough to bring your eyes to open. You had to take a few breaths, fighting the urge to break down that had taken over you. When the wave passed, you let your vision adjust to the world again, though it was blurry behind the bitter tears. You blinked them away, ignoring the feeling of Yoongi’s heavy gaze on your profile.

“Fucking finally,” you muttered, and you stepped away from the mic, taking off the headset.

Yoongi followed you with his eyes as you moved closer, putting the headset down next to his keyboard. “Don’t you want to hear?”

“I don’t need to.”

It wasn’t even confidence that motivated your words. Just nostalgia. Yoongi offered you a curt nod, before listening to it himself. He seemed satisfied with the result, because he nodded his head, rolling his chair away from the desk as he folded his arms on his chest. His gaze locked with yours, and a smile ghosted on his lips.

“I’ll send you the final result tomorrow,” he said.

You pursed your lips. “Sounds good. I guess I’ll get going then.”

You had half turned away from him when he spoke up. “Don’t you want another drink? That bottle was expensive.”

It really was. Way too expensive for your light wallet, but Yoongi was a whiskey connoisseur. You couldn’t have shown up with something less. Even if the bottle could have paid for your groceries for at least two weeks.

It wasn’t like you needed to eat three meals a day anyway, right? And with the money you were ought to make from the song, you could tighten the belt for a couple of weeks more.

“It’s fine,” you reassured him. “It’s late, I shouldn’t stay.”

Yoongi nodded, getting up from his chair. He hadn’t finished his glass yet, and he held your gaze as he downed it in one long gulp. You watched his throat muscle work, before letting your gaze drop to the ground.

“I’ll let you leave with the bottle then,” he said after he swallowed. “I have plenty of them already.”

“You really don’t have to,” you quickly said, with a panicked gaze.

He was smiling now. It took you by surprise. “Then you’re going to stay and drink another glass with me, mmh? We’re allowed to celebrate finishing the song.”

Hopefully it was the loneliness in you that made you say yes, and not the softness that took over Yoongi’s features. He seemed relieved, as if he had been embarrassed to ask, but he recovered quickly guiding you back to the kitchen area downstairs.

This time around, you took your time to admire his condo. To admire the simple elegance of the place. It was far more luxurious than your own apartment, which was a one bedroom with a single working light and water stains on the ceiling. Yoongi’s place was all but that. It was full of light, spotless, with scattered pieces of art to decorate. Nothing too excessive or fancy, and it almost made the condo look a little empty. As if Yoongi hadn’t really taken the time to decorate.

Or maybe he had just recently moved in, and his busy schedule was keeping him from decorating more.

“You’re lucky this is my favourite bottle,” he said with a friendly smile as you stopped next to the kitchen island, where you had left the whiskey earlier.

“Glad my guess was right.”

He wet his lips, before pouring himself another glass. He grabbed yours from the sink, pouring you a glass as well before offering it to you. “And here I thought you were a connoisseur.”

You didn’t have the money to be a connoisseur, so you just offered him a secretive smile, followed by, “Maybe I am”.

He chuckled, and then guided you to the living room. Another spacious room, with a rug in front of the couch you assumed was worth more than everything you owned. You tried not to let it show on your face, but you were pretty sure Yoongi could tell you were impressed.

The feeling was entirely replaced by surprise at the sight of the little dog that was sleeping in a dog bed under the wide window.

“Why haven’t I seen that dog before?” you asked, eyes widened.

“You like dogs?”

You nodded, and you took a couple of steps towards the animal. It almost looked dead where it was lying, but then the little dog looked up at you, blinking away sleepy eyes.

“He’s called Holly,” Yoongi provided as the dog got up, stretching and yawning. “He’s lazy.”

You faked offence for the dog. “Poor little baby, he’s just tired.”

Yoongi laughed, and the sound made you quickly look away from him. As much as it had been unexpected, it did wonders to the sadness that had been clinging to your form all day.

“Sorry Holly.”

It was your turn to laugh as the little dog barked before running to Yoongi, begging to be picked up. Yoongi took a sip of whiskey, before putting his glass down on the coffee table. He sat down on the couch, cuddling the dog to his chest as he got comfortable.

It was so domestic you just stood there, staring at him. He motioned to the couch next to him. “Have a seat.”

It broke the spell, and you blinked a few times before obeying, busying yourself with sipping the whiskey to ignore the way your cheeks were burning.

“How long have you had the dog?” you asked, trying to fill the silence that was threatening to fall into awkwardness.

And as Yoongi started telling you the tale of how he got his dog, you slowly settled yourself more comfortably on the couch, drinking the whiskey as you enjoyed listening to him. He looked far friendlier than you had ever seen him, and it slowly became easy to forget you were just a collaborator.

Maybe if it hadn’t been your birthday, you would have refused the third glass he offered. And maybe, maybe if your mind hadn’t started fogging with the alcohol, you would have refused the fourth.

By the time you started the fifth, you were drunk, and Holly had gone into hiding somewhere, letting you sit closer to Yoongi on the couch. Luckily enough for you, you could stand your alcohol pretty well, and you forced a mask on your features so Yoongi couldn’t tell just how inebriated you were.

Not that he was faring any better. Yoongi had a red flush to his cheeks, and he had run his hand in his hair earlier in a way that had let it ruffled. It made him look good, and you tilted your head to the side as you listened to him tell you about his recent concerts in Vegas.

“It’s funny,” you sighed as he fell silent to drink from his glass. “While you were having shows in Vegas I was busking in Hongdae.”

He swallowed the oaky alcohol, licking his lips dry from the drops that had lingered on them. “I saw videos of you busking.”

Your eyes widened, and you let out a small chuckle. “Please save me the embarrassment.”

He laughed, slightly shaking his head. As if the thought of you being embarrassing was the funniest joke he had ever heard in his life.

“Don’t be embarrassed, I’ve been there too.”

An eternity ago, maybe. But the condo around you looked nothing like someone that used to be a busker. “You’ve had far more success than I’ve ever had,” you said, voice low.

His eyes connected with yours, and for a moment all there was was the synchronized beating of your hearts. He was the one to break the contact, and it almost felt as if you were going to fall forward from the rupture.

“You’ll get your success too,” he whispered. “Your music is amazing.”

You blushed, but the flush from the alcohol did a good job at hiding it. “I do hope so.”

A smile played on his lips as he swirled the whiskey in his glass. He played with the rim of the glass, almost pensively. “Army will love your music.”

“Thank you,” you murmured. “For giving me this opportunity.”

“You deserve it.”

His gaze moved back to yours. Yoongi had pretty eyes, deep eyes that told tales of suffering and healing. He had gone through a lot, to get where he was now. From the interviews you had listened to, you actually had a similar past to his. And you felt understood, as he gazed at you. With a softness to his eyes you had never really seen anywhere else.

Min Yoongi had experienced the worst this world has to offer, but he had also experienced the best. You could only hope your turn would come someday.

You took a sip, holding his gaze for a moment, before cowering away. “You know,” you started. And you didn’t really know what to say. Only thought he might understand. “It was my birthday, today.”

He straightened, surprise moving on his drunken features. “Was it?”

You nodded.

“Happy birthday,” he said, with a grave voice.

You shifted a little closer to him, only because he was looking at you with too much intensity for you to resist. The air turned warm, hot, filled with expectancy.

“Thank you.” You wet your lips, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darted to your mouth before meeting your gaze again. “Thank you for letting me record it.”

“I hope it helped.”

Another nod of your head, as you took yet another sip of the whiskey. This time mostly because the feeling inside of you needed to be ignored. To be avoided at all costs.

Too bad alcohol kills the inhibition, right?

You couldn’t even tell who did the first move. All you knew was that your glass was snatched from your hands, put down on the coffee table and then you were tasting the alcohol on Yoongi’s lips. The kiss was ravaging, taking your loneliness and burning it down, until all you could feel was Yoongi’s body under your hungry hands.

His own hands were all over you too. On your back, on the nape of your neck, in your hair. One large hand sneaked to the front until it had wrapped around your breast, and you moaned in his mouth. You grabbed a handful of his hair and sucked on his bottom lip as he pulled you closer.

You climbed on his lap, and you held yourself on his shoulders as your mouth found his again, kissing him with no restraint, no inhibition. Min Yoongi was a damn good kisser. It made you ache with want, as you imagined the other things his wicked tongue could do…

The hand on your breast hadn’t really moved since it had found it, so you put one of yours above it, pushing it harder. Searching for more pressure, more friction, anything that would make you forget the loneliness of the day.

Maybe Yoongi was trying to forget something too. You didn’t really care. It wasn’t like your brain could think past this moment or the next. All you were focused on was the now, and the bulge you were currently perched on.

You grinded your hips, probably a little too hard, and Yoongi grunted, pulling you closer, grabbing your hips until he could hold you in place. Yet he didn’t resist as you rocked your hips again, and the hold he had on your hips only turned you on even more.

You moved from his mouth to his neck, trailing wet kisses down until the collar of his shirt, and then up to his ear. He threw his head back to rest it on the couch, exposing the pretty column of his neck. You sucked on his Adam’s apple next, before finding his lips for yet another heated kiss.

As you kissed, tongues entwined, your hands moved down his chest, searching for the hem of his shirt. You pulled away from him just long enough to rid him of the piece of clothing, and you didn’t even look back to see where you had dropped it. You were too busy crashing your mouth on his again, chasing the remnants of the whiskey. He kissed you back with the same intensity, his large hands still holding your hips, though he let you have control of your movements.

The thought he was letting you do whatever you wanted made your blood sing, and you pulled away to kneel between his legs. He was breathing heavily as his eyes opened, meeting your gaze while you were working on his belt. You struggled with it for a bit, and he offered a helping hand as you moved to caress the length of him through his jeans. He instinctively bucked his hips, and you put your face down on his thigh as he finished unbuckling his belt.

You looked up at him innocently, before begrudgingly lifting your head so you could take off his pants. He pushed up from the couch just enough for the jeans to move under his ass, and soon enough all that was left between you and him was the white fabric of his boxer briefs. You barely hesitated before kissing the hardening length, and his hands clenched into fists on each side of him. It made you feel wicked, and you replaced your lips with your teeth, though you didn’t bite down.

Your goal wasn’t to hurt him after all. You just wanted to see how far Min Yoongi would go before begging you to suck his dick. So you teased him, teased the sensitive cock that was growing harder from all your ministrations. But you never gave in, never pulled the underwear down.

Yoongi breathed out an annoyed breath, and you smirked up at him. “Is there something that you want?”

His mouth fell open, and he looked startled that you asked, as if it wasn’t already clear what he wanted.

You landed another kiss on the tip of his dick, licking at the wet spot where his precum had leaked through the fabric. “Don’t you want something?”

He nodded.

“You’ll have to tell me with words,” you purred, and the smirk on your lips turned devilish as you pulled his underwear down, just enough for his cock to rest free on his stomach. You waited for him to say something, tutting as he just remained silent, with that same widened gaze as before. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“Suck my dick,” he said with a small voice.

You cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t there something missing?”

He almost looked scared for a moment. Intimidated for sure. Even if he was the big name between the two of you, you currently had him wrapped around your finger.

“Please?” he tried.

“Good boy.”

You finally gave in to your desires and his, eyes dropping to the dick in front of you. As everything that came with Yoongi, his cock was pretty. Large enough that you knew it’d be a stretch, with a pretty tip that shone red. A bead of precum appeared on the slit, and you immediately leaned in, licking it.

Yoongi hissed, and from the corner of your eyes you could see his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was clenching his fists.

“You can touch me, you know,” you told him, grabbing one of his hands.

You meant to put it in your hair, but instead Yoongi grabbed a hold of your hand, his long fingers keeping you from moving.

Well, this was a start. You didn’t usually hold hands when you were sucking someone’s dick, but if that was what he wanted, then you were happy to oblige.

You got to work, licking a long stripe from the base of his dick up to the head, swirling your tongue around the most sensitive part before letting your lips close around it. You sucked on it, resting your tongue flat against the length of him before you went down, slowly, taking in as much of him as you could. You stopped when he hit the back of your throat, and he grunted once again. His free hand flew to your hair, pulling it to the side so he could look at you.

You moved back up, playing with his frenulum as he was almost out before going down again, quicker this time.

Yoongi never forced you to suck his dick. Only hissed and grunted, as you worked on him, his dick hardening in your mouth with every bob of your head. He tasted good, and you started going faster, just to hear more of the pretty sounds he let out when he hit the back of your throat.

You moaned around him, testing the waters to see if he liked that. Most guys usually did, and Yoongi wasn’t any different. He met your gaze, and he looked spent for a moment, a panting mess under the ministrations of your mouth.

He licked his lips as you hollowed your cheeks, drawing circles on his dick before you pulled out. You sat back on your heels, jerking him off quickly as you met his gaze.

“I want to sit on your face.”

If he was surprised, he gave you no indications of it. Only let go of your hand so he could lie down on the couch. You let out a small laugh, cocking your head to the side.

“You’ll have to undress me first.”

“Right,” he muttered, and he sat up quickly, hands reaching for you.

You couldn’t resist moving closer until you could press your lips on his. He wasn’t expecting it, and it took him a few seconds before he was kissing you back with the same fervor you had applied to his dick. Which was a lot, and you moaned in his mouth as his tongue found yours. You let him have dominance this time, just because his hands were undressing you, unbuttoning your pants and fighting to get them down your legs.

You pulled away from the kiss so you could stand up, and a second later your pants were pooling around your ankles. You weren’t wearing particularly attractive panties, so you took them off yourself, and the piece of clothing met your pants on the ground a second before you were stepping out of the pile.

You took off your shirt yourself as you were climbing on his lap again, and you grinded on his dick once before motioning to the couch. “Lay down.”

He wet his lips, nodding a single time before he started moving. You stood just long enough for him to be able to lay down, and then you were already climbing back on top of him, legs on each side of his face. He grabbed your thighs as you lowered yourself on him, and the first lap of his tongue on you had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You hadn’t been wrong. Yoongi knew how to use that wicked tongue of his. Dipping it deep inside of you to get a taste, before focusing on your clit. Torturing it with a light pressure, until you grinded into his face to seek for more. He got the message then and he flattened his tongue, pressing into you harder, lapping you in time with the grinding of your hips.

Unfortunately for you, you had never really been able to come when you were drunk. No matter how hard you chased the high, it always evaded you. Yoongi was by far the best you had had in a while. Or it was just the fact he was Min Yoongi, and he was pliant to all your wishes. Listening to you when you told him to press circles on your clit, obeying when you suggested sucking instead.

He really was wrapped around your finger, wasn’t he?

“Fuck, you’re so good,” you praised him, the sentence finishing in a moan. It only made him work harder, and your legs were shaking by the time you spoke again. “Do you have condoms?”

He couldn’t reply. Not when you were riding his face like that. So you reluctantly moved down his body, and he gulped in air as you sat back on his dick.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

You let out an unexpected laugh, and a smile appeared on his lips. It disappeared as soon as you crashed your mouth on his, and he grabbed your face to kiss you deeply. His chin was wet from your juice, but you didn’t care. You tasted all of yourself on him, licking him clean until you were satisfied.

When you sat back on him, he had a dazed expression on his features. His hair was a mess all around his head, and you let out another small laugh as you bent, just enough for your hands to reach the strands, taming them gently.

His eyes had gone dark when you straightened again. You wondered if what you had done was wrong, but you didn’t want to know. So you moved your hips, circling on his dick, and he hissed again.

“Do you have condoms?” you repeated the question.

His hands rested on your thighs, caressing them up and down as he said, “In my bedroom”.

You grinded again. “As much as I’d like for you to fuck me raw, we should get a condom.” You got up, albeit reluctantly, and you offered him a hand.

The perspective that he was about to fuck you probably chased whatever darkness had invaded him, because he grabbed your hand as he stood, before bending down to take his whiskey glass too. He chugged it, and you only had time to take a hold of yours before he was pulling you behind him.

You drank small sips of your glass as you followed Yoongi, eyes falling to his ass. It was pretty, and you were once again struck with how everything was pretty when it came to Min Yoongi. For all the rough edges of his professional personality, Yoongi was pretty, with softness behind the mask.

And you could glimpse at the softness, as he pulled you behind him, uncaring that you were both naked halfway up his staircase. His thumb drew circles on the back of your hand, absentmindedly, and you held his hand a little tighter.

It did feel less lonely, all of a sudden.

Min Yoongi’s bedroom was dark. Walls painted in a dark shade of grey, comforter ink black. The only light thing in his room was the canvas over the headboard of his bed. A painting, abstract at that, in shades of white and beige that seemed like a beacon in the darkness of the wall. The furniture in the room was black too, and the tiled ceramic floor completed the décor in its own shade of grey, almost matching the paint on the wall.

The room was tidy, so tidy you weren’t even sure anyone lived here. But then Yoongi let go of your hand, carelessly walking to a night table, and his gaze slid to you as you stopped at the entrance.

You cocked your head to the side, downing the rest of your glass with your eyes still holding on to his gaze. His chest moved quickly, up and down, as if he was out of breath. And maybe he was, and the predatory look you set on him made adrenaline run through his blood. He wet his lips, and his gaze dropped, before sliding to his bedside table.

He fished a condom out of it, and he was about to tear the package open when you talked.

“Let me do it.”

He froze, and then a smirk moved on his lips. It made everything in you sing with burning lust, and you crossed the distance between the two of you. You dropped your glass on the bedside table, before biting in your bottom lip as you turned to face him. He held out the package for you to take, and you took it from his long fingers. You had expected his hand to drop at his side, but he instead moved it between the two of you, cupping your breast through the bralette you were wearing.

You gulped, instinctively stepping closer to press his hand harder against you, just the way you liked it. He understood, and his other hand cupped your other breast. He massaged them, hard, pinching your nipples through the fabric of the bralette. The friction of the fabric on the sensitive buds had stars forming on the periphery of your vision, and you let out a moan as you tore the package of the condom open, fishing the actual condom out with eager fingers.

You didn’t have time to reach down to his dick before Yoongi moved on his knees. He sucked on the skin of your thigh, hard, leaving a purple bruise behind that he soothed with a kiss.

“Let me just eat you out more, mmh?”

You didn’t have the ability to say no, so you sat on his bed and pulled his head closer to your heat, other hand clutching the condom so it wouldn’t fall on the comforter.

Yoongi’s tongue truly was skilled. And it moved fast on your clit. You could see the mirage of an orgasm on the horizon, but the alcohol in your blood kept it away, frustratingly so. Even when Yoongi slid two fingers inside of you, curling them to hit a sweet spot inside of you. It felt divine, and you moaned for him, telling him just how good he was. It made him work harder, and he eventually whined, resting his head on your thigh to look at you.

“I want to feel you on my dick,” he said, and he sounded almost shy. As if voicing his desires was forbidden.

You bit your lip again, letting out a ragged breath as your heart beat wildly in your chest, almost drowning out his words. “Then get on the bed.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly laid down next to you, stroking his dick as you kneeled next to him. You swatted the hand away, and he smirked again as you started rolling the condom down his length. You jerked him off a couple of times when you were done, before climbing on his lap.

He watched you carefully. As if he was only then realizing what was happening. He still let you position him at your entrance, and you sunk down, just enough for his tip to start parting your folds.

“Can I?” you asked, stopping there.

He wet his lips. “Please.”

It was your turn to smirk wickedly, as you sunk down on him until most of him was inside of you. It stretched, but he had prepared you so well he slid right in, and you moaned as he bottomed out.

“You’re big,” you praised him. “What a good fucking boy.”

His hands flew to your hips, fingers digging in the supple skin. “You say that as if you’re not fucking wet for me.”

Oh. Min Yoongi did have a dominant bone in him.

“Aish,” you moaned. “You’re going to fuck me, mmh?”

He sat up a little, wrapping an arm around your waist before pulling you down with him. “If you ask so nicely.”

You were surprised by the small laugh that fell from your mouth, but it quickly died as Yoongi started jackhammering his hips against yours, his dick fucking into your walls so deliciously, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He held you tight against him as he fucked you, and your dominant side returned as he let out a moan in your ear.

Your hand snaked between your bodies, until it was wrapped around his throat, finding the two sides of it. You cut the blood supply to his brain, fingers digging in the arteries, and he let out a louder moan this time, something that somehow resembled your name. Still he didn’t slow down, and you sucked on the side of his jaw, mouth needing to do something to muffle the pleasured sounds that kept tumbling from it.

You released your grip on Yoongi’s throat after a time, and you moved until you could catch his lips for a quick yet languid kiss. You swallowed the grunts he let out before sitting up on him. He only then slowed the roll of his hips, and his eyes fluttered open to meet yours.

“Let me fuck myself on you a little,” you said, head cocked to the side. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Please.”

You didn’t need more to start moving, slowly, in a dance that had to be frustrating to him after the relentless pace he had set. Yet it felt heavenly, stretching all of you wide open, the drag of his dick along your velvet walls making you reach for something to hold on to. It turned out to be your breasts, and your hands slipped under the bralette as you palmed yourself.

“So fucking good,” you breathed, and Yoongi’s large hands settled on your hips again, guiding you on him.

Making you roll your hips more, impaling you on him until he was fully in.

“I think I could fuck you all night,” he declared, and he seemed astonished. As if he hadn’t expected the ordeal to feel this good. And it did feel good, far more than you had ever thought it could.

“Hope you have good stamina then,” you said, half teasing, but the lustful look adorning his gaze told you that he just might fuck you all night.

“For you?” He wet his lips, moaning as you circled your hips in just the right way. “Fuck, I could come like this.”

Surprisingly enough, he didn’t let you continue. He stilled your hips, before sitting up again. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and the following moment disappeared in your mind, dizziness taking the forefront of the scene as Yoongi spun you until you were lying down, with him on top of you.

It took him a few seconds to realize he might have moved you too quickly, but he soon said, “Are you okay?”

You huffed out a breath, eyes fluttering closed. “That was dizzying.”

He chuckled, and he pushed back inside of you. You hadn’t felt him fall out, but you sure as hell felt him as he slowly slid in, all the way.

“I wanted to see what you look like under me.”

You opened your eyes, and you were relieved to see the world was not turning as much anymore. “Like the sight?” you teased, and your hand shot between you to press circles on your clit, lazily.

“Fuck,” he grunted, and then he was thrusting into you again, fast and hard.

You cried out a delighted moan and you timed your ministrations on your clit with his movements, until everything seemed to blend in together.

Yoongi fucked you for a while. He did have good stamina, and the more you praised him the more he kept going, with sweat dripping from his forehead, wetting locks of his hair. He looked sinfully good, the sounds he made a melody you had never imagined you’d hear, one that mixed with your own moans until it was a song, of passion and desire and everything in between.

You couldn’t quite tell how long it lasted. Only that Yoongi’s movement grew sloppier, his breathing ragged as he bent down to hide his face in your neck. He sucked a spot on your skin, and your hand found the nape of his neck to hold him in place.

“I think we’re too drunk,” you murmured as Yoongi slid in and out, slowly, but never fully stopping.

“You feel so good.”

You chuckled, and your fingers drew circles on his scalp for a few seconds before you replied, “We won’t come”.

Yoongi persisted for a time, dragging his length inside of you until you started digging your nails in the skin of his back. “Right.” He thrusted in twice more, before stopping all the way in, his dick fully impaling you. “You just feel so good.”

You stayed like that for a time, unmoving, your breaths in sync as your hearts slowly returned to a normal rhythm. Yoongi’s dick had gone soft by the time he pulled out, yet he remained on top of you, breathing in your scent.

“I should go,” you said after what felt like an eternity. Your eyelids were drooping, and you held him close to you as you spoke the words.

“Stay for the night,” Yoongi murmured, his lips moving against your neck. His voice was deep, scratchy, and it made you want to be closer to him, until you were blended with his soul.

He was comfort. For a reason unknown, Min Yoongi was comfort personified, and you really didn’t want to go. Even if you were slowly coming down from the buzz of alcohol. You sighed, before pushing him to the side.

“You’re crushing me,” you admitted, and he let out a small chuckle, before rolling to the side.

He settled next to you, an arm draped around your stomach, face nuzzled into your neck. His proximity felt strange. For someone that usually seemed closed off, Min Yoongi appeared to have let you in… tonight.

Was it the song, or the fact that you had been alone on your birthday? Had he found pity in you, and tried to gift you with his own form of comfort? It made you feel pathetic, but his steady breathing as he fell asleep calmed you down, melted your worries away, until sleep found you in its hold too.

Yoongi didn’t let go of you while he slept.

*****

Dawn was grey. Colourless, as if the sun was the source of all colours in this world. As if its absence kept the colours at bay, changed them into shades of black and grey that melted together in a strange picture. It was unfamiliar, foreign, as if you weren’t supposed to be awake at this hour.

It took you a moment to realize the greyness wasn’t from dawn, but from the colour on the walls. A moment longer for the pounding in your head to awaken, reminding you of the alcohol you had ingested the night before.

You weren’t at home. In fact, you were lying on a mattress far more comfortable than anything you could ever own, in a luxurious yet sparsely decorated room that was far from your own.

The comforter had slipped from your body as you slept, and you shivered from the chill air. A breeze was playing in the curtains by the window, and it smelled of rain, though the panes of the window were still dry. You turned your head to the side, afraid of the sight that would come.

Min Yoongi looked like a prince, lying next to you. His hair formed a crown around his head where it rested on the pillow, and his soft features looked regal in the morning light. His mouth was slightly opened, and little snores came out of him each time he exhaled.

His hand had fallen from your stomach at some point in the night. It rested next to you now, fingers reaching towards you but not really touching. As if he had never meant to let go in the first place. Still, you were glad he had.

Because with the morning, reality rushed back in.

It ceased you, grabbed your heart and squeezed it in your chest as you watched him sleep for a moment longer. Just because he was peaceful, and you wished to revel in the peace. Refused to let reality crush this moment, not before you had it committed to memory, locking it up in a safe corner of your heart.

But when it was locked up, you took the key and threw it away, never to be found again.

You blinked the grogginess away, eyes searching around you for your clothes. It took you a few seconds to remember you had discarded all of the fabric downstairs last night, except your bralette, and you winced at the thought that you would have to go down there naked to get dressed again.

You sat up, shivering once again in the chill air, goosebumps raising on your flesh until your skin looked pricked by it. You glanced at Yoongi before getting up. The song came back to your mind – the gut-wrenching lyrics screaming of loneliness, of never finding solace in people’s company, of seeking for a family that never comes.

Loneliness felt worse in the grey light of dawn. And right on cue, rain started splattering on the window, drowning out the sounds of Yoongi sleeping, and the rustle of the sheets as you slipped out of the bed.

The ceramic floor was warm under your feet, and you tiptoed your way to the door. Not daring to look back, barely even daring to breathe. You didn’t want Yoongi to wake up, not when you were about to leave without saying goodbye.

For some reason, you thought he might understand. You thought Yoongi could understand that loneliness sometimes needed to be dealt with alone. No matter how salvaging last night had been for the lone heart in your chest, the morning called for something else. For reality to settle back in. What had happened last night was unprofessional, inherently so, and it filled you with dread.

Maybe that was the reason you were fleeing after all.

You reached the door, hand settling on the knob. You couldn’t resist looking back then, as if you just needed to make sure that this moment had been real. Yoongi’s hands had moved a little while you were walking away, fingers reaching for your warmth. A frown moved on his features as he didn’t find it, but they relaxed as he exhaled loudly.

He was still sound asleep, and infinitely peaceful. You hoped nothing would ever break his peace.

You slipped out of the bedroom, shutting the door soundlessly behind you before walking down to the living room, where you put on your clothes. You had half a thought of leaving a note behind, to explain why you hadn’t stayed, but you didn’t know where Yoongi might have paper in his condo, and you didn’t want to linger around long enough for him to wake up.

You were putting on your shoes when he appeared at the top of the stairs, draped in a white robe to keep the cold at bay. His features were back in the same icy mask he had sported at the beginning of the night yesterday, and you gulped as he stared you down.

“You’re leaving early,” he stated as he leaned against the wall, folding his arms on his chest.

His hair was a mess from last night – long gone was the crown you had woken up to see. He looked unkempt, and there was a line from his pillow on his face. It made him look human, terribly so, and you felt bad for wanting to leave.

“I don’t think I belong here,” you admitted.

With a small voice, as small as the fear inside of you. Because yes, you were lonely. But being here in this too big condo with someone that was just supposed to be a work collaborator… it made you feel out of place.

A line appeared between Yoongi’s brows, and he pushed up from the wall to start walking down the stairs. “I invited you to sleep over, you have all the rights to be here.”

You wet your lips, chasing the frustration of not being understood away. “I mean, we shouldn’t have done that, should we?” You watched as Yoongi finished walking down the stairs, sitting on the very last step. “It was fun, I won’t deny it, but it was unprofessional.”

He leaned against the wall again, looking at you with a gaze that made you feel naked, as if he was seeing right through your soul. You turned your head away, wanting to flee but not having the courage to do so when his eyes were on you. As if, if you stayed unmoving, maybe the whole situation would disappear. Maybe he wouldn’t see you anymore, the way that he was seeing you now.

“It was,” he agreed, to your surprise. “I’m not big on regrets though, I’ve had enough of them for a lifetime.”

“I-” you caught yourself before you added more.

I what? I don’t regret it? I’m not big on regrets either? Why then did this morning taste awfully like regret?

Yoongi just held your gaze, not prodding but visibly expecting you to continue. Maybe you owed him as much.

“I’m just afraid it will ruin our professional relationship,” you admitted.

His gaze dropped to the floor. “I thought so. I can always push back releasing the song if you prefer.”

Your eyes widened, right as your heart stopped in your chest. Did he know how much you needed the money? Did he know that you were on the verge of giving up on your dreams because you couldn’t afford your apartment?

“I don’t know,” you said, and it was true. You didn’t know if you wanted to risk not releasing the song, but you didn’t know if you wanted to keep working with Yoongi in the immediate future either.

You needed to get rid of the loneliness alone after all.

“Then think about it,” Yoongi suggested. “I can always pay for all the work that you did, and if you feel like releasing it some day you just let me know.”

You pursed your lips. It was a good idea. A decent suggestion, yet it felt wrong. Because releasing the song was certain to open up the world to you. Or so you had been hoping. Could you give up on that dream?

“I will,” you said. “I’ll think about it, and I’ll let you know.”

Yoongi nodded, before stretching his legs in front of him. “Can we talk before you leave though?”

You didn’t know what he wanted to talk about. Only knew that the longer you were to stay here, the more the loneliness was going to drown you.

“What is there to talk about?”

His features turned grave. You were struck that he looked as if he was going to announce the end of the world, as if the Earth was about to stop turning and you’d all crash into a wall at eighty miles per hour.

“I have to admit something,” he said. His eyes found the floor again, though he had been avoiding your gaze for a moment now. “I have someone in my life.”

A lump formed in your throat. A disgusting, guilty lump that tasted like bile. “You cheated on someone with me?”

He slowly shook his head no. “We’re on a break. I just thought you deserved to know.”

The loneliness was real. It was a feeling you knew all too well, in all of its labyrinths and corners. It wove its way in every crevice of your soul, and God knew your soul was filled with crevices. With cracks, from all the times you had needed to glue yourself back together.

“Oh.”

It was all you could voice as the enormity of his revelation dawned on you. Was that why he had looked upset yesterday? Had he tried to forget his own loneliness by drowning in you?

Had it worked?

“I’m sorry.”

Min Yoongi did look apologetic, but you found him a coward. A coward for avoiding your gaze like he was right now, for looking devastated sitting there on the stairs. And maybe he truly was devastated, if he was on a break with the person that he loved.

Why had you come when you were at your most vulnerable?

“Thank you for your honesty,” you said, voice blanched with the horror in you. Because you were horrified, to think you had slept with a man that belonged to another. Though the pounding in your head reminded you that it was alcohol that had caused the ordeal, that it wasn’t you, and you clung to that thought.

Because if your inhibitions hadn’t been lowered, you would have never slept with Min Yoongi.

He remained silent for a little eternity, and then somewhere in himself he found the courage to look at you again. You almost wished he hadn’t.

“Do you want me to send you the song today, still?”

It was a fair question. One that could bring you back in the charted territory of your professional relationship. It felt safer, and you let out a shaky breath to calm the pit in your chest.

The pit had always been there, you reckoned. It just was harder to ignore on this dreadful dawn.

“Sure,” you answered, though you had no intention to listen to it.

No, it was probably better to put this all in the past. To forget the comfort Yoongi had brought to you last night. You almost wished you had been able to run before he’d woken up, but you weren’t a coward. This conversation would have been needed at some point.

“Is there something you want to say?” Yoongi enquired, gently. With a voice that sounded far older than he was, far wiser than he had to be.

“I don’t know.” You parted your lips as you wanted to continue speaking, but nothing came out. So you shut your mouth, rocking back and forth on your heels as anxiety spiked through you, replacing the initial horror. “I am sorry it happened.”

He shrugged. “Don’t be. As I told you, I don’t do regrets anymore.”

You would have liked to be able to tell if he was lying, but Min Yoongi was an unreadable book when he wanted to be.

“I hope you fix your relationship,” you said. You really did, if only to forget last night had ever happened. He remained silent, lips stretched in a tight smile. “I…” you trailed off, and it was your turn to lower your gaze to the floor. “I appreciated last night, though.”

He wet his lips. “I won’t lie to you. I appreciated it too.”

“But life is life, isn’t it?” It was a rhetorical question, one he didn’t reply to. “I guess I’ll go.”

He sighed, loud enough for you to hear. It wasn’t an annoyed sigh. No, it sounded as if he was holding the weight of the world on his shoulders.

So much for not regretting, uh?

“I’ll send you the song,” he reiterated. “Please take care of yourself.”

It made a drop of anger fall in the ocean of loneliness you were drowning in. Because you had shown him the darkness in you last night, and he had hidden the truth from you. And maybe he didn’t even owe it to you, you just wished he had said something last night, before it was too late.

Before your body knew that it was molded to fit his perfectly.

“Will do,” you replied curtly.

You turned away from him then, hoping he couldn’t see the hurt in your eyes. You didn’t even know if you were allowed to be hurt. Didn’t even know if you were actually hurt, or if you just needed to be alone.

In all the misery that it brought you, loneliness was your comfort zone.

*****

The days had stretched into eternity, busking keeping your mind from rushing back to the events you had partaken in with Min Yoongi. Minhyuk had been appalled, when you had told him that the song would likely never be released. You had told him enough about what had happened with Yoongi, without ever really confirming that you had slept together, yet Minhyuk hadn’t let it go.

He only had when you had received the money Min Yoongi had promised to pay, earlier this afternoon. It was an astronomical sum for someone who got by with busking. As your contract with Minhyuk asked for, you had shared half the sum with him, and still it left you with far more money than you had ever owned.

Min Yoongi hadn’t offered an explanation as to why he had paid you so much money. And you hadn’t asked for one yet, choosing to go to Hongdae to change your mind instead. To remind you that busking was who you were, even if you hadn’t rented an area for tonight.

No, tonight you would just walk around and watch people live their lives. Happy, smiling, unaware of the abyss you felt like you were drowning in.

Seeing Min Yoongi on your birthday had been a mistake. The anger had turned into something else, something far more intimidating. Disgust with yourself, with your acts and your choices. Regret that you hadn’t stopped when you should have, and that he hadn’t said anything before it was too late.

You wondered if he was back with the person that owned his heart. If you leaving like that had pushed him back in their arms, if their relationship had found grounds to work again.

You were jealous. But also hurt… because Yoongi had been comfort. You wished you had told him, wish he had known what it had meant for you to be with him on your birthday like that. When you laid awake at night, sleep evading you, you wondered if it would have made a difference.

Would Min Yoongi have let you go on that dreadful dawn if you had told him?

You couldn’t know. But then again, sometimes, during those same sleepless nights, you wondered if it was too late. If there was a chance you could tell him. If he had chosen not to get back with his partner.

If he too sometimes laid awake at night thinking about your body against his.

Loneliness was making you go crazy inside.

You sighed, taking a deep breath of the fresh evening air. Hongdae was lively. Filled with laughter and chatter. And with your own dark cloud, that seemed to loom over you wherever you went now.

You were at a low point in life. You were aware of it. It was hard to see the good in things when you had turned your back on the little sense of company you had been able to find in Yoongi. Though he hadn’t really been company, no? Just a brief connection in a sea of temporary people.

Only Minhyuk stayed around, and he only did because he worked for you.

But the money… The money was more than you had ever thought you’d have. It made you wonder, was that what celebrities made when they worked together? Why such astronomical sums for people that didn’t even need money in the first place?

Or maybe Yoongi had known that you were struggling with money. Maybe that was his way of apologizing. You weren’t prideful enough to hate him for it. As a matter of fact, you had been debating calling him to thank him, or even going to his place. Maybe that was why you were in Hongdae after all.

Long walks to clear your mind usually always worked, didn’t they?

A couple in front of you burst out laughing, and the guy grabbed his girlfriend’s hand, pulling her in a hug. Public displays of affection were rare in Korea, but Hongdae held a different crowd. A looser one, that didn’t live up to the expectations of elders. It was a crowd you found you rather enjoyed, especially as you busked and they enjoyed your music.

You brought happiness to their lives, didn’t you? Why then was happiness evading you?

You scoffed, and the guy threw you a glance. Your eyes dipped to the floor, and you almost winced in embarrassment. You thought about telling him that you weren’t scoffing because of him, but it would have been useless, wouldn’t it?

His attention was already back on his girlfriend, as if he was but the mere moon and she the Earth. It was cute. It really was, in a heart-wrenching kind of way.

So much for dealing with loneliness alone, right?

You wanted to talk to Yoongi. Wanted to thank him, wanted to let him know he had been the first to make you feel something in a long time. Hell, you hadn’t had sex in over a year before him.

Could you just go and talk to him? Could you tell him that you had been too shaken that morning, and that you hadn’t been able to tell him the thoughts in your skull? Your imprisoned mind, clustered in a dark corner of your head, had been subdued to your loneliness.

Surely he would understand.

A group of friends walked past you, and their joy felt contagious. You wanted to cling to the feeling of your lips stretching into a smile, wanted to use the warmth they carried themselves with to forget the cold in you.

Being a lyricist made you far too dramatic for your own good, didn’t it? Because you could see around yourself, people that were alone too. Walking with their hands in their pockets, with light in their eyes as they watched the scene around you. It didn’t have to be a sad scene. You didn’t have to cling to the sadness.

It didn’t matter that it was your comfort zone. If you ever wanted to get better, you had to stop using it as a shield. Had to shrug the coat off, and step into the summer warmth, leaving the winter cold behind.

Only, it was still cold at this time of the year.

You thought about Minhyuk. Minhyuk, who had always believed in you. Who trusted that you would make it someday, that he just had to encourage you in the process. Minhyuk, who had fallen in love with one of his friends, and had a beautiful love story to call his now.

There was happiness in this world. And you weren’t selfish enough to believe you didn’t deserve happiness. It was just hard to find it when your family had forgotten about you, when you woke up to learn he belonged to another.

You didn’t have feelings for Min Yoongi. At least you tried to convince yourself of it. You didn’t really know what you felt. Only that what had happened on your birthday had to be caused by more than just the alcohol. Because it hadn’t been your first time being vulnerable and drunk in a man’s company. It had been your first time jumping on that man though.

You had enjoyed working with him. Had found his work ethic inspiring, and had felt as if your soul was singing whenever you worked on music together. There was something in Min Yoongi that resonated in you, as if his existence triggered a harmonious frequency inside of you. A terribly unprofessional harmonious frequency, yet you hadn’t found friction to slow it down. Only had your treacherous thoughts and sleepless nights.

Maybe talking to him would release you. Would free the mind that was clustered in your skull, would let it fly into the sky again, to soar above clouds and mountains and valleys.

You probably needed it. Needed to say thank you for the money, and tell him you would find the strength to listen to the song someday. Just not when you were already so vulnerable.

And a hidden, dark corner of your heart also wanted to tell him how you had felt that night. Wanted to tell him he was comfort personified, and that you were thankful you had had the chance to experience it, even if it had been but a mere, fleeting moment in your life.

A romantic through and through, weren’t you?

Or maybe it was just Hongdae’s air, and the ambiance it held. Of happiness, that you could find if only you reached out far enough.

And life was about risk, wasn’t it? If you never talked to Min Yoongi, never told him the thoughts in your imprisoned mind, then you would be stuck with them for the rest of your life. Stuck with their decaying form, until they turned your memory into a prison in and of itself too.

You didn’t want the memory of Min Yoongi to turn into decay. Wanted to remember the good parts of it and let go of the bad. He was the one saying he didn’t do regrets anymore, wasn’t he?

Maybe you didn’t have to regret this either. But for that, you needed to tell him the feelings in your mind.

You sighed, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. Long walks really did wonders to you, didn’t they?

You should have left your apartment before.

Instead of beating yourself up for it, you took a few steadying breaths, before heading straight to the nearest subway station. It wasn’t particularly late, and by chance you’d get to his place before the hour would be indecent.

It wasn’t like night hours were indecent to Min Yoongi. He was a night owl, much like you were too. Him letting you in his condo the last time at such a late hour was proof enough of it.

It was in that mindset that you made your way to his condo, with no gifts this time. Considering where the last time had led you, you didn’t want to risk offering him anything. You just wanted to talk. To tell him thank you for that night. For making you realize that you weren’t quite alone in this big wide universe.

This time, Min Yoongi wasn’t outside when you arrived. It occurred to you that there was a possibility he wasn’t even home, but then again he had always come off to you as the kind of person that usually stayed in most of the time. So you walked into the building, nodding your head curtly at the security.

It was the same person you had seen the two other times you were here, and you had become familiar enough to them so that they’d let you pass without asking a question. You were glad for it – you didn’t know what you would have told them anyway. You had no business being here, belonged to an entire other world.

Still, you found yourself on Min Yoongi’s door mat. Fist hovering in front of the door, not daring to knock or ring the bell. You stayed there for a good five minutes, trying to assemble enough courage to make a move, but all you could do was stare.

It seemed staring was enough, because five minutes later, after you rang the bell, the door turned on its hinges, and Min Yoongi appeared.

His gaze widened, quite at the same time as yours did. Blood flushed your cheeks, and you let your hand fall at your side.

“Seonbaenim,” you greeted him, an echo of your greeting the last time you had seen him. Your lips stretched into an easy smile, and you wondered if your heart picking up its rate in your chest was a normal physiological response to the presence of Min Yoongi.

Maybe it was.

Yoongi didn’t move. In fact, he looked as if he was holding his breath, and as if all colour had leached from his features.

You understood why when a small figure appeared behind him, and all colour leached from your features next.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and her eyes slid to you. “Who’s that?”

Your brain went empty. Entirely empty. There was the sound of ringing, but everything else was distant, as your vision blurred on the edges, until all there was was a tunnel leading right to Min Yoongi’s pretty features.

The moment stretched into infinity, and your heart rocked against your ribcage three times before Yoongi spoke. You didn’t hear his voice, only saw the lips you had been kissing just a couple of weeks ago moving. And then the pretty girl disappeared from view, features casted into a frown, and all that was left was Min Yoongi and you. Him, inside of his home; you, in the hallway.

It felt like two entire different worlds.

“I didn’t know you were going to come,” he said.

Sensations rushed back to you, and your gaze dropped to the floor.

“I…” you trailed off.

“Is it about the song?”

All you could do was nod, as you blanched standing there. And you did blanch, as if all your blood had exited your body. It was dizzying, and oxygen felt foreign in your lungs.

He led you inside. Right to the studio. You could hear the girl talking as you made your way there, likely to the dog from the sounds of it. And then Yoongi shut the door of his studio, and the sounds faded to nothing.

“I’m sorry.”

It was all he said, as you just stood there not knowing where to look. Not knowing what to do. Not knowing if it was right for you to be in here.

“Oh,” you let out. You wet your lips – had they been so dry this whole time? “I came to say thank you for the money.”

He watched you carefully for a few beats of silence, before replying, “You deserved it”.

You chuckled. Bitterly, achingly, or somewhere in between. “I’m not sure I’m worth all of that.”

“I paid you the amount of money your work is worth,” he declared simply. He moved in the room, sitting in the chair in front of the desk. “It was the right thing to do.”

You slowly nodded, before glancing over your shoulder. “Is that…”

You didn’t have to finish your sentence for him to understand. He looked apologetic, once your gaze settled on him again.

“It is,” he confirmed.

It had no business hurting as bad as it did, and yet you felt as if your heart was ripped in two. “Oh.”

His hands were folded in his lap, his shoulders hung low. He looked horrified, somehow, as if only then realizing that all that had happened was wrong. Wrong, and the kind of thing one should regret.

“Have you listened to the song?”

You held his gaze for as long as your heart could manage, before letting it drop to the comfort of the rug on the floor. “No. We probably shouldn’t release it.”

You felt out of breath. The breakthrough you had had while in Hongdae was foreign now, as if it had happened to someone else. Loneliness caught up to you, and all you could do was watch the fall as it happened.

“I’ll put it on hold.” He sounded disappointed, and he wasn’t looking at you anymore when your eyes flitted to him.

How had he been comfort? He was all but comfort now, the source of the ever-growing loneliness that was seeping through every inch of you.

“Thank you.”

Another silence. You were drowning. Drowning in the heaviness in you. It was like quick sands – nothing could stop the sinking, the fall. Falling and falling. You had thought you would fall into him, hadn’t wanted to let yourself formulate the thought, but the hope had been there. The hope had been there, and now you were falling away from him.

“Listen,” Yoongi started. He paused, ran a hand through his hair, folded his arms on his chest, let his fingers fall back into his lap. “I am sorry.” He wet his lips, and you found the strength to look at him. He wasn’t looking at you, and it didn’t seem as if he’d ever have the courage to do it. “I don’t want us to be left on bad terms.”

“We are nothing to each other, aren’t we?” you commented, voice sounding strangely high even to your own ears. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“I honestly didn’t think you were going to come back.”

“I never should have been here in the first place.”

His eyes kept at their journey on the rug, as if he could see lines down there, or maybe one of those drawing you traced with numbers. It was hard to know what he could imagine, hard to know the thoughts in his head.

Could he tell you were falling?

“I know,” he said. His voice was tired, exhausted, remorseful. For someone that didn’t want to regret anything, you could tell he was regretting this, far more than you had expected he would. “She came back two days ago.”

So, if you had been there a week ago, the end would have been different? Now, where would you be when the end came? Alone, as always.

“I’m happy for you.” You surprised even yourself at how genuine you sounded. Maybe because it truly was genuine. Min Yoongi deserved to have someone that loved him around. Someone he loved too. After all he had been through, he deserved it.

He said your name. Intimately, not with any formalities he usually reserved for it. It hurt, far more than everything before. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“It’s going to be okay,” you reassured him, even if it sounded false. “It was one night, I’m just a little… shocked.”

You tried to play it cool with a smile, but his eyes were still stubbornly following the lines of his invisible drawing, so he didn’t see it.

“I understand.”

You weren’t sure if he really understood. You didn’t even know what there was to understand. You had slept with Min Yoongi once when you had both been vulnerable, and he had fixed his relationship after. It was just life. You weren’t one to catch feelings easily. He had just been comfort, and it always hurt when comfort was ripped from you, didn’t it?

It was going to pass. Even now, a few minutes later, it was lesser. The initial ache in your heart turning dull, and oxygen returning to your lungs and blood. It didn’t quite feel like drowning anymore, and you could watch him without feeling like your heart was going to stop.

No, you just wanted to go home and forget this ever happened. Blame it all on a fever dream, and move on with your life.

“It was nice to work with you,” you said. Your voice had returned to its normal tone, and you took in a steadying breath. “I’m going to treasure the memory.”

At that he looked at you. “So will I.”

You exchanged a long look. Filled with words unsaid, with possibilities that could have happened had you never left that morning, or had you come back before. Had he been waiting for you? Had he considered not getting back together with her if you were to come first? It was hard to tell, and yet it didn’t make you feel anything. No, the initial shock and hurt really had dwindled away, because you were even able to smile at him, a tight-lipped smile but one nonetheless.

Or maybe your coping mechanism had just come in clutch, pushing all emotions to the deep, dark depths of your heart.

“Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

He slowly nodded. “You deserved it. You really did.” He seemed to consider it for a time, before he added, “You are an amazing artist. I’ll be on the lookout for what you release next”.

You chuckled. “We’ll see what I come up with.” You looked around, committing the setting to memory. Committing Min Yoongi to memory, him and his long hair and sad eyes.

“If you ever want to release the song, just let me know,” he said.

You weren’t sure that would ever happen, but if it could ease the remorse in his sad gaze then you would give it to him. “I will, I promise.”

He nodded once more, wetting his lips. “And if you ever need anything, I’m just a call away.”

A call and a world away. Min Yoongi wouldn’t be your comfort. Had probably never been comfort to you, you had just been blinded by the loneliness of your birthday.

“Right back at you,” you said, because it was the civilized thing to say. “I doubt I have anything that you might need though.” It was said like a joke, but it landed in deaf ears, because Yoongi just looked sadder.

“You would be surprised.”

Four words that you hated. That you found yourself to hate for a long time, after you left Min Yoongi’s place that night. Never looking back, not even as you walked outside, each step feeling like another crevice forming, until you were back to that same pathetic lonely self you had been before him.

You were going to need to pick your pieces up yourself, were you?

*****

Present day

Doing interviews still felt foreign. Strange, as if they were meant for someone else than you. Someone that existed a year ago, someone that was just a regular busker.

Not someone that had just sold out an entire concert venue. It still felt unreal, and you always thought you were going to wake up from the dream some day. Thing was, you only woke up to more comments, to more views on your videos.

All thanks to a certain BTS member you had been trying to forget. Three months ago, Min Yoongi had mentioned you in an interview. It had been uncalled for, out of nowhere really. He had been asked what inspired him with his music and he had said fellow artists. When the interviewer had pushed for names, it was yours that Yoongi had given, and Army had immediately jumped on the boat.

Until you were the talk of Korea as the new soloist that everyone needed to know. It was crazy, how your life had changed in just a few months. Now, people recognized you when you walked in the street, fans asked for your pictures. You didn’t know if you liked it, but it was a dream come true.

Your parents had called you, once. You hadn’t picked up, and they hadn’t tried again. You lived in blissful peace now, without the money problems you had had last year, without the fear that one day you would just lose it all. In truth, the fear still existed, but it was more distant. You were a rising star, and for now you didn’t think you had reached the top yet. No, you were still shooting up, and you were willing to work your ass off to make sure you wouldn’t fall back down.

You deserved the success you were having. Had worked blood and sweat to get that success.

You hadn’t talked to Yoongi after. People had suggested collaborations, Armys had posted edits of you (of you?!) next to Min Yoongi all over the Internet. Videos of you busking had gotten millions of views, and Minhyuk was doing his best job to make sure to shut down any hate before it reached you.

You still saw some comments sometimes, but you didn’t really care. You couldn’t be liked by everyone, and that was just life. You had long accepted such a thing.

But yes, doing interviews felt strange. Especially as people tried to desiccate your past, to find every little truth there was to know about you. You were good at keeping most of the truth to yourself, just giving them little snippets of your life here and there to make the fans feel like they knew you.

You were pretty sure none of them knew your loneliness though. Loneliness that was a lot more bearable now that you weren’t struggling with money anymore, come to think of it.

The questions you hated the most were those about Yoongi. And you got a lot of them, especially from male interviewers. They tended to ask questions that were a lot more sexist than their female counterparts, who usually focused on your work instead of on your life. But the male interviewers came with the rest, and even if you had asked Minhyuk to try and filter most of them out, you still had to answer some questions once in a while.

That was how you found yourself on a talk show you had only watched behind the screen of your computer before, sitting across a famous host that had been asking increasingly more personal questions as the hour that you were to spend with him slowly passed.

It was awkward, yet you tried to be your most friendly self, to smile when you were supposed to and to laugh politely whenever he made a joke you personally thought to be degrading. You were relieved when he finally concluded the interview, and you dipped behind the scene as soon as you were allowed, heading straight to the refreshment table.

You were gulping down a water bottle when a familiar figure moved out of the hallway leading to the dressing rooms. Minhyuk sported a toothy grin, and he stopped next to you as you finished the water.

“You were fantastic,” he complimented you. “How can you be so good at this?”

He had asked that same question numerous times already, and you still didn’t have the answer for it. You had always been a huge introvert, yet whenever cameras shone their light on you, you found courage in you to act and pretend to be at your most comfortable.

Only the people that knew you the best could see through the mask, and though Minhyuk knew, he still was amazed that you could just do it like that.

You shrugged, winking at him as you put the water bottle away in a recycling bin. “I don’t know.” You sighed, glancing over your shoulder at the host of the show. He was walking towards you, and you immediately hated the look on his face as he beelined towards you.

He stopped a little too close for comfort, with a placid smile on his lips that felt wrong.

“You’re good at avoiding juicy questions, aren’t you?” It was said like a joke and his eyes even sparkled as he let out a small laugh.

Immediately, you let the camera-adequate you take the lead, and you echoed his laugh. “I want my personal life to stay personal,” you said, shrugging your shoulders.

The host nodded, glancing at Minhyuk as your manager moved next to you. “But seriously, how did Min Yoongi come to know you? I still can’t wrap my head around it.”

You pursed your lips, the perfect picture of indifference, even though Yoongi’s mention still felt a little strange. “Honestly, I don’t know. I am very flattered that he likes my music enough to say he’s inspired by it.”

The host looked at you suspiciously, as if he was trying to read between the lines, between the words you had said to find the truth about you and Min Yoongi.

You didn’t think anyone but you and Yoongi really knew the truth. Even Minhyuk didn’t know everything, and he was your manager.

“When’s the collab going to drop?” the host continued. “Surely you must be working on something.”

You shrugged. “I can’t say we are planning to release something together, unfortunately. We’ve never worked on anything together.” An easily crafted lie, that you had said so many times in the last three months that you almost believed it now.

You had yet to listen to the song you had made together. Had buried the file away in your computer, somewhere you had tried to forget as best as you could. It hadn’t really worked, especially not now that Yoongi was mentioned to you almost daily.

“That’s a shame, I’m pretty sure lots of people would love to see such a collab,” the host said pensively. He then offered you a smile he probably thought was kind, but mostly looked paternalistic. “You should try to get him to collab with you, it’d give you a lot of visibility.”

You wanted to tell him you didn’t need visibility, but it was a lie. Well, maybe not anymore, because Yoongi had already given it to you.

You wondered what had brought him to mention you. What journey his mind might have taken to lead to you, when he knew damn well what had happened with you was unprofessional. Maybe it was his way of apologizing, of giving you the little something that he could even though you hadn’t contacted him about the song. Maybe he even believed it would make you change your mind about the song, but that was unlikely.

Not when it could make people say that you were only using Yoongi for clout. No, you wanted your success to be all yours now that he had opened the door for you. It wasn’t like you had asked him to, so it wasn’t using him, right?

Minhyuk’s phone started ringing, taking you out of your reverie, and he stepped away to answer the call. He got lots of calls now, and every day it seemed like there was more. More that people wanted to know, wanted to see or wanted to hear.

It was unlikely that it’d stop someday. But it was okay. Being in constant motion kept you from feeling your usual loneliness. Made it lesser, smaller, until it was so easily ignored you almost thought it was absent.

The host dug his phone out of his pocket, and you watched as his eyes skimmed the screen, before looking at you with a delighted smile. You furrowed your brows, but you didn’t have time to say anything before Minhyuk let out a cheer as he jogged back to you.

“You are never going to believe this!”

You looked at him with a slightly widened gaze, glancing at the host once. “What?”

“You’ve been nominated as rookie of the year for MAMA.”

Your mouth fell open, quite at the same time as your heart stopped beating in your chest. “What?”

Minhyuk nodded quickly, and he pulled you into a crushing hug. “Look at you! I knew you were going to make it.”

You laughed, pushing on his chest so he’d release you from his hold. “Are you sure?”

You couldn’t really believe it. It didn’t make sense to you, and all you could do was meet Minhyuk’s gaze as his eyes filled with proud tears.

“He’s right,” the host said. He raised his phone, showing the screen to you. Sure enough, you read the article that had just come out, and your name was the first thing that caught your attention. Then everything blurred behind a wall of unexpected tears, and you let out a disbelieved laugh.

“How?”

Minhyuk shrugged his shoulders, smiling fondly. “Because you’re the best at what you do?”

Both of you knew you had Min Yoongi to thank for that. Hell, without him mentioning you three months ago you would probably have given up on making music all together. But no, he mentioned you, and you skyrocketed, your music even making it to the radio.

It was unbelievable, and it seemed new heights could be reached. Because MAMA was a lot of visibility, and publicity too. A room, full of other artists, and you were one of the nominees? It truly was a dream, wasn’t it?

You could only thank your lucky star for it, though you’d never go to the extent of thanking Min Yoongi, would you?

*****

You had been hesitating for a few hours now. Watching your phone, reading Yoongi’s contact on the screen, and then shutting off the device to focus on the lyrics you were currently writing. It was hard to focus – your mind just kept going back to Min Yoongi.

You didn’t know if you wanted to thank him. To tell him this was all thanks to him. It felt too real, like acknowledging it would take your success away. And you couldn’t lose it – it was one of the last things you had.

Your mother had tried to call you, the day after you learned that you were nominated as rookie of the year. You had sent her straight to voicemail, like you’d been doing for a while anyway. You deleted the voicemail without listening to it, uncaring of what she would have to say to you.

Nothing would ever make you want to have her in your life again, in any way whatsoever. She was dead to you, and you wanted it to stay that way.

You sighed, and your eyes fell to the paper you were writing on. Your handwriting looked more like scribbles, and you had doodled some flowers at the top of the page, as if they’d help you find some inspiration. Needless to say, they hadn’t, as your thoughts always trailed back to Yoongi.

You looked at the two lines you had already written. The only two lines your brain had been able to come up with in the last three hours since you’d sat down.

In the land where no one knows my name

I seek a path that leads to a city

You didn’t like it. Something about the two lines didn’t work together, and you decided to strike through the last word. Because what city was it supposed to represent? Seoul? You’d been in Seoul for so long it didn’t seem quite right anymore. Unless the city represented something else entirely. Perhaps a dream?

You sighed once more, replacing the word city with dream.

In the land where no one knows my name

I seek a path that leads to a dream

You already liked it more. You replaced the ‘a’ in front of ‘dream’ to ‘my’ before humming it out loud. You knew you’d still have to tweak it a little, but already the next lines started forming in your head.

In the land where no one knows my name

I seek a path that leads to my dream

Bright light and Heaven’s door

I knock and scream at them to open

In a world where no one knows my name

I can almost hear Heaven’s choirs

You’d think they’d ring true and high

But I think they’re the devil in disguise

They push me out and in the mud

I beg on my knees, they don’t hear me

In the land where no one knows my name

I’m the scraps that you’ve thrown away

They say one day I’ll understand

But I’ll be the one to make the rules now ay

It always hit you like that. Once the inspiration found you, you couldn’t really stop. You had to put the words on paper, ink staining your hand as you barely let it dry. You wrote quickly, eyes not blinking, brain entirely zeroing in on the spot where the tip of your pen kissed the paper, tracing the curves of the words you were ingraining.

It was an exciting feeling. Because yes, you felt like your success was all you had left, but it was a lie. Because even without your success, you’d still have this. Your pen against the paper, the flow of words spilling out of you like an overflowing glass, nothing but you and the lyrics.

It was your home when you were younger, and you knew it would always be your home. Music, that is, and the lyrics that found their way out of the confines of your skull.

You reread the verse, smiling to yourself. You knew it would likely change a little by the time you’d consider the song ready, but for a first draft you really did like the sound of it.

Especially considering it had helped you escape the will to contact Min Yoongi.

Your eyes slid to the window of your apartment. The sun was setting outside, coloring the world in shades of gold that made it feel like you could conquer it, if you so wanted. You felt infinite then, as if the start and the end happened all at once, and never at the same time. Like there was just this moment, right now, and nothing else, but also everything else. Every little moment, stretching into infinity.

It was a recurring feeling to you, whenever you found your inspiration, like it was some old friend coming home.

Once the sun was fully set, dusk settling on the world outside, you focused back on your apartment. You had to cook dinner soon, but somehow the idea of it exhausted you. Perhaps because you had used a lot of brain power on the song, and now you just wanted to rest. You figured ordering some food tonight would be okay, and you ordered fried chicken as you moved to your couch. You turned on the TV, moving to a channel that played some drama you’ve been invested in, and you watched the show for a while, up until the fried chicken was delivered.

You were on your way back up to your apartment when your phone lit up in your hand, and you almost threw it across the hall when you saw the name on the screen.

It made no sense. Like you had summoned him from the depths of your skull. Like you had passed the itch to call to him, and unlike you he hadn’t been able to resist the urge.

You picked up the call, hands shaking lightly, as you neared your apartment door.

“Hello?”

There was a short silence, and then the unmistakable deep voice of Min Yoongi filled your ears. “Hey, Y/n.”

Your throat felt dry, a lump keeping you from swallowing properly. It indeed made you gulp, and you could only hope that he hadn’t heard.

“How have you been doing?” he asked.

You stopped in front of your door, putting the fried chicken down long enough so you could dial your password and push the door open. “I’ve been great,” you replied truthfully, because there was no use to lie to him.

You still were lonely, but it was easier now.

“I’m glad,” he pensively said. It took him a while to speak again, but once he did he said, “I wanted to congratulate you for being nominated as rookie of the year.”

You blushed, immediately embarrassed, even though you were walking in your apartment and no one could see you. You put the fried chicken down on the counter, and then headed to a cupboard to grab a plate.

“Thank you,” you told him. “I think it’s… because of you.”

He chuckled, deeply, and the sound brought you right back to that night you had spent in his bed. Your blush turned furious, and you gulped once.

“You’re getting the success you deserve, as an artist. It’s all you.”

“Right. No one would know about me if you hadn’t mentioned me that one time.”

You heard him sigh, and regretted how your words had come out aggressive. “I just told the truth.” He paused, and you could almost hear his brain work as he figured his next words carefully. “Your music does inspire me.”

“Seonbaenim…” you trailed off.

“Ah, no need to call me that anymore,” he gently said. “We’re equals now.”

You doubted you’d ever be his equal, but you still let out a nervous chuckle. “Okay, sorry.”

“It’s all good.”

Another awkward silence followed, as you put your plate down on the coffee table in your living room. You had gotten a nicer apartment once the money had started to come in, which meant you finally had more than just one room – an improvement that you still were struggling to wrap your head around.

You went back to the kitchen to grab the fried chicken, and then you settled on the floor, next to the coffee table.

“I was wondering…” Yoongi finally said, and you almost startled at the sound of his voice, as if you had forgotten he was on the other side of the line. “Would you like to… grab dinner one of these days? To celebrate your nomination.”

“Dinner? Us two?

He chuckled once more. “Now that I’m thinking of it, it might be coming out of nowhere to you.” He laughed, and you wondered if he was blushing just as furiously as you were.

Because you weren’t expecting him to want to see you again. It made you think of his girlfriend, and you couldn’t help but wonder if they were still together, or if they were broken up now. You didn’t think he’d suggest dinner if they were still dating, but it was hard to tell.

Maybe that was his way of making things professional with you again, because he wanted to release the song.

“Is it…” you trailed off, struggling to find the words. “Is it to discuss the song?”

You were pretty sure you could hear him gulp. “Ah, nah, the song doesn’t matter. I’m not going to force you to release it, not when you’ve made it clear you’re not interested. I just thought… you deserve to celebrate?” He paused, just long enough to collect his thoughts before he continued. “Unless you’re already celebrating? You have a manager, right?”

You didn’t think you had ever heard Yoongi string so many words one after the other before, except when he was rapping or singing. It made you laugh anxiously once more, though you reckoned the anxiety was slowly dwindling to nothingness.

“I do,” you answered. “But I’m not celebrating with him. We’ve never really hung out outside of work stuff before.”

“That could be considered as an important work event, no?” Yoongi pointed out. “Your first nomination… it always means a lot.”

You nibbled at your bottom lip, eyes reading the words on the unopened box of fried chicken again and again. “It does,” you admitted, voicing it for the first time. “I…” Your eyes filled with tears, and you took a deep, steadying breath. “I still can’t believe it.”

His voice was kind when he spoke again. “It’s hard to believe it at first,” he said, gently. “That’s why you deserve to celebrate.”

“But why… Why with you? We’re not even friends. Barely work acquaintances at best, especially after…”

You didn’t finish your sentence, and it seemed it had stunned Yoongi into silence, because he didn’t say anything. Didn’t reply, and for a moment you imagined that he had hung up. But he hadn’t, so you waited patiently.

“I have to admit,” Yoongi said, his voice infinitely small. “I’ve been thinking about you. I’m sorry for how things went between us. I guess I’m trying to make amends? And I really want to make sure you celebrate this nomination the right way.”

“Isn’t that weird though, considering what happened?”

He pondered for a time. “Maybe. It’s only weird if we let it be weird.”

He wasn’t wrong, but you still didn’t know why he wanted to be the one celebrating with you. You barely knew each other, outside of the song you had worked on and that night you had slept together. He didn’t know about what you did for fun, about what you liked and disliked. Could only imagine what your relationship with your family was, if he listened to the song closely. Yes, he could relate to your love for music, as he had the same one, but he still didn’t know you.

Had that night with you mattered to him, too? Had he felt comfort when he was by your side, in the soft sheets of his bed?

“Right,” you let out. “I just… I don’t know. What about your…”

“Oh.” He paused, sighing. “We broke up months ago.”

Your eyes widened, the revelation giving you hope that you hated. You weren’t sure you were supposed to be hopeful right now. But he still had called you, right? Still wanted to celebrate with you, no?

“Oh,” you echoed. “I’m sorry.”

“It was my decision,” he admitted. “You made me realize some stuff… but I’d rather talk about it in person?”

So that was the reason why he wanted to see you after all. And somehow, it made your initial reticence disappear, until you found yourself saying, “Sure. I think that could be a good idea.”

You could hear the relief in his voice as he spoke. “Great! Would you want to come over? I could cook you a nice meal.”

You smiled, softly. “You want to cook me a meal? We could just go to a restaurant and…”

But you couldn’t, right? People could recognize you, paparazzi could take pictures of you, rumours could blossom left and right.

“You know what?” you added before he could say something. “Yes, I’d like to come over. I’ll find a nice bottle to drink?”

“Sounds good,” he agreed. “Are you available sometime this week?”

As you scheduled your dinner with Min Yoongi, you wondered if he could hear the wild beats he had ignited in your chest. You wondered if he could hear the hope in your voice, hope that you tried to push away. Because the last time you had been hopeful, you had ended up hurt, badly. Way more than you had been before he had come into your life. You didn’t want to give him this power over you once more, and so you promised yourself one thing, and one thing only.

You would only be friends with him this time around. Nothing more. Because your self-preservation came first.

*****

Yoongi didn’t move, in the few months you didn’t talk to him. He still lived at that same fancy building you had used to hate, yet now you lived in a similar one. Not quite as expensive, and your apartment didn’t lay on two stories like his condo did, but making your way to his place wasn’t quite as anxiety-inducing as it had been then.

You had told Minhyuk that you were going to visit Min Yoongi. It felt like you needed him to know, now that you were famous enough to get recognized. Not enough for the receptionist to let you pass though. Indeed, the lady stopped you as you were walking in, clutching an expensive bottle of wine in your clammy hands.

“Excuse me,” she said, and your eyes widened as you turned to look at her.

You stopped in your tracks, and your heart picked up its pace in your chest. “Yes?”

“You don’t live here.”

The sudden will to reply ‘Obviously’ almost made you blurt it out, but you swallowed the word like a lump in your throat, glancing towards the elevator.

“I’m visiting a friend,” you told her, though you hesitated on the last word.

Because Min Yoongi wasn’t really a friend. Yet at least. And you reckoned you had no idea if he’d be one someday, especially after what had happened a few months back. You had been hopeful since your call on the phone, but ever since this morning you rather felt anxious, like you were about to be swallowed up by the ground never to be seen again.

Still, you stood strong, head up high as the lady eyed you up and down.

“And who is that?” she asked, an eyebrow cocked as she clearly didn’t believe you.

It might have been your fault. You had decided not to wear too expensive clothes, because you still weren’t used to even having some. Indeed, you had been receiving designer clothes by a couple of different brands, but you had yet to sign with one, feeling a little too overwhelmed from it. You had never been big on fashion after all, and if it wasn’t for Minhyuk’s suggestions, you were pretty sure you would have had more than one faux pas so far.

“Uh,” you let out, and your eyes dropped to the wine bottle. “Min Yoongi,” you revealed, and somehow you wondered if you just looked like a crazy fan.

Did it happen, sometimes? Did fans try to visit him, pretending they knew him?

The lady’s gaze narrowed as you looked up at her, trying to appear as convincing as you could. “He didn’t mention he had a friend coming over.”

Maybe you had grown lucky after all these years of bad luck. Maybe your stars had finally aligned, maybe the ocean’s waves were finally beating the shore in your favour. Because Min Yoongi stepped in from the outside world, hair ruffled by the wind, with a slight flush to his cheeks as if he’d been rushing home.

At the sight of the wine bottle in his hands, you assumed he was.

“Seonbaenim,” you instinctively said as a way of greeting, as your heart decided it was time to run wild.

He looked better than you remembered him to be. Healthier, as if the months had been good to him. And maybe they had been, the same way that they had been for you.

“I told you not to call me that,” he reminded you, after a few silent seconds of him just staring at you. “You can call me Yoongi.”

It was way too casual for you, so you just nodded your head as your cheeks burned.

Yoongi made his way towards you, nodding at the receptionist. You had half a thought of saying ‘told you so’, but you refrained, choosing peace over war. In truth, you weren’t quite sure you could speak right now, as your heart just kept rushing on and on as if it was running the last few miles of a marathon.

Silence was all that accompanied you and Min Yoongi on the elevator ride up to his condo, though once the doors slid open, he glanced at you. You wondered if it was blush dusting his cheeks or if the wind had been colder outside than what you had thought.

“How are you?” he asked, and as soon as your gaze met his, he looked away.

You gulped down the anxiety, before saying, “I’m okay. How are you?”

“Great.”

You followed him out of the elevator, all the way to his door before you managed to speak again. “You got some wine? I thought I was the one that was supposed to bring it.”

He chuckled, shyly. “Just trying to be a good host.” He dialed his code in, before pushing the door open. “After all, aren’t we supposed to be celebrating you tonight?”

You pursed your lips, walking in behind him. “Well,” you choked out, before gulping down another lump. “I wouldn’t have gotten nominated if it weren’t for you, as I said before.”

“Oh please,” he let out as he kicked his shoes off, and you quickly did the same. “How many times will I have to tell you that it was all you?”

You shrugged, and your eyes slid to the stairs, picturing him there all those months ago. It made your gaze drop to the ground, and the heaviness of his gaze on your profile told you that he had noticed.

“Was it?” you said, chuckling awkwardly as you tried to keep the atmosphere light. “It rather feels like it was all thanks to your interview.”

He shrugged it off, sliding his feet in a pair of slippers. “You can grab those slippers.”

Your eyes moved to a lonely pair closer to the door, and you nodded.

“I really was thinking of cooking something?” Yoongi said as you were putting on the slippers, and you wondered if he was purposefully ignoring what you had said. “I’m not big on take-out, but I do like to cook.”

You truly met his gaze for what felt like the first time tonight, even though it really wasn’t, and it felt like the whole world had slowed. Like the lights had dimmed, and the walls and art decorating them had gone out of focus. The only thing you could see was his soft gaze, and the way he had a small, shy smile on his lips. You were pretty sure you could count the lashes on his eyes, and it made you feel like you were falling forward, while simultaneously staying in place. Like motion sickness, and you blinked a few times as your gaze dropped to the floor once more, too much of a coward to hold his.

“Sure, I’d love to cook,” you replied, worrying at your bottom lip. “I can help.”

At that, a true, bright smile moved on his features, and it made the room feel warmer, cozier. “Then let’s go cook, Y/n.”

The way he said your name had your insides go molten, and it took you a good few seconds before you actually managed to follow him as he walked towards the kitchen. And that was how you found yourself cooking with him, talking about everything and nothing with just a little bit of awkwardness clinging to the air. You didn’t think it was a bad thing – it was only normal after the months and what had happened. After all, even then you hadn’t been particularly close to him. Yes, that night, he had been comfort personified, but you rather thought that It was only because you had no comfort in your life then. Nothing to cling to to make you want to get up day after day.

One full glass of wine later, as food was sizzling in a pan on the oven, Yoongi leaned against the counter, looking at you. You felt shy under his gaze, and you busied yourself by refilling the glasses. It didn’t help, as it forced you to step closer to him, but at least it occupied the silence for a time.

“How have you been adjusting to this?” he asked, motioning around him.

You were aware he wasn’t talking about his kitchen, but rather about your new life. It made you ponder for a time, because you thought you were adjusting well, though you weren’t quite sure if it was just an act. It was still too early to tell, and you didn’t have it in you to lie to Min Yoongi.

“Honestly,” you let out, slowly, as your eyes got lost in the rich colour of the wine. “It’s been easy, so far. But I don’t even know if it’ll last? And each time I do an interview, or talk in front of people, it just feels like someone else takes over. I’m not even sure it’s me.”

He remained silent for a while, making you feel as if you blurting out your truth was a little too real for the relationship you currently had with him – which was none, you reckoned. You saw him take a sip of wine from the corner of your eyes, and it took him a moment before he swallowed. Once he did, he finally spoke up, making relief flood through you.

“I understand,” he said. “More than you can imagine. I’ve felt this way since I debuted with Bangtan all those years ago. Struggled with it a lot if I’m honest.”

You worried at your lip, slowly nodding your head. “And how have you adjusted?”

He smiled, softly. “All thanks to the members. They supported me when things got rough. Made sure I was never alone, and helped me to be comfortable with my public persona.”

You could taste the slight tang of jealousy on your tongue, yet you pushed it away, ignored it as best as you could. “I can imagine. It must have been… great, to have all of them around as you climbed the ladder to success.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, tilting his head to the side. “That’s… why I wanted to make sure you weren’t alone in this?”

He looked startled, for a few seconds, eyes a little wide as his mouth fell open. He had a line of red wine drying on his lips, and your gaze focused on it as your brain took the words in, spinning them around until they made no sense whatsoever.

“I…” you trailed off. “Why?”

He sighed, probably realizing that he had been too upfront. “No one should be alone in this,” he carefully said, and he turned away from you to check the food on the stove.

It smelled delicious, but he must have deemed it wasn’t ready, because he put the lid back on the pan and faced you again.

“And I know… I know we shouldn’t be talking about the song,” he continued. “But I also heard your lyrics.”

Lyrics of loneliness and despair you had spat in his mic that day you had come to record. On your birthday, the epitome of loneliness every year.

“You did,” you said, shying from his gaze once more. You took a sip of the wine, let it roll on your tongue, and then you spoke again. “It hasn’t been as bad as before,” you admitted, carefully. “It doesn’t feel as lonely as before. I think it’s because I’m not struggling with everything else anymore. Like… financially, and all that. I used to not even know when my next meal was going to be, and now I can always order or cook if I have time for groceries.”

The kind smile on Yoongi’s lips felt like the warm rays of a spring sun, and you couldn’t help the shy smile that grew on your own lips. “It does help,” he said. He glanced at the food, before settling his gaze back on you. “I bet you’ve been feeling like you are running out of time, though.”

“Gosh,” you let out, and you laughed awkwardly. “Yeah. It feels like I always have schedules to do, and whenever I don’t I feel bad if I’m not working on new lyrics.”

“I totally get that.”

There was a silence, only interrupted by an alarm Yoongi had set for the rice cooker. He turned it off, and then his gaze slid to his kitchen table that still stood empty where it was a couple of meters away.

“Let me set the table,” he told you, not meeting your gaze, and then you spent the next few minutes watching him do so, feeling a little awkward in your spot in the kitchen. It was lessened when Yoongi put some music on, some chill beats that wouldn’t make the conversation hard.

“Thank you,” you told him when he moved back to the kitchen to check the food. “I could have helped.”

“No,” he said, reassuringly. “I told you, we’re celebrating you tonight. You already helped with cutting the vegetables.”

If someone could call your poor attempt at cutting the onions as help, then you would take the compliment. “Right,” you let out, laughing lightly.

And for the first time tonight it didn’t feel awkward or forced. It felt comfortable, as if watching Yoongi set the table, in the mundanity of the action, had brought back the comfort he radiated back then.

“Trust me,” he said, offering you a toothy grin.

It was surprising, and it did things to you that made your cheeks burn and your tongue ache for the taste of wine. So you took a long gulp, before moving to grab the bottle and place it on the table.

“Here, I’ve contributed,” you told him, and your nose was a little scrunched up, awkwardly so, when you looked at him again.

He laughed, a sound you reckoned you could get used to hearing, and then he started putting the food in bowls. “I don’t know what I would have done without your input.” He sounded sarcastic, teasing, and maybe, just maybe you really could be friends. “Thank you.”

“No problem, seonbaenim.” This time, you said the formal nickname teasingly, and he rolled his eyes, slightly shaking his head.

“You have to stop. You’re making me feel old.”

“Would you rather me calling you ahjussi?”

The way his smile fell to be replaced by a startled expression had you burst out a laugh that was nothing but feminine, one he joined after a few seconds.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asked, and you grinned at him as he carried the bowls to the table. “I see.”

The atmosphere shifted, after that. Conversation grew easier, not forced, and the exquisite taste of the food made you feel like maybe you could cook after all. You finished the first wine bottle as you ate, which you reckoned might have been a bad idea, because you were tipsy by the time Yoongi uncorked the second one, his cheeks having turned red from the few glasses he had already ingested.

“Are you sure we should be drinking that too?” you asked, and you giggled as he threw you a no-bullshit look.

“Celebrating, remember?” he replied. “We have to be getting drunk.”

“Just us two?”

His gaze widened slightly, and he put down the wine bottle. “Unless you don’t want to.”

You raised your glass, looking at the light over his kitchen island through it. “I do want to. Just feels like we should… not be stupid this time around, no?”

His features were somber when your gaze slid to him. “Right,” he said, slowly nodding. “I didn’t invite you over with any intentions, if that can reassure you.”

You were too tipsy for where the conversation was going, so you said, “I want to be your friend, Min Yoongi. Let’s not be professional this time. Let’s just be friends.”

His eyes lit up, slowly followed by a smile that took over his mouth in the most beautiful way. He looked heavenly, standing there, long hair behind his ears, pale, expensive Louis Vuitton sweater rolled on his forearms. He looked princely, like he had looked that night, and it made your gaze slide away.

For preservation, perhaps.

“I’d love to call you a friend,” he said, gently. “I’d really love to.”

You pursed your lips, steeling yourself for the glance you sent to him. “Then pour me some wine, Min Yoongi.”

He laughed, and soon enough he was back at the table next to you, talking about what growing up was for him. You could see the similarities in your past, and maybe that was why you had always been comfortable with him before. Because he really did understand where you were coming from, though he had been able to fix things with his family.

Which wasn’t something you ever wanted to do. You were content with not talking to them, and you were pretty sure that wouldn’t change. Especially not as the only reason why they were contacting you now was because they probably had heard about you on the television.

“I swear!” Yoongi said, slightly shaking his head, a long time after the conversation had shifted to anecdotes about his past and yours. “I’ve never seen anyone get so worked up about some bananas.”

You laughed, quickly followed by him. The retelling of a fight between Jungkook and Hoseok had you shedding a tear, and Yoongi watched you carefully as you dried it with the back of your hand.

“That is so stupid,” you commented.

He nodded wisely. “I know. But it’s been a long time. Jungkook-ie was mostly upset because it was a gift.”

You chuckled. “Bananas?”

“Yes.” Yoongi laughed, and then his eyes slid to your empty glass in front of you.

You were halfway through the second bottle, and the alcohol had been buzzing through your system. The scene had lost its focus around you, the wine fuzzing it up until all that was left were Yoongi’s pretty features. His cheeks had turned red a while ago, and you reckoned yours probably had too, sometime between your third and fourth glass. You didn’t really care – this Yoongi was comfortable, friendly. Something you had been needing more than you would have ever cared to admit – a friend.

You liked how easy it was, that friendship. And it really was, even in the days and weeks that followed you reconnecting with Yoongi. Like maybe that was what you had always been meant to be – friends, and nothing more.

He never talked to you about the song again. Never pressed you to listen to it, to release it, but if you were in his head you’d know that he was dying to drop it out of the blue, to have his fans know just what you felt, what he felt. Because the loneliness that had inhabited you when you had written your share of the lyrics was common to him, though it was growing less frequent now that you were in his life.

Min Yoongi really was comfort indeed.

*****

After weeks of talking once in a while, of hanging out even more rarely, with Yoongi’s and your busy schedule, MAMA arrived. You were anxious about it – it was your first award show after all. Yoongi was there in spirit to reassure you before, sending you an expensive whiskey bottle as a gift. He was getting ready with the members of BTS that were attending, which meant you weren’t going to see him before the ceremony. So all you did that day was prepare with a glam team hired by Minhyuk, and then you were driven to the venue where MAMA was held.

It was surreal, to sit in that venue. With the other artists, the whole scene of music that was Asia. You were sat next to Twice, a group you had never expected you’d see in real life. Sana and Jihyo congratulated you on your nomination, and you immediately went into camera mode, easy smile and bright eyes on display.

If you were honest, the camera mode was barely faked today. No, you rather were amazed by the scene, by the crowd and the buzzing of chatter and laughter. You awed at the sight of so many famous people, of Twice and Stray Kids and some groups you didn’t even know. You hadn’t realized you were part of it before today, and now you could see IU sitting on the other side of the venue, along with some people you didn’t recognize.

Imposter syndrome chose this moment to hit you. Out of nowhere, the way the first bolt of lightning strikes, even before the sound of thunder is heard. With clammy hands, you watched as the lights dimmed, and the crowd ushered until a spotlight shone on the animator of the evening. You barely could listen, barely could watch the groups performing. All you could think was that you were alone in this room, without anyone by your side.

Not even Minhyuk. And it wasn’t because he hadn’t wanted to – for some reason, he hadn’t received an invitation along with you. Something you didn’t quite understand, but didn’t really have anything to say about it. Because, after all, you were just a rising star, and rising stars tended to fall into darkness more often than not.

Why would you be any different?

You were starting to panic. You knew it, and yet you couldn’t help it. Sana must have noticed, because during a commercial break, she leaned closer to you.

“Hey,” she greeted you once more. “Are you okay? Do you need water?”

The whole of Twice turned towards you, and your eyes widened. “Uh,” you let out. “I don’t…”

But Jeongyeon was already extending a water bottle towards you, and you thanked her as you took it. Your hands shook a little as you uncapped it, but the first swig had the anxiety calm down, just enough for you to thank the girls again.

“It’s okay!” Sana reassured you. “We know how overwhelming this can be. Can’t imagine what it must be like for someone alone.”

You winced, glancing around. Your gaze stopped as it met Yoongi’s. He was not too far from IU, with the rest of the BTS members in attendance. You hadn’t noticed him before, perhaps because they had arrived late.

You had been so early you had been able to see everyone walking in.

Yoongi nodded his head at you, offering you a secretive smile. It grounded you in the present, and you finally felt the wave of panic recede, the way the ocean recedes at low tide. It calmed you down, and you found yourself able to actually enjoy the show from then on.

When it was time for the award for rookie of the year to be announced, anxiety returned to you. It wasn’t the same kind of anxiety – no, it was the kind that one anticipates, uses to push themselves forward. You leaned on the edge of your seat, almost imperceptibly, listening as they called out the names. Smiling shyly as they said your name, and the big screen shone with an image of you. You watched yourself, prettily sitting there, with your hair perfectly styled and makeup on fleek, feeling like you were watching someone else entirely. It was an out-of-body experience, somehow, especially as the camera you took over.

The crowd was silenced expectantly as the announcer opened the envelope, slowly. You thought you could hear the envelope tear. It was like it was echoing, on repeat like a song stuck in your head. All you could do was watch as they got the paper out, and when they said your name, loud and clear, your eyes widened as your lips parted slightly.

For an unknown reason, your head turned towards Sana first, and she offered you a bright smile as the room erupted into claps. You slowly got up, feeling thousands of eyes following your every move, and your own gaze slid to the other side of the room once more.

Yoongi was clapping, with the softest smile on his lips. It was a smile you rarely saw from him – it was fond, like you were the sun after a long night. He mouthed a congratulation, only meant for you – something personal, that you tucked in a safe corner of your heart. It made you stand straighter, and it guided you towards the scene as you walked to accept your award.

You bowed as you were handed the trophy, its weight surprisingly heavy as it landed in your hands, and you smiled widely as the announcer congratulated you. You thanked them, and then moved to the mic, letting the camera persona take over.

And take over she did, giving thanks to the people that helped you. You couldn’t resist but gaze towards Yoongi as you kept talking, and you had to bite your tongue not to thank him too. Because to you, it was thanks to him that you were standing there, in this spot. The winner of rookie of the year – a year ago, you were all but an unknown busker, barely getting by. And this year, you were shining in the light, rising towards the heavens.

An out-of-body experience indeed.

When it was done, you could barely remember anything. From the whole evening, if you were honest, as if it was too good to be true. You had been invited to an after-party, and on your way to it, after you had changed into a less formal attire, you found yourself coming back to your body.

You blinked once, twice, letting out a small, disbelieved laugh. The driver glanced at you, cocking an eyebrow in the rear-view mirror.

“Sorry,” you apologized, and then you let out another laugh. It sounded a little crazy, perhaps, but you didn’t care.

Your body was the vessel of a happiness it had never known before, and you were going to enjoy it. To drink it till the very last drop, because who knew when you’d feel like this again?

You got to the party, almost at the same time as another similar SUV. You smiled as you saw Sana and Jihyo come out, and they motioned for you to join them.

Another friendship you had never seen coming. But it blossomed easily, and they chatted and laughed and drank with you for a while. Long enough for you to forget that there was actually a reason why you had accepted the invitation to this after-party in the first place.

Min Yoongi was in attendance. And you thought you could feel the moment he walked into the place. As if the frantic energy lessened, somehow, and your eyes immediately searched for him. You saw Hoseok first, and he grinned as his gaze met yours, waving at you.

You waved back, which didn’t go unnoticed to Sana and Jihyo.

“You know Hobi-nim?” Jihyo asked, pretty mouth forming a pout. “So the rumors are true after all.”

You winced. “The rumors are out of mind but yes, I do know Hobi-nim.” You did, from Yoongi. You had only met him twice before though.

You didn’t mind Jihyo’s comment. Mostly because it was said so genuinely, so nicely, with no ounce of jealousy or any other negative emotion behind. You didn’t think she had it in her anyway. Neither did Sana, who just said, “Rumors are always out of mind. Don’t pay attention to them.”

Easier said than done, but you still nodded your head, before glancing towards Hoseok again. This time, you noticed Jungkook and Yoongi too, and the latter offered you that same secretive and fond smile he had offered you earlier. It made something in you constrict, and blush crept on your cheeks.

“You can go with them, if you want,” Jihyo told you, noticing the emotions on your face. “This is a safe place for us celebrities to mingle.”

Sana chuckled. “We like parties like this. Makes us feel a little more normal.”

“Do they happen often?” you enquired, and you broke eye contact with Yoongi to meet the girl’s gaze.

“Not really,” she admitted. “Unfortunately.” It was her turn to look towards Yoongi, Hoseok and Jungkook, and then she added, “Do go with them. Yoongi-nim is looking this way.”

This time, you turned fully beet red, but luckily enough the expensive foundation on your skin held, hiding your emotions. To Sana’s eyes, perhaps, but you were pretty sure Jihyo knew.

And knew what? You didn’t even know. Yoongi was a friend, nothing more, and you liked it that way. You liked that you could count him as a friend, because God knew you needed friends in your life.

“Well then, better go talk to him before he makes rumors spread,” you joked, and the two girls laughed.

Before you went, you exchanged numbers with them, promising that you could meet up in the following days, and then you were off to meet Min Yoongi, where he stood close to a wall on the other side of the room.

He didn’t like parties. That much you knew. He had only decided to go because he wanted to be there for you, whether the outcome of the evening was positive or not. And it was positive, the brightest thing that had ever happened to you. An evening built of the stuff that makes the sun shine – bright, ever-lasting. You clung to that feeling as you reached Yoongi’s side, and Hoseok and Jungkook dipped as soon as you appeared, leaving you alone with Yoongi.

“Congratulations,” he said, this time aloud.

It still felt personal, and you tilted your head to the side, offering him a smile. “I should congratulate you. It’s because of you.”

He rolled his eyes, chuckling. “You know it was all you. You have to stop saying it was me.”

“Right.” You narrowed your eyes, imperceptibly. “Of course I won rookie of the year because I was busking in Hongdae.”

“Come on,” he let out. “We’ve been over this a thousand times.”

“And we’ll go over it a thousand times more until you accept that it’s because of you.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “Right. Then why don’t we get a drink to celebrate me? Since it’s all because of me.”

You laughed, eyes sliding to the bar. “Whiskey?”

“Champagne?”

“You like champagne?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. But if we are celebrating something that didn’t happen, then we should drink something we don’t like.”

You cocked your head to the side once more. “What makes you think I don’t like champagne?”

“Do you?”

Your silence was answer enough for Yoongi. You both laughed, and then he motioned towards the bar. “After you.”

You nodded, slowly, and then moved towards the alcohol, and towards your salvation, maybe. Because though Yoongi had always felt like comfort, right now he felt different. New, a little like you had felt that night months ago.

The night you were trying not to think about, whenever you hung out with him. You had never talked about his ex either, as if the subject was taboo. And perhaps it was if you wanted to maintain a friendship with Min Yoongi.

“We’ll take two whiskeys,” Yoongi said as you reached the bar, and you threw him an offended look.

“Whiskey? I thought we were going for champagne.”

“I’ll be damned if you catch me drinking champagne,” he muttered.

It was said so adorably you widened your gaze, letting out a small laugh. “Maybe you’re already damned,” you said, and you raised your hand so the barmaid noticed you. “Can you change that for champagne, please?”

She nodded, and you turned back towards a bewildered Yoongi. “You…”

He fell silent, and you cocked an eyebrow. “Yes?”

He only snorted, shaking his head slightly as his eyes fell to the floor. “Nothing.”

You moved a little closer, trying to meet his gaze. “Right.”

He rolled his eyes, gently pushing you away. It was familiar, more familiar than your usual friendship, but it felt fitting for the night and its brightness.

Your champagne arrived, and you looked down at the golden liquid as Yoongi handed you your glass. Your fingers barely even touched, yet you felt the warmth of a thousand suns crawling up your arm, slowly. You would have flinched had the feeling not been so pleasurable, especially as Yoongi looked at you again.

He looked at you differently. Like it was his first time seeing you after a long time. Like you were a flower he had forgotten, years ago, and was now only seeing again. It made your heart stop in your chest, before it started again on an erratic beat.

“Enjoy,” he said, and he clinked his glass with yours before downing his own.

Your gaze widened as he put the glass down on the bar, wincing slightly. “What was that for?”

“Your turn.”

“What?” you let out, and you laughed.

His eyes were different again, familiar, when they looked at you this time. The eyes of the friend you had grown to know in the last few weeks. “Finish it, so we can get some real alcohol.”

“I don’t want to chug.”

“Why not?”

You pursed your lips. “I don’t want to get too drunk tonight.”

He remained silent for a time, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Why not?”

Because. Because last time he had looked at you like this while you had been drinking had led to an unimaginable chaos, one you didn’t wish to revisit. No matter how comfortable he was, Yoongi was always going to just be a friend.

“I want to remember tonight,” you chose to say, carefully. “I’ve already forgotten most of the award show, I don’t want to forget the after-party too.”

He laughed, a clear sound that was meant just for your ears, in the loud music playing in the party. It was almost your first time noticing the beat since you had joined Yoongi, as if you had joined him in a pocket outside of this room.

Crashing back to reality had you look down at your glass. And then you knocked it back, chugging it in a few long sips as Yoongi watched you with a widened gaze.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said as you put it down. “Let’s get you some water.”

“Why?” you asked. “Why do you care if I remember or not?”

Your tone had changed. He noticed it right away, and he stilled in front of you, turning to stone. “Because you’re my friend?” he answered carefully. “If you want to remember, then the good friendly thing to do is make sure you do.”

The way he said that sentence, with that low voice of his, the one that only came out when he was in private, or perhaps when he was tired… it did things to you. Made you look at him as if the light was shining differently on him.

Differently, yes, but all the same too. Shining like that night months ago, and if you weren’t in public you think you would have grabbed his collar and pulled him into a kiss.

A terrifying thought if you had ever seen one, and it made you glance around. “Should we… go somewhere else?”

It wasn’t what you had meant to ask. It was threading dangerous territory, a slope that could only lead to mistakes again. To unprofessionalism, though this time your relationship with him wasn’t professional.

You were giving yourself whiplash. All the months, of fame and newfound friendship, were giving you whiplash. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to it.

“You don’t like the party?” he asked.

You met his gaze. “I know you don’t. We don’t have to stay.”

His lips parted slightly, and your eyes fell to them, admiring their pinkish tint. “What would there be for you to remember, then?”

You.

You didn’t say it, only shrugged your shoulders. “I already partied before you got here. Do you know that Sana and Jihyo are the sweetest girls?”

He smiled, softly. “Are they? I’ve never really spoken to them.”

You wet your lip, eyes sliding to the empty champagne glasses on the bar, almost at the same time as they were picked up to be put away. “Yeah. And honestly, I don’t do parties all that much either.” You brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, only then noticing that your hands were shaking slightly. “I only came because you were going to be here.”

“Did you?” he asked.

He sounded like he didn’t believe you, like you were supposed to be enjoying the scene around you. And you were, you really were, but the light was shining on something else entirely now, a treasure you wanted to find, like it was but the red cross on a treasure map.

You didn’t know if it existed, but tonight you wanted to believe that it did.

“Yes, I did,” you replied truthfully.

He chuckled. “And I only came here because you were coming.”

You smiled, knowingly. “So, should we go?”

*****

The city lied beneath your feet. An ocean of twinkling lights, out of reach. Like jewels shining in the night, never-ending. You felt small, standing atop the building, and your breath froze in the air, curling up to reach the clouds above.

“It’s cold,” Yoongi stated, and you glanced at him.

His hands were buried deep in his coat pockets, and he was visibly trying to hide his face in the collar. You smiled at him, shivering in a soft breeze.

“The cold is sobering,” you replied, eyes trailing back to the city. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Yoongi took a few steps forward, until he was standing next to you. He contemplated the view, and to your surprise he tilted his head back to look at the clouds.

“The sky looks like it’s on fire,” he commented.

You imitated the position, your eyes trailing to the sky. Indeed, the clouds were shining orange, reflecting the neon lights of the city below. “It does,” you agreed. “Would make for good song lyrics.”

He chuckled. “You never stop thinking about music, do you?”

“I don’t.” You paused, and the feeling of his heavy gaze on your profile had you look at him. “Do you?”

“Nah.” He shook his head, slightly. “Sometimes, I think it’s a gift. Other times, it feels like it’s a curse.”

Understandable. Because if the grind never stopped, then neither could you.

“I’ve started writing a new song,” you revealed, as it felt fitting in the moment. Your eyes trailed back to the city below, and you wondered if this city, this collection of shimmering lights, was what you were referring to in your lyrics. If it was the dream you were writing about. “Why is it that most of my songs are sad or angry?”

Yoongi didn’t say anything for a long time. Only contemplated the city in a pensive silence. Wind lapped at his coat, at your hair, and you shivered again. Your own coat was tightly wrapped around you, but it did nothing to keep the cold at bay.

“Are you sad and angry?” he asked.

You pondered for a time. “It’s hard to let go of emotions that have been integral parts of your life for so long.”

To your surprise, he stepped closer to you. Maybe because it was cold, and your bodies gave off heat, just enough for you to be attracted to each other. Like your gravity sucked him in, and soon enough his arm was pressed against yours.

“The letting go is the hardest part,” he admitted. “Because it’s a comfort zone. But once you allow yourself to feel… it’s a whole new world.”

“How did you do it?”

He sighed, and his eyes dropped to the ground beneath your feet, no longer admiring the city. “I’d say it’s Hoba, that helped me the most. But all of them. They showed me that there’s more to life than anger and sadness.”

“Your music still carries it, though,” you pointed out.

“It does.” Head hung low, Min Yoongi looked the perfect example of defeat. Like he’d run a race, reached the end only to realize he was going in the wrong direction. “The emotions still exist. I still experience them sometimes. And…” he trailed off, looking in the distance. “It’s what my fans want of me. They don’t expect me to release soft music all that much.”

“So, you’re doing it for the fans?”

He smiled, softly. “I love my fans. I’d be nothing without them.”

A year ago you would have been deadly jealous but now, now you had fans of your own. You could understand him.

“They love you too,” you reminded him. “They’d still love you if you released different music.”

He shrugged. “I have an album coming soon. It’s different.”

“Is it?”

A car honked in the world far below. “It is. I can send it to you, if you want to listen.”

“I’d love to.”

He met your gaze, and for a moment it was as if winter had ceded its place to summer, and warmth blossomed inside of you. “As long as you let me read your lyrics.”

You winced, chuckling lightly. “Maybe when the song is ready.”

He faced you, extending a hand in the air between you. “Deal.”

You grabbed his fingers, gently. They were cold, terribly so, and you felt bad for forcing him to be out here. “Deal,” you agreed, shaking his hand.

His thumb moved on the back of your hand, slowly, drawing a strange pattern. Current flew through your bloodstream, and you shivered once more, for a completely different reason this time.

Your brain chose this moment to remind you of that night, months ago, when you had gone to his place wanting to tell him how he had made you feel. When you had seen him with his ex, with his girlfriend. When you had realized he had chosen her, though he had never really known you were an option, had he?

You let go of his hand, albeit reluctantly, but you remained facing him.

“You never told me…” you started, but didn’t know if you should finish. Mostly because you didn’t think it was a good idea to ask, not when the evening still shone like a thousand stars. Especially now that Yoongi was looking at you again, with that fond glimmer in the depths of his eyes.

“What?” he asked after a few seconds, voice small in the infinity of the world.

“You never told me why you broke up with your girlfriend, in the end.”

If the world could stop breathing, you were pretty sure it did, in that instant. It held its breath, as you watched Min Yoongi carefully.

“She cheated on me, before I met you,” he revealed, flatly. “Claiming I was too absent. I took her back when she came back… because I felt lonely. Realized she was the source of the loneliness and broke up for good.”

You held his gaze, hoping yours held nothing of how you felt. Because you felt a lot, as the truth reached your ears. You ached for him, ached at knowing that he had felt like that back then. But you ached for yourself too, because what else had he been pursuing with you other than the company she couldn’t give him?

You had just been in the right place at the right moment. Something that he had been able to use for comfort. The way you had sought his comfort, perhaps.

“I’m sorry,” you said after a while. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

His eyes were unreadable, but his cheeks were tinged red with the cold. He looked pretty, angelic, in front of you. With the burning clouds overhead, you’d almost think he was a fallen angel.

“It’s okay,” he reassured you, his voice low once more. Intimate, just for you. “I never should have let her back in.”

“Why?” you asked, and your throat suddenly felt dry. You tried to swallow, but a lump made you gulp.

“Why did you actually come to me, that night?” he asked. “Not when we recorded the song. After we…” He trailed off, but you knew what he was referring to.

He was referring to the night you had believed you could confess to him how you had felt. To that night, where hope turned to decay, and all you could do was let go of comfort. All you could do was go back to the sad discomfort that was your life.

“I…” You bit your lip, pulling on some dry skin. “I wanted to tell you what it had meant for me? When we slept together.”

He gulped. You could visibly see it, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “And what did it mean?”

Your gaze dropped in the vague space between you. It felt infinitesimally immense right now, like he was an entire universe away. “We shouldn’t be speaking about that.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re friends now.” You met his gaze, surprised to find his pained. “Friends don’t speak about such things.”

“True friendship is when there’s no taboo subject, is it not?”

Min Yoongi and his wisdom would be the death of you.

“I guess it is,” you said. “I just… I don’t want to ruin this.”

He took a step closer to you. So close you could feel his warmth, even though the night was cold. “Why would it ruin anything?”

Your heart beat faster, in your chest. Reaching a speed unknown to it, one that left you breathless. “Because…”

Because what? You didn’t even know. You weren’t drunk, at least not on alcohol. But you sure were drunk on the aftertaste of winning the award, of being right here with him on top of this building as if you were standing in your own pocket in this world. A little like it felt down at the party, but so much more. So much so that you pictured yourself leaning in, falling into his orbit.

“I don’t think it’d ruin anything,” he said, voice so low you really felt yourself leaning in. “I was there that night. I know how it felt.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I told you I didn’t do regret, right?” he asked, question seemingly out of the blue.

“You did.”

“I regretted what I did to you, for the longest time. Thought I deserved to be lonely. So it wasn’t just because of her, that I broke up. It was because of you too. I regret going back to her in the first place.”

Softly, like a feather falling or snow dancing in the wind, your heartbeat found a steady rhythm once more.

“You shouldn’t have regretted,” you said, and you surprised both of you as your hand reached between you, and you cupped his cheek. “I don’t think we would have worked, then.”

“Why?”

“We were too different.” You chuckled, infinitely sadly. “We still are, aren’t we?”

“We’re not different in the ways that matter,” he pointed out.

And when he leaned forward, you welcomed him in as one welcomes a lover home from the war. You let him press his chapped lips on yours, let his mouth move against yours in the slowest dance. As if he was afraid you’d pull away, but tonight you didn’t want to pull away.

It wasn’t about seeking comfort anymore. It really was about going home, to something that could be great.

You kissed Min Yoongi under the clouds, in the winter night. You kissed him with all the longing you had felt, though you had been trying to ignore it. It came back, far stronger now, and it made you grab at his collar so you could pull him closer. He sighed in the kiss, big hands finding your waist, holding you in place.

And when he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, your breaths mingled, forming a single cloud that moved up towards the sky.

“See?” he murmured. “Nothing to be ruined.”

“Yoongi,” you breathed.

He said your name, and then pulled away, just enough for his eyes to flutter open. You looked at him too, and when your gazes met, you understood that it really had been supposed to happen this way all along. You hadn’t been supposed to be with him then. Because it was unprofessional, yes, but mostly because you would have always felt like you weren’t enough.

Hell, you didn’t know if you were enough right now, but you were already something more.

“Do you want to go in?” he asked after a moment of gazing at each other. “I’m starting to freeze.”

You laughed, the sound lighter than dust in the sun. “Yes.”

“I’d invite you to my hotel room but…” he trailed off, resting his forehead against yours again. “Let’s take this slow. Let’s wait until we’re back home.”

“We’re going home tomorrow.”

He chuckled. “Well, that’s still slower than going at it tonight, no?”

“We can wait longer,” you said, and you were the one that pulled away this time around. Because you needed to look him in the eye when you said the next words. “If we’re going to really do this, I want to do it the right way.”

His smile shed warmth and light on every dark spot of your soul, until you were shining from within. “Works for me.”

*****

Dating Min Yoongi felt strange. Unreal, like it was a dream come true. Like you were walking the land of dreams, and really you wished you wouldn’t have to wake up. You didn’t think you would – he pulled through every day. Met you in the middle, in the places that mattered most. He supported you as an artist, and supported you as a person too.

But for some reason, you hadn’t been able to fully give yourself to him yet. You had only been going on dates, never sleeping over, never sleeping together. And if he minded, he never said it.

The holidays came, and Yoongi invited you to a party hosted by Jeong Hoseok. All the other members were in attendance too, except Kim Taehyung, who apparently was away in Daegu for the week. Some of the members also had their partners with them – in truth, everyone did, except Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon and Jeong Hoseok, though the latter had a friend over that seemed a little too comfortable with him for her to just be a friend.

The girlfriends were nice. Sweet, another group of friends you hadn’t expected to make. None of them treated you differently because you were somehow famous, probably because they were all dating people far more famous than you’d ever be. You got along with Hoseok’s friend the most, and you thought it was only because it was also her first time meeting everyone.

The party was fun. It was more of a dinner, with alcohol and food like a banquet for the gods. You ate so much you thought you couldn’t walk anymore after, yet you managed to make your way home with Yoongi.

Because this time, when he had asked you to sleep over, you hadn’t found it in you to refuse. Perhaps because it was the holidays, and the feeling of coziness and comfort that the days oozed had you wanting to drown in his familiarity.

If Yoongi noticed the switch in you, he didn’t say. Ever so the patient man when it came to you.

You looked at him, during the drive home. His features shone softly, in the neon light of the streetlamps. It made his skin glow like honey, like amber. You reached between you, grazing your fingers on his cheek.

“What?” he asked, letting out a small chuckle. “Have they made you drink too much?”

You snorted, resting your head against your seat. “No.”

He spared a quick glance at you, before resuming his attention on the street in front of him, as he was the one driving the car. Indeed, for this private dinner you had all chosen to drive yourself, instead of asking for the company to drive you around.

“What’s up, then?”

You sighed, a little dreamily. “You’re pretty, Min Yoongi.”

It was hard to tell in this light, but you were pretty sure his cheeks had dusted with pink. “And then you say you haven’t drank too much?”

You laughed. “It’s just a compliment!”

“You don’t usually compliment me like this,” he pointed out.

He wasn’t wrong, but it felt fitting, tonight. Because you were staying over, maybe.

“Well, I should start doing it. You deserve it.”

He snorted. “You’re adorable.”

Now, it was your turn to blush, and your eyes trailed to the street in front of you.

“Am I?”

He grabbed your hand, entwining your fingers. “You sure are.”

When you got to his place, Yoongi parked his car in the underground parking lot. He forced you to stay in your seat while he walked around the car to hold the door open for you, and you swatted his arm as you got up.

“You know you don’t have to do this with me?”

“But I want to,” he said, pouting. “Can’t I do something for you once in a while?”

“You always do stuff for me.”

It was true. Whatever you needed Yoongi was always ready to provide, whether it was help with some lyrics or a hug.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t do more,” he said as you stepped out of the car, standing next to him.

By instinct, you reached between you, one hand resting on his waist as you tilted your head back, slightly, enough to be looking up at him.

“Right,” you breathed, and your eyes moved to his lips as he wet them.

“What’s that look on your face?” he asked, voice low and husky.

You smirked, ever so slightly. “What look?”

He narrowed his eyes, leaning closer to you, and the smirk disappeared. “So you want to be a brat?”

You hadn’t expected that of him. In truth, you didn’t really know how he was sexually, considering the only time you had had sex with him was when you were both drunk and vulnerable, trying to chase comfort in the other’s touch.

“Do you like that?” you asked, breathlessly.

He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, before pulling away to explore your features with that dark gaze of his. “I like whatever you like.”

“So if I tell you to get on your knees and eat me out you would?” you whispered, smirk moving back to your lips.

He had the decency to blush as he spared a careful look around. “Here?”

You pondered, tilting your head to the side to reveal the soft skin of your neck. “You think we can wait until we’re upstairs?”

“Anyone could see us.”

You looked around. “The garage is empty.”

He murmured your name, dangerously. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Then we shall die together.”

It was the last thing you said before he pressed his lips against yours, ravishing your mouth in a wet kiss that had you moan. His large hands found your sides, pulling you back against the car until you were stuck between it and him. His tongue toyed with yours, exploring your mouth until you were panting, feeling the start of his erection on your lower stomach.

He pulled away, just enough so he could move down and press warm kisses on your jaw. He then bent down a little more, reaching your shoulder, and he bit at the skin over the collar of your coat.

You breathed out his name, sensually, as your hands got lost in his long locks. It only enticed him further, and he grinded into you. It made you throw your head back, and this time he nipped at your neck, not so gently, eliciting another moan from you.

“Gosh, Yoongi,” you said, and he raised his head to look at you.

His pupils were blown wide in his eyes, clear indicators of his lust for you. They made his gaze look like a bottomless pit, one you jumped in right as you pulled him back into another kiss, sucking on his bottom lip.

You blindly reached for the knob of the car’s door, the one for the backseat behind you, and when you found it you pushed Yoongi away, just so you could open it. As you did so, he shut the passenger side door, and he followed you in as you lied on the backseat.

He hovered over you, hair falling around his face, and you pushed it away from his face, holding it in a ponytail-like grip. Some strands escaped the confines of your fist, softly cascading the sides of his face again.

Min Yoongi was a prince. A prince and an angel. A dream, something you had never thought you’d witness yourself in your entire life. And witness you did, with your eyes and every inch of your body that you knew he’d come to worship. Just like you worshipped him and the ground he walked on.

“What?” he murmured as you just kept carefully surveying him.

“You’re so beautiful,” you breathed, and you watched as his mouth fell open.

He had never been good at accepting compliments, even those coming from you.

He whispered your name like a lover’s caress. “So are you. You’ve been a vision, ever since the first time I saw you.”

You wet your lips. “The first time?”

“I was walking in Hongdae, with some company staff. Didn’t get recognized by some dumb twist of luck I’d say. But you were busking.” You thought you could see him gulp. Hear him, as he swallowed a lump in his throat. “I couldn’t walk away. Just kept looking at you, for so long the staff started getting worried. Because they didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention. But gosh, you were so beautiful.” He chuckled, lowly. “It was like I had walked into a temple and seen a goddess.”

“Yoongi,” you whined, because you too weren’t good with compliments.

But he wasn’t done.

“And you sang. The voice of an angel, if I’m honest. I was entranced. Then I spent weeks trying to find you, making staff go to Hongdae to try and get your name. Because I needed to know you. Needed to know you weren’t just a construct of my imagination.”

He pecked your lips this time, as if he really needed to make sure you were real.

“When I started listening to your music, I recognized myself in the lyrics,” he admitted. “That’s why I approached you in the first place, and then I just…” He rested his forehead against yours, and your eyes fluttered shut. “I just needed to have you in my life. Any way whatsoever. I was stupid to stay with Yejun, because I think I already knew then that I was going to fall in love with you.”

You repeated his name, like he was a melody. And to you he was. He was your melody, the music that made your soul dance. The muse to your mind, and the song to your heart. “We all are stupid sometimes.”

He chuckled. “I’m relieved the months have led me to you after all. I’m not sure I deserve it.”

“You do.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, trying to bring him closer. “You deserve everything in this world.”

The following kiss was slow. Languid, as if he needed to trace his love into you, using his lips to build you anew. It was beauty personified, comfort revived. Everything in you went steady, and then sang to the melody he carried, the one you carried together.

When he pulled away from the kiss to look at you with his dark eyes, cheeks flushed from the ministrations, you read the desire on his features, like one would read a sheet music. Unsure at first, focusing, until the language of music took over you.

At least, that was how it worked for you.

“I want you,” you breathed in the space between you, and he nodded.

“I know.” He laughed, looking around. “You made me get in this car for that reason, didn’t you?”

You barely remembered. All you knew was that you never wanted to exit the safety of this nest, with him. Of his embrace, and of the fondness and desire in his eyes. Whatever song passion was about to have you dance to, you were ready to jump in, feet first and soul open.

“Eat me out,” you breathlessly begged, and his pink lips parted slightly.

“I’m no contortionist,” he joked, unexpectedly. “Can you move up?”

You laughed, slightly pushing him so he knelt between your legs. “You’re annoying. Yes I can.”

He offered you his secretive smile, and then his hands deftly discarded you of your coat. He took his off too, throwing both on the passenger seat. “Then what are you waiting for?”

You bit your lip, a mischievous glint igniting in your eyes. “I think you should work for it.”

At that his face went fully dark, like all the light had gone out. He looked like the devil incarnate, the fallen angel you had thought to see on the rooftop of the hotel some weeks ago.

He said your name like a warning, and it made your head cock to the side. “Aren’t you a good boy? I think I remember you liked me ordering you around last time.”

In truth, you weren’t even sure he had. Just felt like being a brat, and you had always been more on the dominant side anyway.

“As I said,” he murmured, and he bent down to ravish another kiss on your lips, “my goal is to make you feel good. I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

That was enough for you, and you quickly moved up until your back was resting against the car door. He took off your shoes, before pulling your dress pants down your legs.

“I’m already dripping,” you purred, hand reaching to palm yourself over your panties. “I think I’ve been dripping all night thinking about you.”

He chuckled. “So you’ve been thinking about fucking me all night?”

“Oh, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Just wanted to make you wait.”

He furrowed his brows. “Why?”

“Eat me out and I’ll tell you.”

He let out a sound between a groan and a moan, and then he moved back, resting one knee on the ground so he could position himself between your legs. “Fuck, baby.” He looked at your clothed cunt, and then his eyes met yours again. “You really are dripping. I don’t even have to touch you.”

You breathed out an uneven breath. “Touch me.”

It was his turn to smirk, though he still obeyed, leaning forward so he could kiss your entrance over your panties. “Like this?”

“You’re a brat,” you said.

“Maybe.”

“Fucking eat me out, Min Yoongi, before I decide not to have sex with you tonight.”

Emboldened, he said, “As if you’d step away now.”

This time, he sucked on your clit, eyes never leaving yours. The devil incarnate indeed. Though, it seemed he had teased you enough, because he pulled your panties to the side, and his tongue dove once between your folds.

“You taste so good,” he praised.

“Yeah?”

He nodded, and then he lapped at your entrance, before swirling his tongue around your clit. “Yeah.”

When his mouth closed around the sensitive nub and he sucked hard, your lips parted on a silent moan, eyes closing tightly with the pleasure that moved through you.

“You know,” he said, barely pulling away. You could feel his hot breath on your pussy, and it only made you ache for him. “This time I want you to come. I’ll make you fucking come until you can’t walk anymore.”

“Jesus, fuck, Yoongi,” you uttered, and you cracked an eye open to see him smirking devilishly between your legs. “You go all romantic on me and then you say that?”

The smirk turned into a smile, and he pressed a kiss on the inside of your thigh. “Can’t I be romantic and want to make you feel good at the same time?”

“What are you doing talking to me, then?” you asked. “Shouldn’t you be –“

He didn’t let you finish before he dove back in, and this time he dove hard. As if he wanted you to forget every word in the dictionary, every song you had ever sang. All that was left was the sounds of your pants and moans, entwined with the squelching of his fingers when they started slipping in and out of you, following the same relentless pace as his tongue.

Yoongi was too skilled with his tongue. You remembered as much from that night months ago, even though you had been drunk then. You were a little drunk today, but the alcohol had mostly worn off on the way home. So it didn’t surprise you when an orgasm bubbled on the horizon, rushing towards you faster than you had expected it to.

When Yoongi sucked hard, teeth grazing your clit, you lost it, crashing into your high like a car crashing into a wall at eighty miles per hour. You cried out, something that resembled his name, and your hands pulled at his locks, as your hips rocked forward.

He planted a firm hand on your stomach to force you to stay down as he pulled away, resting his head against your inner thigh. His gaze met yours, and he resumed the movements of his fingers.

You hadn’t noticed he had stopped in the first place.

“That felt good?” he asked.

It felt better than good. It felt like a symphony, a complete orchestra guiding you to heaven. A choir, beautiful, angelic.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “Fuck it did.”

He smirked, content, as he fingered you, slowly. “That was only the first one.”

“We’re going to have to work on you too,” you purred. “I want to see you come.”

Your words shut him up, as he inhaled sharply, lust burning so bright in his pupils you thought he might combust in front of you. Yet, he pressed into that sweet spot inside of you, arching his fingers so he could play with it until you were seeing stars again.

You stopped him before he could make you come. Mostly because, when you squirted, you were done for after. You weren’t ready to be done tonight.

“Let’s go up to your condo,” you suggested as he threw you a questioning glance. “As much as fucking in a car’s hot, I’d prefer the comfort of your bed.”

“Your wish is my command,” he agreed, and he sucked a hickey on your inner thigh before pulling his fingers out of you. He put your panties back in place gently, and his eyes fell to his fingers. You both watched as he spread them, strings of your juice connecting the digits still. “Fuck, look at this.”

“That’s all because of you,” you praised. “A good fucking boy.”

He chuckled, wetting his lips. “Always, for you.”

He licked at his fingers, as if to clean them, before he seemed to consider something else. When he brought them closer to your mouth, you huffed a moan before wrapping your lips around the digits, sucking as your tongue cleaned them. His breathing turned a little ragged, and he looked as if he was seconds away from fucking you right then and there when you pulled away with a satisfying pop.

“Everything okay?” you asked, teasingly.

“The elevator ride is going to be so long,” he muttered, and you let out a laugh as you pulled your pants up your legs.

He handed you your shoes, and you quickly put them back on as he got out of the car, grabbing the coats on the passenger seat. It took you a few seconds, but soon enough, you were out too, ready to go up.

Yoongi wasn’t wrong. Just waiting for the elevator took forever, and when you were encased in it, you both exchanged a look so full of longing you jumped on him, grabbing his collar so you could pull him into a heated kiss. He pushed you against the wall, sucking on your bottom lip as the elevator moved up, ever so slowly.

It felt like time was stretching, turning to infinity, and he was sucking a hickey on your neck by the time the elevator came to a halt, doors sliding open on his level.

You walked out, hot and bothered, making your way to his door. He dialed the code in, pushed the door open, and as soon as it was closed, he was on you again, pressing you against the door. He must have dropped the coats on the floor, because his hands held your cheeks as he kissed you stupid, toying with your mouth with that wicked tongue of his.

“Yoongi,” you moaned in his mouth, and he pulled away to rest his forehead against yours.

You both breathed raggedly for a few seconds, and then he grabbed your hand, moving it to where his dick pressed against his pants.

“You got me so fucking horny,” he said, and he chuckled, low sound that reverberated through every inch of you. “I’m so fucking hard and you haven’t even touched me yet.”

“Should I suck your dick?” you asked. “I feel like you’d be coming down my throat in no time.”

He moaned as you palmed it harder, and he grinded his hips, seeking friction. “Whatever you want, baby.”

“Whatever?” you asked, and you let out a small dangerous laugh. “So if I ask you to fuck my ass you would.”

It wasn’t that you wanted that. You just knew he was wrapped around your finger, ready to obey your every command. The way his dick twitched under your hand told you so, and he let out a breathy sound.

“You like that?” he asked.

You captured his lips in a kiss, and once you pulled away, you said, “It could be fun. But I’d rather have you fuck my pussy tonight.”

He nodded against you, before straightening. His gaze drank you in for a few seconds, and you admired his swollen lips. They looked even prettier like this, especially knowing that you were the cause of it. That your ministrations made him look like this, like he was minutes away from losing it.

You were going to make sure he did. But first, you wanted to make your way to his room. Because as much as you wanted him, you weren’t an animal. You could wait a moment longer.

“Let’s go to your room,” you told him. “Then you can fuck me.”

“Alright,” he said, and he added your name like a sinful melody. “You think you can come around my dick?”

“Fill me up and we’ll see.”

He let out a small whiny moan, and then you pushed him away so you could take off your shoes. He kicked his off too, a little awkwardly, and a moment later you were following him up the stairs, both of you ignoring the barking of his dog.

Yoongi had taken to caging Holly in the kitchen, mostly because he didn’t want the little dog to pee on the carpet of the living room once more. You both ignored the dog, and you would have felt a little guilty had he not thrown you a lustful look over his shoulder.

“I’ll fill you up just fine, if that’s what you want,” he said, in response to what you had said earlier. “I’ll fill you up and watch you drip with my cum after.”

Your mouth fell open, mostly because you were surprised at his crude words.

“You know, I thought you’re more of a sub,” you admitted, and you chuckled. “Seems getting you horny makes you a brat too, uh?”

“Seems you make me a brat,” he replied, and he chuckled too, slightly shaking his head. “I am more of a sub though. Hence why I’ll do whatever the fuck you want.”

You reached his room, and you cocked your head to the side as he paused in the doorway, turning to look at him.

“Take off your clothes.”

If he was surprised by your command, he didn’t let it show. He instead obeyed, slowly unbuttoning the pale nude colored dress shirt he was wearing.

Some Valentino dress shirt he had worn in Paris, that you had told him you loved too much for him not to wear again. He had taken to wearing it more often than not, especially when it was just the two of you.

The shirt fell softly to the ground, slowly. It puddled at his feet, and he cocked his head to the side as your eyes roamed his figure. Barely stopping on the scars on his shoulder, scars you promised yourself you’d kiss later, when the sins had come to completion.

He took his time to rid himself of his pants, his eyes never leaving yours. They burned with desire, so much so that you thought you had caught fire. You weren’t sure you were hearing an angelic choir anymore – you rather thought you had descended straight to Hell, and you were more than okay with it.

The pants fell at his ankles, and he stepped out, blinking once. “Should I take this off too?” he asked, thumbs hooking in his underwear.

“That and the socks,” you said, nodding your head.

He bit his lip, wet it, and then the boxers joined the rest of his clothes on the floor. He bent down, took off the socks, and then he was standing again, in his full naked glory, hard dick standing proud against his stomach. You took a step closer, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, and you pressed a kiss on his jaw.

“Were you good enough for me to suck you a little?” you asked. You nipped at the skin of his neck, and he let out a soft moan. “I’ll suck you if you promise you won’t come.”

He laughed, and he sounded a little scared, but infinitely turned on. “I’ll try.”

You held his dick tighter. “You’re going to have to do better than try.”

He didn’t reply, just surveyed you with his dark lustful eyes, as you dropped to your knees. As if he needed all his focus on not coming, even as he drank in the sight of you on your knees for him. Already licking your lips, remembering just how good he tasted then.

He tasted just as good today. Maybe even a little more, because he was yours, and that had to account for something. He tasted like ambrosia, like the wine of the gods. His dick was rock hard in your mouth, and his eyes shut as soon as you started working on him.

Probably because, if he was to look at you for a moment longer, he was going to come. He really was wrapped around your fingers again, and so you offered the best you had to offer. And when his breathing turned so ragged you were pretty sure he was about to lose his fight against his orgasm, you pulled away.

It looked like it pained him, but when you got up and captured his lips in yet another languid kiss, he kissed you back with a fervor you almost weren’t expecting. It made your head spin, until you were a moaning mess.

Or maybe that was because he had sunk two fingers inside of you again, sliding his hand in your pants, and he was fucking you like that.

“You’re so,” he started, and he hissed as you bit at his neck, “so wet. I’m going to slide right in.”

You rested your head against his shoulder as his fingers kept fucking you, so quickly your legs started trembling. You grabbed his wrist, trying to slow him down, but if there was a thing about Min Yoongi that you were now realizing, it was that he was just as skilled with his fingers than with his mouth.

“Fuck,” you hissed against his shoulder. “Stop, I want you to fuck me.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss on your temple, and his digits left you empty. He teased your clit for a moment, and your teeth sunk in his skin in retaliation. He cursed under his breath, but he finally slid his hand out of your pants, bringing it up to his mouth to clean himself.

You didn’t move as he did so, mostly because your legs still felt infinitely weak. You only moved when he grabbed your shoulders gently, pushing you away just enough for you to meet his gaze.

“You want me to fuck you?” he teased, and you clenched your jaw.

As you loosened it, your tongue poked at your cheek and your eyes turned dark. Lustful, sinful. Vengeful. “I didn’t tell you you could finger me like this, did I?”

He leaned closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “You seemed to enjoy it.”

You grabbed his balls, squeezing lightly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to have him tense next to you. “Oh, I enjoyed plenty. Now, why don’t you get the clothes off of me?”

He smirked, nodding against you, and then he pulled away. His large skilled hands quickly rid you of your clothing, and soon enough you were standing naked next to him.

“Should I fuck you now?” he asked, with that same bratty attitude he was just now getting.

“Bed,” you ordered. “I’ll fuck myself on you.”

“You want to use me?”

You captured his lips in a kiss, sucking on his tongue when it slid in your mouth. “I will use you.”

At that he gulped, but it was enough to convince him to obey. He finally moved towards the bed, laying down on the pillowy softness of his mattress, hands propped behind his head. He surveyed you carefully as you stalked closer, though you aimed for his night table first.

“Is that where you keep your condoms?” you asked.

He seemed scared for a time, sitting up quickly with a widened gaze. “Let me get that for you.”

You paused, hand on the knob of the drawer. “Got something to hide?”

He gulped, seemingly searching for words. His tongue darted on his pink lips, and then he let out a nervous chuckle. “Not really.”

“Okay?” you said, cocking your head to the side. “So I can open this?”

He breathed in, holding his breath as he nodded.

It wasn’t anything embarrassing, if you were honest. All you found in the drawer were condoms, lube and a pair of handcuffs. At least that was what you thought at first glance. You met his gaze, grabbing the handcuffs. Though your fingers grazed something else, and you shot a confused look to the drawer.

That was when you noticed the black anal plug. Your lips parted, and your gaze met Yoongi’s once more.

“So you do like anal play, do you?” you breathed out.

He looked away from you, though a smirk played on his lips. With that deep, scratchy voice of his, he said, “Can’t say that I don’t.”

You let go of the handcuffs, grabbing the anal plug instead. “You use that on yourself?” you asked, raising it in the space between you.

“Both me and my partners,” he replied truthfully.

You grabbed the lube, and then made your way to the bed. “I’ve never had an anal plug in before,” you admitted. “Now you’ve got my curiosity piqued.”

He laughed, and it wasn’t horny or anything of the sorts. Just sweet. “You want to try?”

The dominant side of you wanted you to say you’d rather put it in him, but there was something about the unknown that made your breath hitch in your throat. Because you did want to know.

You put the plug and lube on the bed, before sitting next to him. He put a large hand on your thigh, running it up and down leaving goosebumps behind. He was looking at you expectantly, and you bit your lip, finally nodding your head yes.

“I’d love to try.”

He leaned closer, pecking your lips once in a familiar gesture before motioning to his bed. “I’d recommend getting on all fours. Face-first in the pillows.”

“What makes you think you can order me around, mmh?” you purred.

His hand gently cupped your neck, skilled fingers immediately finding the arteries. He didn’t choke you right away, instead forcing you to tilt your head back. He sucked a hickey on your jaw, and you hissed, trying to move away, but he was firmly holding you into place.

“The fact you want me to use my toys on you, maybe?”

The fucking brat.

You rarely were silenced, when it came to sex, but it seemed Yoongi had found how to render you mute.

He smirked, and then he choked you, mouth finding yours in yet another hot, languid kiss that left your mind spinning. Or maybe that was the absence of a blood flow to your head. All you could do was reach between you, aiming blindly for his dick. He was rock hard, and you jerked him off slowly, mostly because you were too focused on the kiss. On every swipe of his tongue, on every grunt he emitted.

When he pulled away, fingers finally letting go of your neck, you breathed in shakily.

“I guess I’ll get on all fours then,” you said.

It must have sounded funny, because Yoongi laughed, pecking your forehead. “Only if you’re comfortable.”

Your tongue poked the inside of your cheek once more, and you slightly shook your head. “You really are going to be the death of me.”

“Just trying to make you feel good,” he said, face falling fully serious. Serious and dark, like he was about to ruin you. And you liked the switch in dynamics, even though you had always been more of a dom yourself.

You positioned yourself, ass up and face down in the pillows. Yoongi kneeled behind you, and you heard more than you saw when he uncapped the lube bottle. You startled a little when the first drop of cold liquid hit your asshole, but when Yoongi started rubbing it around, your eyes shut and you focused on the feeling.

Though new and foreign, it was a pleasurable feeling, one that made your pussy clench around nothing. Especially as Yoongi pushed against the tight ring of muscle, dipping his thumb inside.

“You think your virgin ass can take it?” he asked.

He moved his thumb out, then in again, slowly. You gulped, eyes still tightly squeezed shut. “I can take it for you.”

He remained silent, and you cracked an eye open to look at him. His cheeks and his upper chest were flushed red, and his gaze dripped with lust for you. You wanted to swim in the lust, to drown in it. No matter what it took.

His thumb slid out, replaced by a finger. A second later, another finger joined, and you let out a breathy sound. Gazes still connected, your mind zeroed in on him fingering your ass, slowly. When he figured you were ready enough, which he probably understood by the breathy sounds and moans falling from your mouth, Yoongi’s digits left you empty. They were soon replaced by the plug that he lightly pressed against the ring of muscle, never pushing in.

“It’s likely to hurt,” he warned you. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“You’d rather me put it in your ass?” you said through gritted teeth.

He bent down, pressing a kiss on your cheek before he straightened again. “I’ve done it countless times before, I’m a lot more used to it than you.”

“Just put it in, Yoongi,” you said, voice low.

He smirked, and when he started pushing in, you clenched your hands in fists, grabbing at the comforter of his bed. He was right – it hurt. But you wanted to show him you could take it, wanted to prove you could, and so you kept the pained whimper in. Kept your gaze connected to his, trying to keep your face neutral too.

It took a moment, and Yoongi had to pull it out a couple of times before he actually managed to get it all the way in, but a few minutes later, the anal plug was fully embedded into you, making you feel full in a whole new way.

“How’s that feel?” he asked, large hands gently caressing your ass.

“Full,” you replied.

He laughed. “I haven’t even started fucking you yet.”

The thought that he was going to fuck you, while you were impaled by his anal plug… it had a moan bubble in your throat, unexpectedly. “Fuck, Yoongi.”

“Should I handcuff you too?”

Now, you needed to regain control. So you straightened, turning towards him. “I’ll cuff you. Lie down.”

He seemed surprised by the new switch in dynamics, but he still complied, lying down on his back as you fished the handcuffs out of his night table. You also grabbed a condom, and then you moved back to his side.

The key to the handcuffs currently was in the lock, and you took it out, eyeing it pensively. “Should I hide this?” you asked, gaze darting to Yoongi.

He gulped, turning his head to the side to regard you. His hair fell on his forehead, and you put the condom down so you could brush it away.

“Just put it on the night table, we don’t want to lose it.”

You tutted, but you still did as told, knowing that it would be a stupid thing to throw it somewhere in the room. You then gently grabbed one of Yoongi’s wrists, cuffing it. As you pulled his arm over his head, he himself brought his other wrist to you, and you imprisoned it too. You made sure it wasn’t too tight, before sitting back on your heels. It made the anal plug move inside of you, and you let out an unexpected moan.

His eyes widened at the sound, and you leaned down to steal a kiss on his lips.

“Now,” you said once you straightened. “Let me put this on.”

You grabbed the foil package, tearing it open to fish the condom out of it. Yoongi was still watching you carefully, awaiting your next move. You grabbed the base of his cock, before lazily stroking it. He gulped, lips parting slightly.

“You think you’re ready?”

He chuckled, glancing down to his dick. “Pretty sure I am.”

You smirked, cocking your head to the side, though you were done being a tease. You wanted to feel him, to have him inside of you. So you rolled the condom on with an expert hand before climbing on his lap. Your hands landed on his chest, and you gently ran them down, along his ribs, and then back up to settle around his neck.

His pretty eyes just watched, and suddenly warmth bubbled inside of you. Not arousal, but really the kind of warmth only looking at a lover can bring out of someone. You stilled, meeting his gaze, and you wondered if he could see the adoration filling your eyes.

He must have, because he said, “I am going to fall so hard for you.”

You bent down, and it was with lips connected that Yoongi pushed inside of you, slowly. It hurt, stretched and burned, with the anal plug, so he was gentle. He was soft, and when he was fully embedded in you, you pulled away. Just enough to meet his gaze, and see the passion lighting up the depths of his pupils.

“Gosh, Yoongi,” you breathed.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Feelings swelled in your chest. Like wind catching in the sails of a boat, until you felt yourself rushing forward. Towards him, finally meeting him. Finally finding the comfort that was meant to be yours. You kissed him again then, slowly, languidly. Passionately, tracing a melody of love and desire on his lips. One he reciprocated, and his cuffed hands moved until his arms were wrapped around you, trapping you into place.

He slowly fucked up into you, lips never faltering against your mouth. He swallowed every little breathy sounds you let out, grunted on your lips until it seemed passion gained over love, and his pace increased. It increased until he was pounding into you, and it was his turn to grunt and moan against your lips.

You hid your face in the crook of his neck, and he held you tighter, closer, crushing all of you against him. When his movements grew sloppy, you tried to pull away, but his cuffed hands kept you into place.

He chuckled, sucking on your shoulder. “You’re stuck here, baby.”

“I just want to fuck myself on you,” you whined.

He sighed. “I like having you close.”

The way he said it made you bite at his neck. “I want you to fucking come, Yoongi. I want to look you in the eye while you come.”

He moaned, and to your surprise he let you go, hands going back over his head. You straightened, eyes finding his, and his ragged breathing told you enough – he was going to come in no time. So you started moving, up and down, one hand massaging your breast while the other settled on his neck again.

“Faster,” he begged, eyes fluttering shut.

“Look at me,” you commanded.

He hissed, though his gaze found yours. He looked desperate, under you like this, and you smirked, tilting your head to the side. You still started going faster, and soon enough your second hand settled on his shoulder to give you better leverage.

Yoongi was close. You could tell he was struggling to keep his eyes open, mind swimming in ecstasy as his high neared the horizon. You wondered how long he’d fight it – how long he’d keep his sinful gaze on you, just wanting to please you.

He moaned, loud, jaw going slack. Still, you didn’t feel the telltale twitch of his dick inside of you, telling you that he had yet to lose it. So you started choking him, moaning his name when his hips started moving up, meeting yours halfway. The sound of skin slapping on skin became louder, and a second later he cursed, loud and clear. His hands flew towards you, and you grabbed at the chain linking his two wrists, picking up the pace as he released inside of you.

Something about the twitch of his dick had you racing towards another orgasm, and you clenched around him. He probably figured what it meant, because he forced you to lean down, wrapping his cuffed hands around you. Holding you close, he fucked into you, rough. The feeling, combined with the anal plug, had you soaring up to the sky, and you came blindly, vision turning fully white.

He milked your orgasm, as it kept going on and on. You were a moaning mess, and his grunts entwined with your sounds until all that was left was you and him, breathing raggedly. You rested your forehead against his, and he kept you close as you came down from the high that sex with him consisted of.

He pulled out of you when your heart had finally calmed down in your chest, and you pulled away just enough to be able to look him in the eye, his cuffed hands keeping you from moving too far.

“Holy shit,” you said, and he laughed, softly.

“Yeah.” He pulled you down to press a kiss on your lips, before moving his hands over his head once more. “That was amazing.”

“Why did we wait?” you asked.

He laughed again. “I would wait for you for eternity.”

“You’re so cheesy, Min Yoongi,” you teased him, and you bent to peck his nose.

He smiled softly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m just happy.”

“Your happiness is a beautiful sight to see.”

There was a silence, of you gazing at each other. And you thought, you thought if the loneliness was meant to lead to this moment, right now, you’d do it all over again.

Because happiness, it really was a beautiful sight to see.

*****

You watched Yoongi carefully, as he read the lyrics of your song. You had finally managed to finish it, a month into the new year. It led somewhere else than you had first wanted it to, but you thought it was fitting.

You could only hope that he agreed with you.

You blinked as time stretched, with him just reading. You followed his eyes as they skimmed the paper, going back to some line once in a while. You didn’t know if it was because of disapproval, or because he liked your turn of phrase. It was hard to tell, because professional Yoongi was sitting across from you.

Professional Yoongi didn’t let his emotions show on his face.

Holly barked somewhere on your left, startling you. While Yoongi read, you went to the dog, petting it with clammy hands. Because the silence meant nothing good, right? He probably didn’t like the song.

Anxiety was starting to make you spiral when Yoongi said, “Wow.”

Relief flooded through you as you glanced at him. “What do you think?”

“Is this… it’s about us.”

You nibbled at your lower lip. “It is.”

He murmured your name, right as you straightened to walk back to where he was sitting, on the couch. You sat next to him, holding his gaze.

“Never thought I’d be someone’s muse someday.”

You threw him a no-bullshit look. “You are the muse of a lot of people, Yoongi.”

He smirked wickedly. “Am I?”

You said nothing, because really there was nothing to say. He just smiled, that gummy smile of his, and your heart swelled with fondness.

“You’re going to release this?” he asked.

You wet your lips, nodding your head. “I have an idea for a melody, but I thought you… maybe you could help?”

His eyes sparkled. “I have something that could work.”

He grabbed your hand, jumping to his feet to pull you behind him, towards his studio. Halfway up the stairs, you tugged on his hand, trying to gain his attention.

“What?” he asked softly.

“I want to release it with the song.”

He stopped walking, and you almost bumped into him.

“The song song?”

You nodded. “I was thinking of an EP? I have two other songs I used to play when I went busking that I never recorded. I thought, why not record and release everything together?”

His face split into a smile once again, and he pulled you in his chest. You almost fell, and it made the both of you laugh, until you finally started walking up the stairs again.

“It’s a good idea,” he said. “It’s going to be perfect.”

You rolled your eyes, because you doubted that it’d be perfect, but with Yoongi helping you, you knew it’d be good. And good was enough for you. Good was smiles and warmth and the flush of his cheeks whenever you complimented him.

Min Yoongi was good, in all the ways that mattered. He was good to you, and good to the world around him. He was good at what he did, producing a melody for you that resonated with your soul, with the lyrics you had put down on the paper. Lyrics that came back to your mind, as you watched him working on his computer, a focused look on his features.

In the land where no one knows my name

I seek a path that leads to dreams

Bright lights and Heaven’s door

I knock and scream at them, open

In a world where no one knows my name

I can almost hear Heaven’s choirs

You’d think they’d ring true and high

But I think they’re the devil in disguise

They push me out and in the mud

I beg on my knees, they don’t hear me

In the land where no one knows my name

I’m the scraps that you’ve thrown away

They say one day I’ll understand

But I’ll be the one to make the rules now ay

It starts out slowly

Your light and darkness, everything

Success comes and goes, and I

If I make the rules, then I’ll make them bleed

Haters, they think they know

But ignorance is their song

They had me on my knees

Now I watch them beg, scream

I’ll never fucking care for them

In the land where no one knew my name

Now I look down to the world

And I think they live in hell

In the land where no one knew my name

I was no one, I was scraps and mud

The mud’s taken shape now

It screams of your name, more than mine

I was thrown to hell, burned eternity

But I made the rules, right?

If hell is for the lonely people

Then I think we’ve found each other

They brought me down when they could ay

Now I stand tall and proud

Who cares about Heaven, about the choirs

When you stand next to me

They thought they could bring me down

I laugh and say, “Watch them try”

But can they, when I’ve got you

We made the rules and now we reign

Over this hell of lonely people

And heavy is the crown, yeah

But light is the heart,

With you, a thousand eternities

Won’t be enough to bring us down

In the land where no one knew my name

Still you knew it

And isn’t that all that matters?

In the hours of darkness

Down in the mud

You said my name and I looked up

If hell is a lonely place

Then maybe you’re my heaven

And maybe, maybe you had always been meant to love Min Yoongi. Reigning over your little world, with him.

That night, you laid in bed entwined with him, listening to his deep breathing as he slept the night away. Silver light from the moon outside lit up his features, and you took a moment to admire him. To admire his softness, and the flutter of his eyelids whenever he moved in his sleep.

He looked like a prince, regal, eternal, lying next to you like this. His steady breathing was comfort, and his beauty was awe. It was unbelievable that he was yours, that he was to be by your side from now on and until the end.

Loneliness was a distant song, when Min Yoongi was next to you. And you knew he wasn’t to go, not anymore. Because, no matter how unbelievable it was, Yoongi was truly meant to reign over the world, with you.

So now you’d reign.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Woooow I hope we enjoyed this! I was really excited to post this after The Forgotten Spaces. What did we think?

Taglist:

@chimchimmarie | @pamzn

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pennyellee · 12 days

Text

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings (preview only): minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, incision wound, blood, suicide attempt, strong language, mentions of God, ...

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 583

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

author's note: well, yall, life is getting in my way, it's certainly keeping me from finishing this chapter, but it shouldn't be that long before I actually do. I wanted to drop a little preview before the sacred day I was born, which is tomorrow, 1-2-3 birthday depression. Enjoy the preview and stay tuned for the chapter. I'll be also answering some asks tomorrow, yes, i see them, and i love you all so so so so much, I just have very little of free time lately. See ya soon! lots of love, p. 𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡🫧

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VII CHAPTER VIII

Time seemed to slow as Yoongi lunged forward, reaching out to stop her, but it was too late. The blade sliced through her skin, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as pain seared through her, her vision swimming with darkness. She felt Yoongi’s hands on her, his panicked voice calling out to her, but it was distant as if coming from a faraway place.

“Seokjin?!!” he shouted, his voice raw with desperation.

He cradled her in his arms, his hands trembling as he pressed against the wound, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood.

The sound of loud footsteps echoed in the corridor as others rushed forward to reach the doctor, their expressions a mix of horror and disbelief. But amidst the chaos, Y/N’s empty gaze remained fixed on Yoongi, her eyes still burning with flames.

“Stay with me, baby. Don’t leave me please.” Yoongi whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. He pressed his lips to her forehead, willing her to hold on, to fight for her life.

But as he looked down at her pale, lifeless face, he knew that the road ahead would be long and fraught with challenges. For now, all he could do was pray that she would survive, that she would find the strength to forgive him and that they would someday find their way back to each other.

“Please don’t take her away from me, my Lord.”

Yoongi prayed that it was not too late to save her from the darkness that threatened to consume them both.

One thing remained clear in Yoongi’s mind: he would do whatever it took to save her, to make amends for the pain he had caused, and to prove to her that his love was worth fighting for.

Yoongi’s voice cut through the turmoil, his words a desperate plea for forgiveness. He begged for her to forgive him, to give him another chance to make things right. No more secrets, no more lies. No more pain. He was willing to rebuild their relationship from the ground up, on a foundation of honesty and trust.

The metallic scent of blood mingled with the tang of fear, thickening the air with a palpable sense of impending doom. He ripped one of his sleeves a while ago, pressing the roughly crimpled fabric to the wound, praying that Seokjin was near. Or did anyone hear him scream frantically enough to relay the message?

“You can’t leave me, baby, please. I promise we’ll work everything through.”

He kissed and caressed her hair with his free hand which was covered with her blood. Tears blurred his vision as his hand trembled at the sight. A blood he never wished to shed.

“Please, Y/N, you have to forgive me.” The weight of his actions pressed down on him like a leaden blanket, suffocating him with the weight of his mistakes.

“Fucking goddammit Yoongi!”

—

Y/N set the plates on the table, pouring the hot water into a kettle of green tea as he joined her at the table. They exchanged smiles, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the kitchen and the windows providing a magnificent view of the sea.

“I’ve been thinking,-” she said with a smile on her face while she set the seaweed salad down in front of him. He hummed in response, reading today’s paper.

“About opening my practice.” He nodded, sipping his tea thoughtfully.

“Thought you wanted to wait until the babe arrives?”

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

PS: accounts highlighted in pink cannot be tagged, so if you want to be in the tag list, please make sure you have it allowed in your settings. 𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

tag list: @beautifulcloudfestival - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyyyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss - @secfir - @btspurplesky - @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin - @selenophileforlife - @idkjustlovingbts @seonghwaexile

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shina913 · 1 year

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Stalemate (Mini-series) | MYG

Stalemate (Mini-series)

Definition: (1) Chess. a position of the pieces in which a player cannot move any piece except the king and cannot move the king without putting it in check. (2) any position or situation in which no action can be taken or progress made; deadlock

Pairing: Woodworker!Yoongi x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: breakup!AU; toxic relationships; angst; fluff; smut; heavy drama

Total word count: 16,983 words

Status: Completed ✅

Warnings (more written in individual chapters): problematic exes; relationship insecurities; alcohol consumption; cussing; miscommunication; past infidelity (reader had an affair with a married man but not detailed); protected sex; oral sex (F-receiving); heavy drama; verbal arguments and confrontation

Summary: "The truth is, I'm not afraid to take that gamble anymore...in the off-chance that I get lucky again and feel the way I felt when I was with you. I'd happily make that bet over and over."

❗️PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE DIVING IN: This series is a 2-parter and is a nonlinear narrative. I go back and forth on the timeline of this story--which hopefully, I've clearly marked with the "Now" and "Then" headers.

This story is also a rendition of a Filipino movie called, "Exes Baggage." If you know it, I hope I've done the story some justice 🤗

On that note, comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩–Don’t be shy!

❗️Please DNI if you’re a minor.

Part 1 | Part 2 (conclusion)

#bts fan fiction #yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #btshoneyhive #btscarnivalnet #thekpopuniverse #heartbrokensocietycollab #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts angst #bts min yoongi #bts yoongi #myg angst #myg smut #stalemate x myg

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xpeachesncream · 2 years

Text

sticks & stones (myg) | one shot

part of the titillating touches collab

♢ genre: (18+) friends to lovers, ex-fwb, mutual pining, massage au | fluff, sprinkle of angst, smut

♢ summary: surprise! you're gifted a free massage at the nearby massage parlor called "Blissful Hands." you've heard about the parlour about once or twice, never thought about stepping foot inside to take advantage of their services. thinking you could use the massage to relax, rid yourself of any stress and built up tension, you walk into the parlor excited for your first massage opportunity. however, when you realize your masseur is no other than Min Yoongi himself, all excitement flies out the window. never did you think you'd reunite with your biggest crush in college, the one that got away. they say sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you— but in this case, you find out that words have actually ruined a lot for you and Yoongi. and stones.. well, they'll do a lot to ease that instead.

♢ pairing: reader x masseur!myg

♢ words: 18.4k

♢ warnings: i did as much research as possible on hot stone massages pls forgive me, mature language/cussing, sexually implied content, sprinkle of angst??, miscommunication, rumors and assumptions, unspoken feelings, awkward reunion lol yoongi isnt really having it at first, oc shoulda tried harder tho oof, he does have a soft spot for oc, drinking/intoxication, flashback scenes, use of pet names like baby and princess, cuddles, after care, making out, unprotected sex, missionary, multiple orgasms, use of oil and hot stones in foreplay, fingering, clit play, slight marking, sprinkle of spit play, breast play, smut on the massage table ://, pulling out, grinding, edited but unedited lolol sorry if i missed anything!

♢ note: thank you so, so much to @ressjeon for thinking of me and for inviting me to be a part of this collab! i had tons of fun writing this <33 also, big shoutout again to @ilikemesometaetaes & @jimilter for this beautiful ass banner! please check out the other works part of this collab, they’re all amazing and won’t disappoint!

—i also wanted to let you all know i’ll be continuing my break and i won’t be as active on here for awhile. i need a moment to rest since i’ve been feeling pretty down and unmotivated lately. just gotta take a moment to shake off this funk. but, i’ll be writing behind the scenes from time to time in between pulling my personal stuff together. 💞

♢ support me!

It's that time of the year again.

It's that time of the year again where your loved ones sweetly greet you, your coworkers shove plans and alcohol in your face because you aren't getting any younger— Immediate family reminding you where you need to be at this point in your life.

Married, with kids, doing some other job that brings in more money.

You know what it is.

No harm, they say. Just a reminder. It's your birthday for fucks sake, and they wanna give you a reminder?

Anywho, you park your car after a long day of work, just now hanging up the phone after your mom and dad had called to greet you [aka bringing up said reminder mentioned above] in the most loving way they can. You know they come from a good place, and you know that they support you either way, so you can't help but give off a tiny sigh and respond with a cute little 'yes, I know but thank you, I love you' in the end. You grabbed your purse and headed up the steps to your apartment, grabbing the mail on the way up without giving it another look as you set it near your keys at the entrance way. You immediately slip out of your heels first, then make your way into the kitchen to wash your tupperware from lunch.

It'll be a quiet birthday, and that's okay with you.

That's how you've always preferred it, anyway. Quiet, lowkey, no surprises—

"Surprise, bitch!" You pick up the call from your bestfriend, slightly bringing the phone away from your ear when you hear her scream on the other end. "Happy birthday to the love of my life and the only person I can stand! Did you open your mail yet? What are you up to today? Who is getting some of that tonight—"

"Hold on just a minute, Rissa." You nervously chuckle. "Thank you, and I love you, but one question at a time, please?" You tuck the phone against your ear with your shoulder as you put your dishes away.

"I'm sorry." She giggles. "You know I love you. I'm just sad I can't be there with you since they have me on this work trip for the month."

"It's okay." You crack a tiny smile. "How is it?"

"It's fine, same old." She sighs. "But this isn't about me, birthday girl. What are your plans?"

"You already know me." You laugh. "Keep it lowkey. Order some good, comforting takeout and pair it with red wine." You plop on the couch and put her on speaker so you can start your next 15 or so minutes just looking for food that you'll end up doordashing over.

"Mkay, really?"

"I don't know why you're so surprised."

"Guess you didn't open your mail."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" You look towards your entrance way at the stack of envelopes.

"Can you just go and open your mail? I made sure that would get sent with priority." She laughs as you chuckle and shake your head, meandering over to the envelopes you wanted to ignore for the evening at the very least. Well, for the most part, the majority of the envelopes get flipped through and tossed to the back, especially if you already knew none of them necessarily had an urgent deadline.

Alas, you come to Rissa's envelope. Soft pink in color with 'Y/N Y/L/N' in big, bold, black Sharpie on the front— a little drawn heart attached to the end of it.

You take your finger and gently rip the envelope open, revealing a card with a piece of paper in it. You read the sweet message written by your bestfriend before pulling out the paper to read what it consists of:

One free 60 min. massage at Blissful Hands - Applies to all massage types. Redeem Now!

No expiration date.

"A free massage?" You think out loud and Rissa laughs.

"Girl, you need to relax, okay? You're always working so damn hard, you never give yourself a break. I know I had mentioned the parlor before, but I just haven't had the time to take you. I want you to go and treat yourself as my birthday present." She pauses briefly before going on again. "And don't give me that 'with what time' bullshit cause I'm gonna be on your ass until you step foot in that establishment. Trust me. I'll be annoying, you don't want that." You laugh.

"Thank you, Rissa. I love it, seriously. Maybe I could use a day to just do this and nothing else." You flip the coupon in your hand.

"Maybe, yeah." She says sarcastically. "If you aren't gonna use that unlimited PTO benefit, then let me at it."

"You're right." You shake your head. "Fine, I'll go."

"Like, tomorrow."

"No, not tomorrow."

"Before next week, though."

"Yes, damn." You laugh a little louder. "Jeez, you weren't kidding when you said you'd be on my ass."

"No, I wasn't. Besides, I spent the money so that you could have this day be all about self-care."

"Thank you." You repeat. "I love you. And I miss you dearly."

"I miss you, too. I'll be home soon and I'll make sure my first stop is your place."

"Sounds like a plan." You say softly, genuinely missing the company of your bestfriend. "I just hope you're enjoying yourself down there in between work."

"Oh girl, you know I am. Don't you even worry." She chuckles. "Seriously though, take that coupon into the parlor this week, you hear me?"

"I will."

"Mmkay. I'll let you get back to your lowkey birthday celebration. Love you to bits and pieces." She says in a sing-song tone. "By the way, there's more gifts coming your way, they're just delayed."

"What!?"

"Byeeeee!" She laughs and abruptly ends the call. You look at the phone in disbelief before slowly setting it down onto your coffee table. You pick up the coupon and look at it again, suddenly getting the urge to look through your work calendar to see which day you could call off.

No meetings, no agenda, nothing.

Just you, yourself and this massage parlor.

"Why not?" You mutter to yourself as you place the coupon back down and start looking through the rest of the week on your calendar.

You actually don't get the chance to go until closer to the end of the week— a Thursday that most people decide that they want to cancel group meetings or work remotely to focus on other urgent projects. You don't complain though, hell, you quickly put in your time off and don't look back.

That Thursday comes just as quickly as you submitted the time off request, the sun beaming straight into your room and warming your sheets through the sheer blinds. You stretch a bit, arms poking out from underneath the covers as you yawn and try to completely wake yourself up. You figured starting your day at the massage parlor could be good, maybe it'll just get you started on the right foot, maybe it'll get you to do other spontaneous, productive things that you should've done on your actual birthday. Who knows? You were just excited to have the day to yourself with no other obligations and people, emails, deadlines— whatever fucking else comes with corporate— to worry about. You get yourself washed up and ready for the day, throwing on a simple, all black biker shorts and sports bra set. You grab a hoodie in case the day is actually colder than expected, throw on some socks, tie up your sneakers and head out the door.

The establishment isn't too far, and it's nice that it's pretty convenient. You and Rissa both had incredibly busy schedules, it was almost impossible to think about a massage during a normal week at work. If it wasn't for your birthday and for her gift, you aren't entirely sure you'd ever step foot here to take advantage of their services [knowing damn well you could use it, too]. The added bonus now is the convenience and how close it is to other establishments you frequent.

Maybe you might be back after a taste.

When you walk in, it's peaceful, serene, as you expected; soft music played in the background. A lady stood near the front desk, walking the receptionist through something— you weren't entirely sure. They finally turned their attention towards you, the lady standing coming towards you with a smile on her face.

"Hey, welcome in to Blissful Hands!" She smiles. "I'm Yannie."

"Y/N." You give her a small, toothless smile as you tug on the strap of your bag. "I, um—" You flash her the coupon after pulling it out from your jacket pocket. "I have this coupon I wanted to redeem."

"Oh, fantastic! You came at a perfect time, we have lots of availability right now." She grabs some paperwork from behind the desk and walks back over to you as you sit on the clean sofa. "I'll go through these in a bit. But, I wanted to ask. Did you already have a particular type of massage in mind? If not, I can grab a pamphlet and we can go through any questions you might have in regards to our services."

"Hm. Do you guys offer hot stone massages?" Is the first that pops into your mind. It had always been something you wanted to try, especially seeing the ads and the promos at the hotels during work trips and conferences. Plus, you've heard about its benefits through word of mouth. If they were able to offer that here, why not get yourself a free hot stone massage? It might turn out to be exactly what you need.

"We sure do." She chuckles and sits next to you. "Why hot stone, if I may ask?"

"Well, besides the usual response of lowering stress, I just feel like my body is pretty.. tense? Lots of muscle tension, soreness, fatigue. I run a lot, try to get some boxing and pole dancing in. No matter how many times I go, I still feel like it's my first time." You chuckle nervously, afraid you've spilled way too much information than necessary. She didn't even ask. "Sorry, just felt like I needed to add that in there for some reason."

"No, that helps a lot. Thank you." She laughs. "I think that would be a great option for you. Our masseur is one of the most top-rated in the city." You nod, impressed. Were they now? "Here." She hands you a pen. "I just need you to fill out these medical intake forms—" She pushes the form closer to you. "And then sign these liability forms." She follows up with the last forms.

"Sounds good."

"Once you're done, I'll take you to a room to get situated before your masseur comes in." You nod once more, giving her eye contact before continuing your task of filling out the paperwork appropriately. Yannie heads back to support the front desk momentarily until she sees you walking towards her with the completed paperwork. She thanks you, takes the papers and hands it over to the front desk before nodding towards the back. "Follow me, I'll bring you to a room." You quietly follow behind, the back area of the establishment being much bigger than you expected. You pass two rather handsome and attractive males on the way to your room, both of them giving you a bright, white smile before continuing on their way. You make a mental note that maybe, this wouldn't be so bad after all.

A massage and eye candy? Shit, count me the fuck in.

You passed a line of rooms before Yannie turns towards an empty one near the end of the hallway. She lets out a breath for a moment before stepping aside to let you in, showing you to the side of the room where you could place your things.

"Hm, let me go grab your masseur so that you can be on your way, alright? You can place your things here if you'd like, but once he comes in, he'll have you undress down to your underwear and into a robe before getting you on the table." She gives you a smile before walking out and shutting your door. As you stand around awkwardly, you hear her outside asking for your particular masseur, which isn't the problem, but it's the name that catches you off guard—

"Where's Yoongi?" You hear her ask. Yoongi, as in Min Yoongi? You hoped that there was another Yoongi on this planet just to save you from making this session 10x more awkward and weird, but something inside you told you that no, he was the only Yoongi you knew of and that's exactly who this was.

Fuck.

"You have a client, she's in there already." You hear her down the hall, followed by a low 'alright.' Suddenly, the door swings open again and it's Yannie along with the Min Yoongi himself. You're caught off guard that you don't even speak. You simply look at him, eyes full of curiosity, full of question, as he with you. But, he's quick to furrow his brows before slowly walking inside, Yannie catching onto the sudden tension in the air.

"Um, this is Yoongi, your masseur." She clears her throat.

"Sure is." You say, still keeping your eyes on him.

"Have you two met before?"

"Yup." Yoongi says before turning to her with a small smile. "I got it from here boss, thanks." Yannie gives you one last smile before shutting the door and walking down the hallway to continue her previous tasks.

"Well, if you look who it is—" You say sarcastically, placing your things down onto the side. "I didn't know you worked here." You're saying things in a certain tone to make sure Yoongi doesn't see how much you're actually dreading this right now. Because you are, god, you fucking are, and you almost wish you didn't step foot into this establishment and ask for a hot stone massage.

Could've been anything else. You should have done your research before.

"Hm, there's alot of things you don't know about me anymore, Y/N." He says coldly. "Didn't think I'd ever see you here." He starts to look at the papers and gather his things together, his back turned against you.

"Yeah, well. Rissa gave me a birthday coupon." He nods silently. "H-how've you been?" You ask him, awkwardly rubbing at your arm.

"Good as can be." He says flatly before turning to look at you, no emotion to match his blank expression. You look at the way he's changed— his orange, long hair that suited him well, body built perfectly, jaw line shaped with perfection. You're pulled out of your thoughts when he turns once more, pointing towards the back of the room. "Gonna need you to undress and get into the robe. This time, might wanna keep your panties on." He gives you a look, and you aren't sure whether or not he's throwing shade at you for whatever problems you had caused him— you weren't sure. Maybe that's where you went wrong because at one point, you and Yoongi had been close. You and Yoongi had shared everything, you and Yoongi had been everything to each other. He was one of your closest friends, maybe at some points a little too close than friends normally would be, but that was your relationship with him and you both had been on the same page about it. He was always good to you, always taking care of you, always knowing what was best for you over him—

Then, it just.. stopped.

And you clearly never understood where you went wrong. At least, to your knowledge, it wasn't clear where you went wrong.

"Mmkay." Is all you say, heading behind the divider towards the back end of his room to change into the fresh, clean robe hanging on the other side of it. You slip out of your clothes, leaving your panties on as Yoongi ever so respectfully requested, and get the robe on. You tighten the strap, feeling shy around him even though Yoongi has definitely you full blown naked before.

He's touched you.

He's kissed you.

He's handled you.

It's been years, though.

"Get on the table face down, please. I'll start off with your back." He turns to you, meeting your eyes but nothing more. He's always been this way, he's always been hard to crack. You were just lucky you were able to at some point.

You do as you're told, slipping the robe off of you and tossing it aside when Yoongi turns around to give you some privacy. You lay face down onto the table, suddenly feeling Yoongi place a clean linen cloth to cover your sacrum and below. He looks at you for a minute because even though it's been awhile, he remembers everything about you, your body. He remembers the tiny mole right below your left shoulder blade, remembers the scar on your knee. He remembers where your spots used to be, where you liked to be touched, kissed.

He lets out a small huff before shaking his head at the thoughts that start to occupy his mind. There's soft music playing in the background to help ease the energy in the room, to help relax you and soothe you. And it does. Everything feels peaceful for a moment that you almost forget you're about to get a massage by Yoongi himself until—

"You ready? I'm gonna start with your back. Let me know if the stones get too hot for you." He says, dimming the lights just a bit, lighting some candles and incense.

"Mhm." You mumble. You hear Yoongi digging the stones out of the water bath, placing them gently on a towel in front of him before grabbing the oil and lathering his hands.

"I'm gonna start, alright? Gonna oil you up first." He says, his large, strong hands manually giving your back a good massage with the oil to introduce his touch, get your tissues warmed up. You immediately feel relaxed under his touch, all tension seemingly disappearing into thin air. He feels you ease up underneath him, hands with the magic touch you could almost call him Midas.

/ FLASHBACK

"Fuck." You giggle into Rissa's shoulder, red cup empty after the second, third, sixth [who fucking knows at this point] drink of the night.

"So drunk." She giggles along with you, sipping on water.

"God, I'm getting over this party though." You turn to look at your surroundings. "Look, literally no one is dancing anymore. Everyone is just standing around talking or—" You snort when you see one of your friends slumped on the couch. "Slumped."

"It's almost that time of the night, miss. We're crossing into 1AM."

"Ugh, I need to take my drunk ass home."

"No, you need Yoongi to take your drunk ass home." She lifts your chin to get you to look at her but you pout.

"You're not going home, huh?" You ask her, already knowing she was going to spend the night at her boyfriend's apartment.

"Mm, you know this." She laughs. "Your girl needs dick. Bad."

"Whatever."

"Saying it like you don't have the same fucking thought. Shame." She gives you a look.

"Where is heeeeee?" You elongate the 'he,' lip forming into another pout as you drunkily close your eyes.

"Your man's over there." She nods towards the living room, Yoongi standing along the wall with a few of his friends.

"He's not my man."

"Mm." She looks at you up and down. "Go over there before I have more shit to say." You laugh and start making your way over to Yoongi, immediately wrapping your hand around his wrist, chin resting against his bicep.

"You okay?" Yoongi chuckles at how adorable you look.

"Drunk. Just.. drunk."

"I see that." He moves his arm to drape it over your shoulders and pull you close. "Wanna get out of here?"

"Fuck, yeah. Please."

"Where to?"

"Home." You look at him and he nods. The both of you bid your farewell's to his friends before tossing your empty cups and heading out. Yoongi had one drink earlier in the night, but he had been sipping on soda onwards throughout the evening simply because he knew you needed him to take you home. In fact, he would rather let you have the time of your life and watch you have your fun instead of him. He loved seeing that side of you, loved seeing you full of life, full of fun.

It's what attracted him to you the most.

"You okay, princess?"

"Yeah, just wanna get the fuck out of these shoes." He laughs.

"Okay, almost there." He says, kissing your temple. When you finally head down the street to the car, Yoongi gets you situated in the seat before heading to the driver's side and getting himself situated. "You're not gonna yack, are you?" He laughs when he starts driving off towards your apartment.

"No, I'm fine. God." You roll your eyes and lean your head back against the head rest.

"I'm just playing, baby." He says, large hand roaming to your thigh and giving it a good squeeze. You let out a small whimper at his touch, Yoongi smirking to himself when he knows exactly what that means. "Gonna get you some water and make sure you sleep this shit off, I don't wanna hear you complain tomorrow."

"When do I ever complain?"

"All the fucking time, dude." He laughs. "Damn. You're lucky I like you." He quickly caresses your chin. The rest of the ride is quiet, nothing but the soft music playing in the background in his car, the sounds of cars passing by along with the train running through the tracks nearby your apartment building. He parks in a guest spot that's quite far, offering to carry you up to your apartment if you feel too tired. You let him know you're alright though, lacing your fingers with his as you make your way to your door. He grabs your keys, unlocks the door and watches as you stumble in and hurriedly get out of your shoes— tossing them off to the side messily.

"Thank God, ugh." You groan, falling face down onto your comfortable, comfortable bed. You hear Yoong in your kitchen, grabbing you a glass of water and going through your medicine cabinet before walking in to your room and shutting the door behind him.

"Here. Drink some water, please."

"And if I don't?" You tease, still face down against your pillow.

"I'll leave."

"That was unfair." You say, slowly sitting up to drink some of the water. His hand caresses your back as you drink, watching to make sure you get a good amount of water in you before you set the glass back down. Once you do, you immediately get to removing your clothes, tossing them aside and crawling under your sheets in just your bra and panties.

"You wanna sleep? You don't wanna stay up for a bit?" He says, grabbing the pair of basketball shorts he left behind in your closet so he can change into something comfier.

"And do what?"

"You're gonna have a headache in the morning, Y/N."

"It's fine, I'll deal with it when the morning comes." You whine. "Can you just come here and cuddle me like you typically do?" He chuckles.

"Yeah, yeah." He says, finally crawling in and throwing his arm around your waist even as you awkwardly lay on your stomach with a leg bent upwards. He begins to quietly massage your sides and down your back, fingers gently running a line down your spine. He listens to you let out a breath, body easing up under his touch like it always does. "Feels good?" He says nearing a whisper, close to your ear.

"Mhm." You let out breathily, eyes shut to feel more of his touch. You feel him unclasp your bra to work his hands deeper into your shoulders and either side of your spine. Yoongi always knew how to work his way with you, work his magic on you— so much that even this simple massage has you wanting more out of him. It's like that though. Your relationship with Yoongi was just like that. You turn to face him and his hand continues to linger on your side, giving it a squeeze when he looks down at your face, nose, down to your lips.

"Need a massage here, too?" He smirks, playing with the strap of your bra.

"You're an idiot." You giggle as he pulls you closer and completely gets rid of your bra while planting small, soft kisses along the surface of your neck. "Wasn't really planning on this, you know?"

"That's funny cause that's always the story, yet what do we always end up doing?" Your eyes flutter at the feeling of his lips against your skin. Your hands roam up to grip his hair just as he makes his way up to your jaw, cheek, kissing the tip of your nose before locking his lips with yours. You moan into the kiss as it deepens, your tongue instantly slipping into his. The only sounds that can be heard within your room are the cars passing by outside, mixed with the noises of wet kisses being exchanged.

You work your way to toss Yoongi's shirt aside, just as he works his way to hook his finger onto your panties and slip it off. You tease at his clothed, hardened cock by palming him through his shorts and he responds by feeling how wet your pussy is. You let out a small gasp when you feel his hand start rubbing at your pussy, spreading your wetness across your pussy lips.

"Just fuck me, Yoongi." You moan, already taking his cock from beneath his shorts before he can fully shred the piece of clothing.

"Yeah, I'm gonna take care of you, baby." He says, wasting no time to climb ontop of you, taking his cock and sliding it up and down your slit a few times to tease you.

"Please." You whine. "Need to feel you." He smirks and bites onto his bottom lip just as he takes his tip and breaches your entrance.

"God, you already feel so fucking good." He lets out. "So wet for me." He watches his cock sink into you, deeper and deeper, until he bottoms out completely.

"Ohhhhhmygod—" You arch your back slightly at the feeling of being full. Yoongi works at a slow pace at first, trying to get the right rhythm going as he cocks your legs wide open with his hands.

"Princess. Look at you. Creaming the fuck out of my cock." He says, looking down as he teasingly slips in and out of you. He begins to pick up his pace, rolling his hips into you as a hand grips onto your headboard to keep him steady, the other hand kept tightly on your hip. He starts to pound into you relentlessly, loving how delicious your walls feel wrapped around him tightly.

It always, always, always, keeps him wanting more of you.

"Yes, yes, yes— just like that—hmmmfuck!" You moan a bunch of jibberish together, nails digging crescents onto his arm. "Feels so fucking good." You continue to whine, whimper, begging him to keep going for you. He lowers his body so that he could run his hands up your hair, whispering praises in your ear as he strokes in and out at a steady speed.

Making you feel him, all of him, completely.

He always tells you how beautiful you are to him, how you're his baby, how there's no one who could make him feel the way you do.

How no one could ever come close to you.

And that's the one thing that always has you hurdling over the edge, reaching your orgasm much faster than expected. Because not only does he fuck you so, so good— but he praises you, knows just the right fucking words to say, knows just how to touch you in the right places.

You let out a loud moan, yelling his name as your eyes roll to the back of your head when your orgasm takes full control. His hand slides down to grip your neck, fucking you senselessly as he tries to reach his own high watching you cum all over his dick. And he does. It takes a few more thrusts, but before you know it, his lips are grazing yours, both of you letting out silent moans when he releases inside of you, painting your walls full of white ribbons.

He comes down from his high as he softens inside of you, lips pecking feathery kisses on yours before he finally pulls out and rolls over next to you. He grabs a napkin from your nightstand and gently wipes you clean before taking care of himself and throwing his arm back around you.

"You okay?" He brushes the hair out of your face before you roll onto your side.

"Definitely more sober now." You say, making him chuckle as he holds you close and kisses your shoulder.

"Good. At least I helped prevent the morning headache."

"Shut up." You chuckle.

"Anything for you." He continues to joke.

/ END FLASHBACK

After Yoongi gives your back a good introductory massage, he then turns to get the stones and holds them tightly in his palms. You feel the back of his hands work their way down on either side of your spine, all the way down to your sacrum, before coming back up. He repeats this process a few times before flipping his palms over and rolling the stones down the same path. He adds the right pressure against the surface of your skin, the heat just enough to penetrate and hit deeper into your tissue.

Yoongi doesn't even know how to feel right now with you being underneath him for a completely different reason today. And it's been years— years since you've last spoken, last talked.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't hurt all over again when he saw you.

You still looked beautiful as ever, still rocking that fine ass body with curves in all the right places. Yeah, he definitely wasn't hurt when you two ended up the way you did. He wish it never ended up that way. He wanted much, much more with you. You just never seemed to feel the same. But he couldn't dwell on it. Figured he'd just accept it and move on, even if that meant without you by his side. That was probably the hardest part all along. To be with you almost 24/7, to suddenly being without you at all. He had to do it though, for his own sake.

Yeah, he'd defnitely be lying if he said he wasn't hurt all over again when he saw you.

"Feels alright?" He dips lowly near your ear as he holds stones sideways and digs them deep into your shoulders, down your back, sacrum; always avoiding the spine directly.

"Mmm." Is all he hears. He continues to work all through your back and up to your neck before placing the stones down to rest along your spine. He places two tiny stones amongst your shoulders, guiding you to move your hand backwards one at a time, just so he can give you a good, deep, proper massage in between the scapula. Afterwards, he grabs new stones and moves down to your left leg. He uncovers it, gently massaging up and down your thigh, calf, in a circular motion with the stones, using them as an extension of his hands. He does this for awhile until he feels like he's done enough, the heat slowly moving away from the stones in his palms. So, he sticks a stone on the back of your knee where the bend is, and takes the other stone down to your foot for a soft massage— flipping the stone as needed to distribute the heat along your foot properly. Once he's finished with his final touches, he places the stone in the middle of your foot, covers the entire leg with the linen cloth and repeats the same process on your right leg.

You're sinking in and out of sleep while Yoongi massages you, all of a sudden forgetting the heated, awkward tension in the air as he continues to work his magic throughout your body. For a moment, you don't regret stepping foot into the establishment. For a moment, you don't ponder on your worries and why things feel so fucking tense between you and Yoongi. Then it hits you when he clears his throat in the background that yeah, your relationship, friendship— whatever the hell you wanted to call it— was cut off so abruptly. Seeing him made you really miss having him around. Because besides Rissa, he was someone you were able to lean on, have fun with, be yourself around.

There was no pressure with Yoongi before.

Now, there's a ton.

Pressure to, what? Fix things? Talk about things? Figure out where it went so, so wrong that he had upped and left, cutting off all ties with you without reason? You don't even know where or how to start.

"Y/N." He repeats.

"Hm?"

"I said I need you to flip over so I can work on the front of your body." You're nervous. God, you're nervous. It's like you were trying to impress him all over again, the same Min Yoongi that you had the fattest fucking crush on. The same Min Yoongi that you could do all that shit with, but could never admit that you had feelings for.

You hold onto the linen cloth as you carefully turn yourself over on the table, Yoongi once again giving you the privacy you need by turning his back. When he feels like he's given you enough time, he turns to see you pulling the linen cloth over your chest. He walks over, taking his biggest stone into another towel and wrapping it tightly before placing it down on your abdomen.

"That feel okay? Gonna leave this here while I work through your arms and legs."

"Yeah, that feels nice."

"Cool." He says, pressing it down ever so slightly just so you could feel the heat against your abdomen. He starts with your left leg, following the same rhythm he had when he massaged the back of your leg earlier. He takes the stones around your thigh, down to your calf, and works it in small circular motions before repeating the same up and down motion he had done before. He then takes the stone, places it underneath the bend of your knee and take the other to your foot. He gently grips your foot, working the stone in small motions against the surface before his touch disappears and he moves onto the next leg.

His touch.

You remember feeling cold without his touch.

After massaging your leg, he takes a moment to grab another warm towel and places it over your breasts before sliding the linen cloth down below your abdomen.

"Gonna give you a quick abdomen massage. The towel feel okay?" You let out a small 'mhm' before you hear him take a stone from behind you. He slowly introduces his touch against your abdomen, watching your body react to his touch.

His touch.

You remember how you used to react to his touch.

His touch is soft, gentle, when he presses into your abdomen, applying the right pressure as he goes on just as he realizes you're comfortable again. He takes a stone and proceeds with double-handed kneading that followed the pattern along your colon.

He makes his way up to work with your left arm, hooking the stone into the palm of his hand while he uses the other for support— gently running it up your arm and over your shoulder, back down towards your wrist. He switches to another stone and turns your hand over; starting from your palm and working his way up to your axillary node, then back down. Afterwards, he takes both stones in his hands, running it back all the way up before gently kneading as he comes back down. He leaves a stone under your hand before taking two long stones to do some manipulation around your shoulders. Once he feels like he has finished your left arm, he repeats the process on your right.

"That felt nice." Yoongi smirks at your sudden comment.

"That's the goal." He says, fixing the linen cloth over your body, tucking it in neatly so that your upper chest is properly exposed to him. "We're almost done here. I'll work on your upper chest and do a facial massage, okay? Then you'll be out of here."

"What if I don't wanna be out of here? It's too relaxing." You mumble.

"Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way." He chuckles. "Relax." He closes off the quick conversation by soothing your upper chest, working his hands around, up the shoulders and neck just to warm up the tissue. He repeats the process but this time, takes his two long stones and works them in, running it across your chest and in circular motions around the shoulders. He places them right beneath your collarbones so you can continue feeling the heat penetrate your tissues before taking two smaller stones to your face. He works the stones in an outward motion on your cheek, your forehead, in between your eyes— before working in an upward motion along the same path. Then, he grabs two stones a size up, working it behind the neck, ear and into the hairline in smaller motions. He sets the stones aside, now finishing off the massage by working his fingers deep into your scalp, down to your temples, keeping his hands over your ears for a brief moment to let the heat and energy transfer over. "How do you feel?" He says lowly near your ear, the vibrations in his tone somehow still able to send a tingle down your spine after all these years.

"Really good."

"Yeah? That's good." He says, hands gently gliding down your neck, back to the surface of your chest before he removes the stones. "Hope that was a nice session for you."

"Way more than that. Thank you." He smiles to himself before turning towards the counter, placing the rest of his supplies back on the surface to remind himself to do some good cleaning and disinfecting before his next client.

"Take your time when you get up and get ready, alright? Don't get up too fast." You open your eyes, still feeling calm, relaxed, as your body feels every inch of the table.

"Can't I just stay?" You joke.

"No can do." Yoongi chuckles a bit.

"Hey." You call for him. "This might sound a little crazy to ask but, do you think we can catch up? It's been a long time, and quite frankly, I wasn't really expecting to run into you here." He turns over his shoulder before shaking his head.

"I don't know. I don't really think there's much for us to catch up on."

"You said it yourself, there's alot of things I don't know about you anymore. We used to be close—"

"Used to be." He says quite harshly when he cuts you off. "And yeah, just cause I said that, doesn't mean it's shit you need to know." He sighs, pushing his things aside before looking at you. "Sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out that way, but you're right. It's been years, and to be honest, part of me just wants to leave it in the past like it should be kept in the past. I don't really know if there's much for us to talk about."

"Please don't be like that. I'm trying to figure out where things went wrong. It's always bothered me that we ended up this way." He shrugs.

"You ever think that maybe this is just how things were meant to be?" He says, giving you one last look, his tongue licking his bottom lip. "It was really nice to see you though, Y/N. Hope you had a good time." He says before grabbing the door knob and twisting it, not really expecting you to be back for another session after all of this. "Again, no rush. My next client isn't until an hour from now." With that, he walks out and shuts the door, leaving you to your own peace.

You were relaxed. Felt blissful, felt at ease.

But now, you aren't so sure. You aren't sure if you wanna break down and cry, if you wanna run after him and beg for him to just talk to you.

You just aren't sure.

So you get up and walk over to the back, throwing on your clothes before lazily tossing the robe into the hamper placed near the divider. You let out a breath before grabbing the knob and twisting it, revealing an empty hallway with a few closed doors in front of you. No Yoongi in sight though, and you can't help but feel a bit heavy walking out of the session as if you didn't just receive a hot stone massage from him.

"Hey! How was it?" Yannie asks, reading your expression as you walk out and tug on your unzipped hoodie. You give her a small, toothless smile and nod, hoping to be on your way quickly.

"It was great!" You simply say with a nod. "Definitely will be back." You lie, mainly because you aren't really sure where this leaves you with Yoongi even if you wanted to be back for one. Shit, that massage was everything you needed and more.

"Good to hear, we'll see you again soon then." She smiles before waving you off.

Fuck.

As for the rest of the day, you do take the time to walk around town, run into a few stores to window shop and eat at the nearby mom and pop Vietnamese restaurant for a good ol' bowl of pho. Mainly out of enjoyment for your day off, moreso because your thoughts were starting to plague your mind and you needed a distraction.

If anything, today taught you that you really needed to take more time out of your busy schedule to slip in some self-care. So, that's what you do to end your night just as well as you started it [you like to think]. You run some hot water and bubbles, pour a glass of red, red wine and light up some incense, candles.

"Wait—" Rissa says while you have her on speaker, phone sitting on the toilet cover. "Yoongi was your masseur?!”

"Yuuuup." You say, sipping on your red wine.

"Oh, this is some shit." She laughs. "Wish I could get my ass on that first flight home so I could see how you look right now."

"Don't even try it."

"Well, tell me the massage was at least worth it."

"It was, very much so." She chuckles.

"But?"

"But, what?"

"There's a 'but' in that sentence. Now, spill."

"It's just weird. We fell off so abruptly, there was no closure. I just wish we could talk about things, I'm not entirely sure where things went wrong between us and it kinda sucks now that I've seen him again."

"I know Yoongi has always meant a lot to you, Y/N. But you could never admit it to him, yourself, even. Don't you think that has a lot to do with this?"

"W-what? That's not true."

"See, there you go again." You sigh.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Think about it. Not saying that's it, there could be other reasons and the only person who would really know is Yoongi since we know what your side is like, but we don't know his."

"I don't know what to do. Should I go back?"

"What, for a massage or for Yoongi?" She laughs. "Or both, I guess."

"Both." You slip a bit further down into the water. "He was pretty direct today. I don't think he wants to talk about it, but part of me can't really let that go."

"You've always been stubborn like that. But, it's good, you know? You always go for what you want without giving up. I say go for it. If he really, really doesn't wanna see you and talk about things after this, then don't force it. Maybe he's right. It sucks to say, but maybe that's really how you two were supposed to end up." You sigh.

"Yeah, yeah." You respond simply, shutting your eyes as you let the hot water seep in and continue to relax your muscles. It was hard to say. Yoongi did mean a lot to you. He was someone you always had fun with, someone you could trust, someone who took care of you even when you didn't ask.

Of course, he meant a lot to you.

Of course, you wouldn't let that go after seeing him again.

But of course, Yoongi's detached and you're having to break through his walls yet again— most likely due to something you did that you weren't even aware of.

"You're back!" Yannie exclaims when she sees you walk through the door shyly.

"I am. I probably should have called beforehand, but I wasn't sure if I was going to make it in time before the last slot." You rub your hands together. "Is Yoongi here?"

"He sure is, and you just got lucky. His last spot cancelled not too long ago." Yannie shrugs.

"Sweet."

"He's with someone right now, but the session will be over—" She glances at the time. "Pretty soon, actually. Take a seat and get comfortable for now, alright?" She smiles, handing you one form to sign. You silently take the form with you, reading through the liability language again as you take your pen and get ready to sign at the line on the bottom half of the page. Sooner or later, you hear some giggling and a female voice echoing in the back hallway, a pretty, young lady coming through with Yoongi following behind her.

His smile drops almost instantly when he sees you sitting there. But it's not cause he's mad or anything, no. He could never be that mad at you after everything, could never hold a big grudge against you. He's just surprised that you're back, and he's also [surprisingly] relieved to see you're back.

Your eyes, and that smile.

The way you always used to hold onto him and hold his hand, looking up at him with those puppy dog eyes.

Your laugh.

He could never be that mad at you.

"Hey, I know your last client cancelled, but Y/N is here hoping to grab that slot." Yoongi nods.

"Yeah, it's no problem." He looks at the young lady in front of him as she bats her lashes and sways her hips while walking towards the door.

"See you next session, Yoonks?" She calls him a weird nickname that falls off her tongue so poorly. God.

"Of course." He smiles shyly, hand coming to the nape of his neck as he watches her walk out. He finally turns his attention towards you and clears his throat when he realizes you had been watching the interaction the entire time. "I um, just need to clean up in there a bit then I'll be ready for you. Give me a couple of minutes."

"Okay." Is all you say before finally scribbling your fucking signature on that line. Oh, Yoonks. Hope she isn't the one you're slipping in bed with. Your heart would be crushed to know he already had someone, even though you knew it was a high possibility after all this time. You couldn't be selfish with him forever.

Sooner or later, you're pulled out of your thoughts when Yoongi peeks his head out into the waiting area and taps the door frame. He purses his lips together when he looks at you and nods.

"Ready?"

"Mmyeah." You get up to follow him.

"Enjoy!" Yannie exclaims when she sees you follow him to the back. You quietly continue on, setting your things aside like you had done before when you step into the room and Yoongi shuts the door behind him.

"Was that your girlfriend, or something?" You tease.

"No. Repeat client." He looks at you before turning. "Somehow, I know you aren't really here for the massage." He fiddles with his things on the counter.

"I mean, I am. I could really use one."

"But you wanna try and talk, don't you?" You silently excuse yourself behind the divider to change and slip the robe on.

"Maybe. I won't push it." You say, tying the robe close before taking a seat on the edge of the table.

"Mm, but you always push it." He softly chuckles. "There's no stopping Y/N when she's determined to get what she wants." He turns to look at you, white tee hugging his body so nicely— you can't help but ogle a bit when he steps in front of you.

"No, not anymore necessarily." You try and cover your shit up even though both him and Rissa are right. You know this.

"Right." He lets out a little laugh. "You wanna lie down so we can get this started?" He walks over to the cabinets, grabbing a fresh, clean pair of linens in his hands. When he turns, he catches you removing your robe and covering your breasts when you're about to lie down. He quickly turns because quite frankly, he shouldn't even be in here for this— but, it's you.

You know this, too.

"I'm ready." You tell him, placing your face into the cushion comfortably.

"Cool." He says, draping your lower body with the linen in his hand, tucking it gently into your sides to make you feel even more comfortable. He makes his way to the front, preparing to manually massage you before adding the stones just so he can introduce his touch again. "Gonna start, alright? Relax, breathe in and out. I'll massage you without the stones first to get your tissues warmed up."

"Okay." You pause before calling for him again. "Yoongi?" You let out a little weirdly with the pressure he's adding onto your back.

"Hm?"

"What really happened between us?" He chuckles.

"And here you were, trying to tell me you weren't gonna push the agenda. Do you have to do this now? Mid-hot stone massage?" You head the clacking of the stones against each other before he starts working it into your back. He's right, it honestly feels too good for you to speak properly, but you felt like this was the only way— the only option, so to speak. His number had changed, he wasn't necessarily on social media. Didn't live at home with his parents anymore.

How else could you contact him besides seeing him for a massage?

"What other choice do I have?"

"I already told you there isn't much to talk about."

"Yeah, so why are we so awkward with each other?"

"It's been years."

"Why has it been years, Yoongi?" He sighs, head falling before he continues to work your back.

"It's your massage, don't blame me if you don't feel completely rested afterwards." He caves, gives in, knowing he can't ever say no to you. He can't ever be that mad, no.

You know that.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Y/N. I was pretty upset with you when we spoke last. Do you even remember when that was?" He speaks up again.

"In college, yeah." You let out a small sigh when he deeply massages near the shoulder blades.

"So, you don't exactly remember?"

"Yoongi, I don't. Okay? I'm sorry." He should've expected it. He remembers that scene so clearly in his head, it almost aches him. He really did like you, Y/N. Min Yoongi was so much in like with you that he wanted to stop being friends with benefits, and he wanted more out of it. He was sure you two could take it there, no doubt. You fit each other well. So, so well—

Until you didn't.

/ FLASHBACK

"Sorry, I need to go find Y/N soon. She said she wanted to kick it." Yoongi tells his friend, Akio.

"What, for a quick fuck?" He laughs, making Yoongi shake his head.

"Shut the fuck up. She's not just a quick fuck. That girl means a lot to me, alright?" Yoongi catches the way Akio's face falls, moreso into confusion.

"Wait, you're not serious, right?"

"I'm pretty sure I am." Yoongi responds sarcastically, a little thrown off at the way he's taking the news right now. Was there something he wasn't aware about? Last time he checked, even if you two weren't serious, you both were exclusively just fucking around with each other and each other only.

Yoongi could be completely wrong at this point, though. But he hoped he wasn't. He really respected you and cared about you more than anyone he has ever crossed paths with, and the foundation of your friendship, that closeness you two had before anything, meant everything to him. He would never fuck that up. That's why he always checked in with you, always made sure that what you two were doing was still okay. He would never wanna disrespect you or make you feel uncomfortable. He never wanted to step out of line, or even hurt you in the slightest bit.

"Look, I just thought you two settled on the fact that you were friends with benefits, that's all."

"What do you know that I don't?"

"Nothing, man. That's it."

"Don't lie to my face, dude." Yoongi gives off a nervous chuckle. "What did she say to you?"

"She's been telling people that you two weren't serious and that she couldn't really see you two together like that.. or— that she couldn't see you like that." Ouch. Yoongi's fucking hurt, alright. And if that wasn't enough, Yoongi catches the way Akio looks past his shoulder, so he follows his gaze. He turns to see you flirting with the hot soccer boy on campus, Kane, who was also notorious for sleeping around and messing with other females at the same time.

Great.

Fucking great.

Because he knows you wouldn't turn that down— no, the fuck you wouldn't.

And he wishes he was wrong because the moment he sees you hold onto his arm and let him walk you up into the dormitory, his heart sinks. Shatters to pieces. Everything feels numb.

He thought you two were on the same page. Clearly, you weren't. He could never be that mad at you, though. Because he's always gonna have it for you, always gonna have that soft spot for you and hold you close, even if you were meant to stray away, even if you were meant to be kept at a distance.

He could never be that mad at you, no.

"I'm sorry my guy, I really thought you two had been on the same page. I didn't wanna be the first to break it to you like that. Maybe you should talk to her."

"No, it's good. You're right, it's really not that serious." He lies.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it's whatever." Akio shrugs.

"Alright then, I'm just saying. It could be good for you two to talk. It seems like there's still a disconnect somewhere." Yoongi ignores his added statement and pats him on the back.

"Gotta go, catch you later." He thought you two were close enough, thought he could read every inch of you, be that person who knew you like the back of his hand. He thought he had the privilege of having that much access to you because god, never in a million years would he have guessed. It started off so innocently, started off as two friends going through college together, before it grew into something more.

He wished it could blossom into more.

But now, maybe he truly does have to keep you at a distance. Keep you away, treat you like your mind and heart had been somewhere else this entire time.

Fuck.

Later that evening, Yoongi runs into you after you finish up a review session in the library. It was the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight, but there was no turning back. You weren't even aware that he knew about the things you said, seeing you with Kane earlier today. You knew nothing.

"Hey." You giggle, swinging your arms around him, but he gently pries it off and continues to walk towards his dorm. "Wait, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just having an off day." He says, keeping his head hung low.

"What happened?"

"Classes, homework. Lots of stuff to do."

"Oh, okay. That's it?" You nervously chuckle. "You got it, champ. I know you'll get through it." You playfully punch at his bicep, but he doesn't respond. "Okay, well, I'm sorry it's been a bad day." You awkwardly rub at your arms, stopping in your tracks. "I'm gonna go hang out with Kane and his friends, alright? Let me know if you need me."

"Mhm." He says, brushing you off completely and walking into this dormitory building.

/ END FLASHBACK

"I was waiting for you to try and figure out what was wrong. I wanted you to come to me and fix things, like I always do when something is off between us—" He works his way to your left arm. "With you. But the one night I needed you to do the same, you couldn't. Then you proceeded to tell me you were gonna go off and hang out with Kane and his friends." He says, working the stones down your arm.

"I wish you could have just told me."

"Y/N. You knew something was wrong, but you just didn't try to fix it. You didn't really care in the moment. The only thing you cared about was yourself and benefitting for yourself." You aren't really sure how to respond because now that you think about the moment, he was right. You knew something was off, but you didn't care enough to try and fix it. Yoongi had always been there for you, had always put you before anyone and anything.

And the one time he expected you to pull your own weight, even as a good friend [all benefits and fuckbuddy shit aside], you couldn't do that for him.

"I'm sorry."

"I mean." He chuckles, covering your arm with the linen before moving down to your leg. "Doesn't really matter anymore, right?"

"Of course it does. I'm sorry it had to take this for me to realize but it really fucked me up that we just stopped talking. I was dumb." You mumble.

"You're not dumb, don't say things like that." He adds.

"I'm really sorry."

"Don't apologize anymore. It's fine. I shouldn't have made it such a big deal."

"It is a big deal." He sighs a bit. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mhm."

"Were you really hurt about the whole Kane thing?"

"Are you really asking me this?"

"Right." You subtly shake your head. "I take it back—"

"Of course I was hurt." He continues to reply anyway. "I thought we were on the same page. We were for awhile. My feelings for you grew, and I thought we'd eventually make our way into something bigger than just being friends with benefits. I cared a lot about you, I tried to do a lot of things to show you that you were something special to me. You always came first because I had never had someone make me feel comfortable in my own skin the way that you did. Then—" He gently massages your foot with the stone before moving onto your other leg, introducing is touch just like he did before. "When I found out you were messing with other people and telling other people you didn't really see me that way, it fucked me up."

"Yoongi." You turn your head to the side, hoping to get a glimpse of him somehow.

"Nah, it's okay. You wanted an explanation so I'm giving it to you. Really, there's no need to try and apologize for it now. It's all in the past and I kinda just wanna leave it that way." You're a tad bit hurt at the way he won't accept the apology, but part of you understood that it took way too long for you to realize that something you had done affected him in ways you could only imagine.

"I should've done better." Is all you can say. He doesn't respond to it, though. Just continues to massage you, make you feel good like he always has done. You feel a little awkward now, lowkey regretting the fact that you came here with the sole intention to get Yoongi to talk about what happened between you two. Although, it was definitely something you needed to hear. Where to go from here though? You had no idea how to navigate this. What if this was it? After seeing him, you didn't want it to be. You wanted to try and fix this, even with knowing that it was close to impossible to bring back what you two had before.

That's the only thought that continued to plague your mind at this moment; the only thought that repeated itself over and over again that you didn't even realize you were now having to face him as you switch onto your back to let Yoongi massage the front of your body.

"You can relax, you know?" He looks you in the eye, a little confused as to why you're just plainly staring at him as he starts the front body massage.

"I'm sorry." You repeat, close to a whisper. "I just wanna fix things between us. I know it's a little late, but better late than never right?"

"Mm, I'm always going to have a soft spot for you Y/N.. but in a way where I can just support you and care about you from a distance. I think we work better that way."

"Do we, though?"

"These past years kinda say so, don't you think?"

"But that's because I didn't know any better." He shrugs.

"It seemed to be fine." He simply states.

"Were you, though? I missed you, a lot. I just didn't know how else to reach out to you before, or where to even find you."

"Don't say things you don't mean." He lets out a tiny breath, pursing his lips together.

"I do mean that. I thought about us, you, a lot. I missed the way you cared for me and how you were always there for me. I missed how you always made me feel so special." You stop there, even though you can go on and on about how Yoongi made you feel back in the days. That lingering feeling of attachment, of needing his touch, his cuddles, the way he never let you down. Fuck, he was so good to you. You let him get away.

"Sounds like this is purely for your benefit."

"You can't say we didn't make each other happy."

"You did make me happy, I just wasn't the case for you."

"Of course you made me happy."

"Kinda hard to believe." He says flatly. "Look, I said what I needed to say. I think that's what you wanted, right? I've just come to the conclusion that we're better off the way that we ended up. You'll always mean something to me, no matter what. Don't get me wrong. But, I think we both just need to continue moving on and leaving that where it belongs." Suddenly the room feels hot and tense, especially when he's incredibly close to your ear, close to your face, your lips. His hands continue to travel down your body, working his touch like he's always been so good at doing.

You leave it at that, though. Respecting his wishes, not wanting to push any further to avoid more issues. Although it fucking kills you, and you wish you could just snap your fingers and you and Yoongi could return to your old ways like shit never happened.

You should've known better, you could have done better. You were too selfish to try at the moment, and now you're laying here wondering how things could have been if you just tried a little harder for him.

He's the one that got away.

Maybe he was right, maybe there really was no coming back from this. Maybe it was just better this way.

When the massage comes to a close, Yoongi softly lets you know that the session has concluded, but doesn't say much. He doesn't offer for you to come back like the first time you came here, doesn't really offer much in general. You quietly get up to change behind the divider, tossing the robe into the hamper while Yoongi tidies up his room for closure tonight. When he hears you come out from behind the divider, he simply gives you a look over his shoulder before returning his attention to his supplies beneath his hands.

"You feel alright?" He decides to ask anyway.

"I guess so." You dig your hands into your pockets. "Thank you."

"Of course." He finally turns to fully look at you, eyes locking onto yours as his tongue comes out to meet the corner of his mouth. You don't pull your gaze away for a bit, his look still giving you those same old butterflies you used to feel when he used to give you the same look back in the day. His eyes used to say a lot about how he felt about you without the need to actually say it out loud. He watches as you grab one of his business cards and scribble something on the back before handing it to him.

"Just know that I'm really sorry, and I really wish we could fix things. Or, I could fix things. I should have done better for you, especially when I knew I felt more for you than what I showed at the time." He sees that you had written your number on the back of one of his business cards, eyes locked on it as it sits in his hand. "In case you ever needed it." You give him one last look before giving him a tiny, toothless smile and excusing yourself out of his room.

Don't get it twisted, though. You do feel relieved he at least told you what was going through his head at the time, and what had happened between the two of you. But, the majority of you felt guilty, and you weren't sure how you'd fix this without forcing the connection, without forcing what wasn't meant to be.

Damn.

"Sorry, I just came out of my massage and got home." You place the phone against your ear as you step into your apartment.

"How was it?" Rissa asks with a small giggle.

"I don't even know, Rissa. I think I may have just fucked this up for good. I shouldn't have gone back."

"Don't say that. Tell me what happened." She says, hearing another sigh leave your lips as you place your bag and keys down.

"I'm so stupid, Rissa. I should have known he was hurt by the whole Kane thing. I should have told him the truth."

"Girl, not to be the 'I told you so' bitch, but I am gonna be that bitch and say I told you so." She says directly. "I knew you were caught up at the time cause Kane was giving you the attention, who wouldn't? But you going around saying the things you said about Yoongi and denying that entire thing was definitely going to backfire."

"God, I was so fucking selfish and dumb." You lay back against your couch and let your head rest back, now remembering the times you brushed Yoongi off without even realizing.

"We live and we learn, at least now you know." Rissa says.

"I apologized, though. I really did try to talk to him about it."

"I'm sure he appreciates it, love. What else did he say?"

"Nothing. He just thinks that maybe we really were meant to fall off and be this way. He was saying that after all these years, it just seems better. He just wants to keep it that way and keep it in the past."

"Maybe he just needs time to think. I'm sure it was hard on his part, especially having to unexpectedly face it again. You know Yoongi doesn't trust a lot of people, and you probably were the one person he could fully trust. I'm sure it hurt him a lot." She says softly.

"I don't know what to do now. I left him my number but fuck, I don't even think he'll use it. He probably trashed it the moment I left the room."

"Just give it time. Again, if it really is meant to be, then it'll happen in time. If not, then I hate to say it, but maybe he's right, hun."

"I hate to think of it that way. God. Why didn't I just realize it at the time?"

"We were young and dumb. It was college. We weren't worried about all this because we wanted to have fun."

"Doesn't make it an excuse." You sighed heavily. "I don't know. I really can't do anything to force it, so I'll just let it be like you like said." There's a small pause before Rissa speaks again.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I will be." You shake your head, not wanting to think more about the situation for the rest of the night. "So, tell me all about what you did today, please? What fun did you get into?" She hears it in your voice, and as your bestfriend, she knows very well that you don't like to stress too much about things. So, she gives you what you want. Gives you the full details of her day so that the both of you can pick at the little things and go off on tangents.

Just so you no longer have to think about Yoongi for tonight.

But that's the opposite case for Yoongi, even if he didn't want it to be the case. Because the moment he gets home from work, all he can think about is you.

He hates that this is always the case with you, hates that he always has that soft spot for you no matter how direct or blunt he can get. Hates how you always have him in some kind of hold, hates how after all these years, you can still make him weak in one way or another.

But he'll never be that mad at you, no. He can never be that mad at you.

/ FLASHBACK

"Hey." Yoongi whispers, slipping into your dorm bed around 2AM. You were fast asleep, cuddled up in your blankets. But, you always left your door open especially for Yoongi to slip himself in.

"You're so cold." You mumble against the sheets, scooting to make room for Yoongi to situated himself in your bed next to you. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, instantly wanting some of the heat you radiated under the covers. "Yoooongi." You whine, trying to pry his arms off of you.

"Baby, you're so warm though." He snuggles against your neck. "Missed you." You continue to whine a bit until you feel him warming up behind you.

"How was Akio's birthday outing?"

"Fun. Kinda drunk, not gonna lie."

"I see." You chuckle a bit, eyes still closed as you turn to face him and snuggle against his chest.

"Been too long without you."

"Shut up." You giggle, eyes slowly flickering as you look at him in the dark.

"Did you miss me?"

"No."

"Fucking liar." He laughs, pulling you closer. He places a peck on your forehead before moving down to the tip of your nose and your lips. You giggle when he continues to give you small, feathery kisses against your lips, playfully pushing him away to get some air.

"You're so fucking affectionate right now. Gross."

"Just missed you." He squeezes your thigh and pulls you near, your waist tucked as close as possible to his crotch. You liked it when he did this shit though, always telling you how much he missed you, how much he wanted you. Always made you feel good, feel special. "Can I kiss you, please?" He looks at you, brushing the hair away from your face and off your shoulder.

"You still have to ask?" You turn a bit, laying on your back with your head turned towards his direction.

"I always have to ask. I never like to assume." He says, large hand coming to cup your cheek. "C'mere." His thumb caresses the surface as he slowly brings your face closer to his, eyes drawn to yours, then down to your lips. When you feel his soft lips press a light kiss against your own, you can't help but release all the butterflies in your tummy. You feel tingles run down your spine, your arms, entire body, even as he continues to deepen his kisses.

It's a quiet night. The only sounds that fill the room are the sweet, soft, slow kisses being exchanged between the two of you. And it was perfectly fine. There were no expectations to fulfill any other need besides being in each other's company and enjoying each other's kisses.

His hand slips down to your sides, giving it a gentle squeeze as he pulls you closer, peppering your jaw and the surface of your neck with feathery kisses. He hungrily moves back to your lips, sucking on your bottom lip before pulling it back with a soft pop. You moan against the next kiss, tugging on his shirt as his hand roams inside of yours.

"Can we fuck already?"

"Not what I came here for." He chuckles when he pulls back from the kiss. "Just wanted to kiss you and cuddle you to sleep."

"Wow, are you being foreel?" You kinda laugh in his face, unsure if he was serious or not.

"Seriously." He edges his face to kiss you some more on the neck, letting him do whatever he wanted to do to you.

Which was that; it was just that. And sometimes, you really did enjoy this part of having Yoongi around— where there was nothing but safety, comfort. No strings attached.

/ END FLASHBACK

The flashback comes into Yoongi's mind after he steps out of the shower, your constant 'I'm sorry's' repeating in his head while he looked at his own business card sitting next to his phone on the bathroom sink counter.

More like your voice repeating in his head, the look on your face repeating in his head. Your eyes, lips.

He can never forget those.

The towel hangs loosely on his waist, water drips down his orange hair, down his chest. He lets out a deep sigh before grabbing his phone, clicking his teeth when he grabs the card.

"Fuck." He mumbles to himself when he types in your number and decides to send a text. A lousy, little text—

[unknown number] 8:53am: coming by again any time soon?

[unknown number] 8:54am: it's yoongi btw

He's definitely lost his touch. He does a slight head tilt when he tosses his phone aside, waiting for your response. Albeit, he hasn't really had a relationship since he was messing with you. Had a few fuckbuddies on the side to try and get rid of the shit you put him through. Nonetheless though, it was never going to compare.

You look at your phone, startled at the sudden notification [especially since it wasn't your family or Rissa]. You look at Yoongi's text for a little bit, unsure if you're relieved he actually put your number to use or if you're nervous about interacting with him some more.

[y/n] 8:58am: why do you ask?

[yoongi] 9:01am: promos happening, just thought you should know

You smirk. That was a terrible lie, and he should've known better than to pull that one.

[y/n] 9:05am: riiiight.. lol. thought about coming later today. could use another massage after this proposal takes everything out of me. wasn't sure if i'd try another kind of massage tho.

[yoongi] 9:07am: you don't want the other dudes here, trust me

[y/n] 9:08am: and why not??

[yoongi] 9:11am: just cause. let me know if you're stopping by, ok? i'm free at 4.

[y/n] 9:12am: yoongi, i know you aren't really just texting me about some promos..

[yoongi] 9:14am: i mean i am

[yoongi] 9:15am: listen, i just want you to know that i didn't mean to come off rude or anything last session. i'm sorry, alright? you know i never mean to hurt you, but i also had to be real with you

[y/n] 9:17am: heard you loud & clear.

[yoongi] 9:18am: so coming by later today?

[y/n] 9:20am: sure, i guess so. why not.

[yoongi] 9:21am: kk

[y/n] 9:22am: why do you want me to come by so badly?

[yoongi] 9:23am: just think we need to re-do last session, felt kinda bad

[yoongi] 9:25am: i gotta run, i'm about to be fucking late and i haven't even left the house yet. i'll see u later

You look at your phone in slight disbelief. This was starting to sound a bit like the Yoongi you knew, however, you were still confused as to why he wanted you to come by so badly.

Plus, he didn't even want you to try the other services they had to offer because he felt like he needed to re-do the last session?

He was up to something. Even if he wouldn't say it directly.

But really, you knew it was easy for Yoongi to feel bad. He never liked making you upset in any way possible, never liked making you feel like you weren't worth his time or effort. Because you always were worth it, you were always going to be worth it to him.

When you left the other day, he couldn't help but feel a tad bit guilty about his tone and how he came off. He never intended for it to be that way. Sure, he was hurt. But he wasn't going to fight fire with fire. Seeing you made him miss you, too. He was afraid to admit it, but he'll say it now. He does miss you. He misses how things used to be. And maybe it won't ever go back to that 100%, but he'd enjoy having you back in his life one way or another.

That's why he doesn't want you to try the other services and see his colleagues. They had their own shit going on too, anyway. He tends to be pretty selfish with you, whether he realizes it or not.

Your day goes by stressfully, with this month-long proposal finally being submitted as a final draft to your boss. You had put in so much time and effort into this, fixing every single detail down to the T to make sure it was to his liking. He has you walk through the proposal from beginning to end, suggesting teeny tiny last n minute edits before he tells you that the proposal is beautiful and that it should be good to go after the last corrections have been made.

A relief.

You definitely deserved this massage, especially since you worked so hard, so long, on this shit [that wasn't necessarily even your responsibility] and took the project under your wing with grace.

Waltzing into Blissful Hands a bit before 4PM, the waiting room is a bit more packed than you the past two times you've been here. Yannie gives you a wave, signaling for you to do the same routine before seeing Yoongi. You sit there awkwardly, fiddling with your fingers until you see Yoongi poke his head out from the hallway to give you an 'i'm ready for you' nod. You purse your lips together and follow him to his room— this time, candles lit, incense burning.

"Uh, wow." You set your things aside. "Those smell really nice."

"Figured I'd help you relax a bit more this time." He looks at you. "How are you feeling today?"

"Good I guess, finally fucking finished that proposal I've been working on for months."

"Yeah?" He licks his bottom lip before turning. "That's good. Assuming you're in marketing like you've always dreamed of getting into?" You shrug before walking towards the back divider.

"Mhm." It's quiet for a moment as you switch out of your clothes and get into the robe, gently sitting on the edge of the table while your feet dangle as Yoongi prepares the rest of his supplies. He finally turns and comes towards you, hand brushing the hair away from your shoulder.

"Is it okay if I start with the front today?" He asks you.

"Do you always do that?"

"Sometimes, If I wanna switch it up."

"You know best." He chuckles a bit.

"Lie down, please." He hands you a smaller linen to cover your breasts when you slip out of the robe and lie down in the position he needs you to be in.

"Did you really feel bad for last time?"

"Kinda, yeah. Not gonna lie. Didn't want you to think I was coming off like a dick."

"Maybe just a tad. Understandable though. It's my fault."

"Sorry." He says. "I am happy to see you again, you know?" He says softly. "You always win."

"Win?" You watch as he drips some oil down your arm, eyes locking onto yours as he places the tiny bottle down. He starts to work his hands down your arm and up to your shoulder, to the base of your neck, his touch sending tingles down your spine this time.

"I can never stay mad at you." He says huskily. "After all this time, I didn't think it'd be the same way, but it is."

"Elaborate."

"I—" He sighs a bit, positioning himself right above your head as he drops more oil down your left arm and abdomen. "I was just remembering the times we spent together, that's all."

"I miss it." You simply tell him. You know your eyes should be shut right now, but for some reason, you can't. He doesn't even tell you to, and you know it's his intention when he locks eyes with you during the duration of his warm up. Even as Yoongi turns to grab some of his stones, he still looks at you.

He keeps looking at you.

You swallow the lump in your throat when he takes a stone down your arm, slowly. His body drops a little closer to yours, his chin almost matching your level when he brings it back up and down with the right pressure.

"Does it feel okay?" He asks, close to a whisper, lips only inches away from yours.

"Mhm." You look at him.

"Harder? Softer? Let me know."

"It's perfect, Yoongi."

"Okay." He works your arms before moving the smaller stones to your abdomen. His finger gently brushes over the linen cloth covering your clothed pussy, his eyes flickering back up to you when he catches you slightly flinch. "You okay?"

"Sorry, was just not ready for that."

"I'll take it slow." He says, his hands using the stones as an extension as he kneads and kneads gently into your stomach and abdomen. You weren't sure why, but you were nervous around him. But in a way where you had hoped you were still enough for him. In a way where he'd look at you and still remember how he felt about you back in the day, even if you couldn't get that back. At least he'd remember.

His touch makes your palms sweaty and he feels that when he takes his tiny stones against your palm and places them in between your fingers.

"Nervous?"

"Not really." He smirks.

"You don't have to lie, I can tell Y/N." He gives you a hand massage. "Don't be nervous, okay? I told you I wanted you to relax this time around."

"Okay."

"Gonna move to your legs now." He uncovers your right leg, locking eyes with you once again when he lets the oil drip from your thigh to your inner thigh, even as he continues to move down your leg. His large hands start from your feet, up to your calf and knee before he's kneading your thigh and inner thigh. Your breathing hitches when you feel him getting closer and closer to your heat, only for him to pull away and grab his stones.

"Yoongi?" You panic and call for him even though you don't necessarily know what you're trying to say right now.

"Mhm?"

"T-that felt nice." You recover quickly.

"Yeah?" He focuses the stone in his palm against your inner thigh, watching as you close your eyes momentarily, body feeling heavy but relaxed in his grip. "Good."

And it's like that, it just continues to be a teasing game for the majority of the session. You weren't sure what Yoongi was hinting at during this moment, but god, did he make you feel good. He always knew how to make you feel good, one way or another. The session goes on for the full hour, Yoongi standing near the side of the table as you try to sit up and stable yourself post-mini nap while he worked on your back. He places his hand on your thigh as your cover your body with the linen cloth, brushing your hair back as you sit and get yourself together.

"Yo, are you okay? Was it that bad?" You chuckle.

"Shut up. It felt so nice. I wish I could just lay here forever, seriously." He smiles. "You're really good at what you do."

"Thanks." You look at him and he doesn't say much, but he also doesn't move away. "Guess I'll be seeing you again then?"

"Maybe." You stand, bodies almost pressed together with the way he doesn't move in his position. "I just hope I'm not a bother."

"You've never been a bother. Just wanted you to actually enjoy yourself." He says. The pause lingers for longer than you imagined, and you're not entirely sure what takes over you in that brief moment [although you kinda do], but you move yourself closer to him, lips crashing into his.

He doesn't move away.

He takes the kiss and runs with it, hands coming up to the small of your back to press you flush against him. You can feel the bulge in his pants against your covered core, and suddenly, you want more out of Yoongi. You're just not sure if you could have it the same way you did before—

"Do you know what you're doing right now?" He pulls back slightly, whispering against your lips.

"Think so."

"I don't know if we should be doing this again."

"Then why didn't you stop me earlier?"

"Shit is just going to get complicated."

"It doesn't have to be. What was all that during the session?"

"I was just doing my job, Y/N" He steps back a bit, teeth nibbling onto his bottom lip. "I—yeah." He sets his things aside. "We probably shouldn't." He scratches at his temple, flustered from the kiss because yeah, does he want you. He really does miss you, does miss having that relationship he had with you— keeping you close, having you to himself at one point.

He's not sure why or how these feelings came rushing back, but they did, especially after you laid that kiss on him moments ago. It's like the complete closure you two were looking for never came because it brought you two to this very moment where maybe, you didn't need to close that part off. Maybe, you both didn't need to shut each other out completely for the rest of your lives.

Maybe, it would be better this time around.

But no, Yoongi still gets a little afraid, still is doubtful. He doesn't know anything about your life right now besides you working your dream job. Hell, you could have a man for all he knows and that could all be fucked up and complicated now.

What was he doing?

What were you two doing?

That was always the question, and that's probably the biggest reason why he just had to step away in the first place.

"Um, I'll give you some space to get dressed." He says, clearing his throat. "You can make your next appointment at the front after, okay?"

"Wait, Yoongi—" You watch as he scurries on out, shutting the door behind him and leaving you to your own peace. "Fuck." You run your hand through your hair, dragging the stupid linen cloth along with you to the back divider to get changed. You still hoped you could catch him, so you hurriedly throw on your clothes and grab your bag, not realizing that your wallet had been poking out and fell onto the floor in the midst of your swift motions.

No Yoongi in sight.

You let out a deep sigh, tugging on your bag strap as you walk out and greet Yannie with that same old 'it felt amazing' smile you always give her before walking out of the establishment.

Fresh air. Fresh, fresh air. No tension, no suffocation.

"Rissa, fuck." You call her as soon as you step into your door, tossing off your shoes and throwing your keys aside. "I'm sorry, I know it's probably still stupid early there but I need you."

"What happened?" She sleepily asks, still trying to get some shut eye in before she has to fully wake up for her day.

"I kissed him."

"Oh fuck." She lets out with a laugh. "Ohhh fuck. Wow, yeah, I like waking up to this kinda news."

"No, bad!" You tell her in a whiny tone. "I shouldn't have, and now it's probably gonna be so awkward. I couldn't help it though, I felt like he was teasing me all session and being gentle with me for certain reasons."

"He's a fucking masseuse, Y/N." She laughs.

"He was teasing me!"

"Listen, he probably liked the kiss so much he had to run off and hide his boner." She shuffles in the back. "That boy has always had it for you. I ship."

"Rissa."

"What, you can't tell me that this is out of the ordinary. You two are always so fucking weird about your relationship, especially you. Just get together already!" She yells into her pillow. "You two obviously have always really liked each other and those feelings never went away. Why don't you finally do something about it? I mean, don't you think there's a reason why you two crossed paths again?"

"Ugh."

"Yeah, ugh. You're telling me." She chuckles. "Go for it this time. Please don't hold back and just go for it." You pause, digging through your bag to try and find your wallet. "Hello? All of a sudden you don't wanna say shit." She jokes.

"Wait, oh my god." You start to panic a bit when you realize your wallet is nowhere to be found. "What the fuck!"

"What's wrong?"

"My wallet? It's gone? I don't know if I dropped it or—"

"Did you have it on you when you got to the massage parlor?"

"Yeah, I did." You sigh and run your hand through your hair. "Shit."

"Welp, guess you're going back to see Yoongi." She giggles. "I better hear about him clapping your cheeks when you get back."

"You're too much." You roll your eyes and shake your head. "I gotta go before I lose my shit even more."

"Update me, text me, whatever. I hope you find it, boo. I'm sure it's just there."

"Thanks. I'll keep you posted." You grab your keys, sighing deeply as you slip back into your shoes and head out back to the parlor. It's not as busy as it was earlier, with only two people waiting in the waiting room for their sessions. Yannie is surprised to see you back, questioning whether or not something had gone wrong during your last session. You simply tell her no, and that you were just over to check if your wallet had fallen out in Yoongi's room. Luckily, he doesn't have anyone back there just yet, so she lets you head on back and straight to his room.

No Yoongi again, though.

You peek your head in at first, scanning the room to see if Yoongi may have just been hiding in the corners, but he wasn't there. You welcome yourself into the room anyway, figuring you were harmlessly looking for your wallet. You scan the side of the room thoroughly, checking the sides, crevices, making sure you weren't missing the item as you passed along. When you finally hit the back area, you catch a glimpse of your wallet right underneath the divider, giving you some relief.

"Oh, thank god." You mutter to yourself.

"What're you doing?" You jump, startled at Yoongi's voice as he stands at the doorway with a tangerine in his hand.

"I—uh, dropped my wallet. Didn't realize it until I got home." You raise your wallet and shyly show him.

"Oh." Is all he says.

"Sorry, I'll get out of your way now." You try to rush out but he blocks your path, holding his hand out.

"Wait, you don't have to rush out."

"Kinda want to after earlier." You directly tell him.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't know what to do in the moment." He looks at you, genuinely trying to apologize. "I mean— it happened so fast. I didn't know what to say or do." He stumbles over his own words.

"You shouldn't be the one apologizing."

"Look Y/N, I didn't mean all of that. I didn't mean to lead you on, or anything. It was kinda just.. a defense mechanism for me. It's been so long since we both had been close in that way and I'm afraid you'd pull the same shit."

"Things change, you know? Even though I didn't try before, doesn't mean I wouldn't try this time around." You try to brush past him, but you still aren't successful. "Yoongi, please just let me get home."

"I know things change." He says. "Can we— can we just do that whole thing over?"

"You'd want to?" You cock your head to the side, trying your best to read him.

"I know we both had our own faults in the past and I want to leave that there as much as possible. At the same time, I really missed you and it's been hitting me ever since the first time you walked into this establishment. I don't know what it is about you, Y/N. I don't know if I'll ever figure it out. But I want us to move past that and start fresh, whatever that means. I'd hate to let you slip away again." He looks at you, stares into your soul almost. You don't really know what to say except, you know this feeling all too well. You've felt this for Yoongi for so long, you've thought about him and your relationship with him for so long. He was the one you couldn't stop thinking about, the one who you always managed to ponder 'what if's' and 'maybe's' about.

You're also terrible with words, but you nod anyways. And you finally find the courage to tell him—

"I feel the same way." He gives you a tiny smile before placing his tiny tangerine down on the counter. He gently cups your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss that manages to deepen quickly— so quickly that you find yourself being carried onto the table. Yoongi sits you on the end, hands roaming up your sides before giving it a good squeeze.

"I wasn't sure how to take it earlier, please don't take it personally." He whispers near your jaw as he begins to pepper it with light kisses. You tilt your head back slightly to give him more area to work with, eyes shut and rolling to the back of your head when you feel his tongue glide over your neck and below your ear.

"I'm sorry. I—" You whisper back, trying to explain why you had the sudden urge to kiss him at that moment, but he cuts you off.

"It's fine, you don't need to explain. We're here now, right? Can't necessarily turn back." His lips graze yours as his hand travels down your shirt, tugging on the bottom half to signal that he wants you out of it. "Don't necessarily want to, either."

"Fuck— don't you have someone coming in soon?"

"In about 30 minutes, yeah."

"Yoongi."

"Can make you cum before then, right?" He smirks, finally getting you out of your top.

"Is that on your secret menu?"

"No." He chuckles. "Promise." His hands start to roam over your breasts, giving them a good squeeze while he continues to kiss you passionately— working his tongue in your mouth, sucking on your tongue in between. He tugs on your bottoms, getting you to slip out of them with ease. He feels the wet spot pooling on those thin, black panties you have on and it instantly sends blood rushing to his dick—

The fact that you two still had this affect on each other, he couldn't help himself.

You continue to kiss him roughly, passionately, as you get him out of his own clothes, tossing all the pieces of fabric to various points in the room. He slips you out of your panties, instantly rubbing his thumb against your clit. You let out a quick, muffled moan against his lips, only for Yoongi to pull back and smirk at you.

"Like that?" You nod.

"Why'd you stop?"

"Thought I could make it a little more fun." You watch as he grabs his oil and his smaller stones. "If.. that's okay with you. These were the ones I used on you earlier."

"Okay." You say, close to a whisper, gently bringing your lips back onto his. Your hands snake up his neck to get a good grip on his orange strands, tugging on them lightly as he works his way down to your neck again. He pulls away slightly, locking eyes with you before he spreads your legs wider and lets some drops of oil fall down your abdomen and onto your pussy.

He sees your breathing hitch again, but this time, he takes the stone and presses it against your clit to start massaging the oil around.

"Yoongi, fuck." You breathe out as you sit back a bit further, head tilting in pleasure.

"Can already tell how wet you are for me." He bites onto his bottom lip as he continues to work the stone and oil against your clit, free hand slipping in two fingers to pump in and out of you. If it weren't for the soft music Yoongi had playing in the background, you were sure people passing by could hear how wet you were. Because to Yoongi, all he hears is you. The way your pussy sounds when he works his digits inside, the way you let out soft moans as you sit back and let him do his work.

"Need you inside." You let out breathily as you open your eyes again and watch Yoongi damn near pierce his bottom lip with how quick he's trying to work his magic and make you cum on his fingers.

"Wanna cum for me first?" He says near the surface of your neck, lips grazing below your ear before he takes your earlobe into his mouth and gently tugs back. He works the stone faster against your clit, the pressure enough to have you reaching the edge quicker than expected even if the stone was losing its heat.

"Fuck, yeah— like that—" You whine, working your hips against his motions. "Shit, I'm gonna cum—" In a matter of seconds, you feel your high, body twitching as you finally tip over the edge and call Yoongi's name. He slowly pumps his digits in and out, helping you work through your high until he slowly removes it from inside of you. He smirks, setting the stone and oil aside before grabbing at your jaw.

"Open." You do as told, allowing Yoongi to slip in his fingers just so you could have a taste of yourself. "That's my girl." He says.

"Wanna feel you, please." You beg, watching as Yoongi strokes his rock hard cock before bringing you back closer to the edge of the table and spreading your legs wide open for him.

"I got you, baby. You know I always do. Lay back for me and relax." He says, dropping some oil down the valley of your breasts, your stomach. He takes two stones into his palms, gliding it over your chest and stomach, multitasking to add the right pressure through his hands while he takes a hardened bud into his mouth and tongues it in circular motions.

"Oh my god—" You whine, feeling him move onto the next nipple to repeat the process, his tongue gliding effortlessly over your bud. When he finally feels like he's had enough teasing you and making you beg for more, he leans back, setting his shit aside before giving your clit a good rub. He spits on to your pussy, watching it drip down to meet his cock as he slowly penetrates your entrance. Your mouth falls open, a silent moan releasing. It's been years, but you could never forget how Yoongi always made you feel so good, so fucking full and complete.

"Fuck, missed this." He huffs as he bottoms out. He stays in his position for awhile, afraid to move and release too fast, even though he knows he's on a bit of a time crunch right now. He slowly begins to thrust in and out of you, finding his rhythm after a few strokes. He's careful to make sure he doesn't make too much noise with the table, careful to place his hand over your mouth when he starts to hear you moan loudly again as he picks up his pace.

But all in all, his end goal was to make you beg for more and fuck you into oblivion.

Which, he always manages to do. He manages to do it tonight. He's fucking you so good and so deep that you're screaming his name into his palm, tears spilling over and staining your cheeks. His hand has a tight grip onto your thigh, keeping you stationary as he rocks into you— in and out, in and out.

"Baby shit, you feel so good." He moans deeply, head tilting back in pleasure for a quick moment before he's focused on you and only you. "Gonna make me cum all over you. You want that?" You nod, whimpering a quick 'mhm' into his palm once again while he continues with the momentum he has going. You tap his wrist a few times, signaling that you're about to reach your high again tonight, and he picks up on a quick.

"Cumming—" You manage to mumble.

He sees the way you grip onto his wrist.

Feels the way you're clenching around his cock.

Watches the quick way your chest rises with every breath.

It's not long before he feels you tightening around him, eyes shut as you dig your nails onto his wrist and moan loudly into his hand.

"Fuck, gonna cum with you." He groans. The sight, the feeling, is enough for Yoongi reach his high, quickly pulling out to release his seed all over the surface of your pussy.

"Holy shit." You pant, laying there as you and Yoongi try to regulate your breathing. His hands run up your sides to help soothe you, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips before coming back up to grab a towel near the table.

"You okay?"

"More than okay." He chuckles.

"Let me clean you up." He says, wetting the towel and cleaning you up before helping you up from the table.

"You have like 7 minutes before your next client." He shrugs.

"It's fine, I'll clean up quick." You slip back into your own clothes.

"The stones?" You look at him and point at the table.

"Ah, yeah. I'll sanitize those but I'll probably stash them away for you." You laugh.

"Wow, I get my own set of dedicated stones, huh?"

"Probably better that way, anyway. I have extra, and Yannie can always order more for me." You shake your head.

"Thanks, by the way." You raise your wallet. "Needed this."

"Figured." He fixes his shirt and tucks it into his pants before letting out a breath and walking back towards you. "So, am I gonna see you again?" He pulls you tightly by the waist, keeping you flush against him as you look him in the eyes and smile.

"Just might." He chuckles and nods before caressing your chin and placing a warm, soft peck against your lips.

"Let me know when you get home, alright?"

"Okay. Have a good rest of your shift." You giggle before walking out and leaving him to his peace. Getting home, all you could think about was the sudden turn of events and how you were going to tell Rissa about the shit that just happened.

She'd be fucking ecstatic.

She was.

Not even gonna lie.

You had to pull the phone from your ear a couple of times even though that girl claimed she was going to keep it a minimum since she was supposedly on a team call. And to be quite honest, you liked every bit of it even though it made you flustered at times. You liked it because you finally felt like you could do this right, could do him right. You liked it because it finally felt like things had fallen into place and that the closure you thought you needed didn't have to actually come—

Because now, you and Yoongi could finally move on and move past that grey area, together.

>> 1.5 MONTHS LATER

For days, you and Yoongi had continued to see each other at the parlor, both for hot stone reasons and other reasons, before he was finally seeing you at your place and vice versa. Following those weeks and the next month or so, you had started to see each other outside of work, spending a lot of time together and spending the night at each other's homes. Everything had grown quickly, but at the same time, it only felt natural being that you and Yoongi had known each other and had been in this space before. It almost feels like you two picked up right where you left off, even though the both of you considered this to be a fresh start.

It felt amazing, real, genuine.

Like everything had fallen right into your lap just how it should have. And hell yeah, you learned your lesson from the beginning. You weren't gonna mess this up again.

"Scoot." He smiles when he sees you laying down in his bed with nothing on. You set your phone on his nightstand, gripping the sheets closer to your body when you turn and face him. He slips himself in, immediately pulling you flush against his body before brushing the hair out of your face. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." He lets out a small laugh, giving your side a light squeeze.

"Say it, baby."

"It's just kinda crazy, isn't it?"

"What?"

"This. Us?"

"It's crazy only if you make it crazy." You playfully punch him on the chest.

"Seriously." You pout and he gives in, he always gives in.

"A bit, but I wouldn't think too much of it. Guess this is how it was meant to happen."

"Never got that closure because we never needed the closure." You added.

"Are you happy, though?"

"Of course I am." He looks at you and presses a kiss against your forehead.

"I want you to let me know when you aren't, okay? The last thing I want is for you to be unhappy. Doesn't matter if that means with me or not. I just want you to be honest."

"I know. But, I am." He nods.

"Okay." You lean in and kiss him on the lips just as he turns from shutting off his nightstand light.

"Sleeping already?" You mumble against his lips and he smirks.

"I mean, fuck. Yeah? Was hoping to at least get some sleep tonight." You giggle, gently grabbing at his jaw and pulling him in for another kiss.

"No fuuuun." You whine.

"What'd you have in mind then?"

"Oh, I don't know? Thought we could just stay up and talk." His breathing hitches when he feels your soft hand stroking his cock, hardening by the minute.

"S-stay up and talk, huh?" He lets out a breathy moan when he feels you pump him slowly, grabbing his tip and smearing his pre-cum all over your clit. "Aren't you tired, baby?"

"Nope. We don't have to go all the way, though." You say, slipping his cock in between your legs, enough for it to glide smoothly back and forth between your pussy lips. A low groan emits from his lips, hand gripping onto your ass to keep you close. He sucks onto your bottom lip before biting down and pulling back.

"Always make me feel so good." He whispers, feeling your wetness spread across his length. It's almost embarrassing how quick you can make him cum just by doing this but god, it felt heaven sent. Just being with you, by you, all around you, felt heaven sent.

"I could at least do my part somehow, right?" You giggle, nipping at his chiseled jawline while rocking along his length, picking up your pace at the same time. He feels your tongue swipe against the surface across his throat, making Yoongi let out a moan that has him stressing—

"B-baby, gonna make me cum—fuck—" His pants getting heavier, cock twitching underneath you. You glide slowly, feeling his tip brush up against your clit before sliding back down before picking up your pace again.

"Gonna cum with you." You whisper, feeling yourself tipping over the edge with every move you make at this point. When Yoongi finally lets himself go, it's mid-kiss and he's having to grip your waist tightly as he releases white ribbons messily all over your legs and in between. You tremble in his grip, allowing yourself to fully let go as well while he holds you close.

"That felt so good, princess." He presses a kiss against your temple, holding you close to him as you come down from your own high. He grabs a few napkins from the nightstand to clean you both up nicely before he's tossing it into the trash can and shutting his eyes when his body crashes back onto the mattress.

"Yeah it did." You throw your leg over him as you lay on his chest and listen to his heartbeat slowing down. "Are you really gonna sleep?"

"Baby." He laughs. "Yes?! As much as I love you, you fucking wear me out. Sheesh." You chuckle.

"Fine."

"Goodnight. Expect me to wake you up bright and early though."

"Mhm." You tease as he kisses the top of your head. As promised, Yoongi does wake you up very bright and early for another round. And you loved these moments with him, you loved it even more now because he was yours and you were his. No more of that bullshit, that fuckbuddy-no-strings-attached-but-kinda-strings-attached grey area you both had going on for years.

It just felt right.

When the both of you split ways in the morning for work, you figured you'd visit him during his lunch just to spend more time with him [as if you didn't already]. Rissa calls you while you drive over to the parlor just as she makes her way to the airport as her work trip finally comes to an end.

Not only was Yoongi yours, but your bestfriend was finally coming home.

Yeah, shit felt right.

"You better tell him I'm coming over as soon as I reach the airport so I can tease the hell out of both of you."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I'm so happy. Fucking finally. I get to come home. I get to spend time with my bestfriend. I get to see her happy. Maybe I'll finally find somebody to mess with at Blissful Hands, too."

"Please." You laugh. "Don't even start."

"Can't promise." She squeals. "I'm excited. I'll text you as soon as I'm on my way over, alright?"

"Oh, you were serious?"

"Yeah I fucking was, you better make room for me. Yoongi can wait." You nod.

"Alright, alright. Speaking of him, I just got here. Have a safe flight, okay? I love you."

"I love you too!" You end the call and tuck your phone into your purse before heading into the establishment.

"Goodmorning Miss Y/N." Yannie smiles at you.

"Hey!"

"He's on his lunch in the back."

"Cool, thanks." You say, heading back towards Yoongi's room. On the way over, you see his colleagues getting ready for their own clients. One smiles at you [Taehyung or was it Namjoon?] while the other mumbles to him—

"Great, gonna have to hear him fuck her brains out again." Which you catch on the way to Yoongi's, making you giggle to yourself before you greet your man and shut the door behind you.

tags: @spideyjimin @miinoongi @thebeebi @ggukkieland @bluesharksandfish @unicornbabylover @preciouschimine @codeinebelle @shesoldbutcute @jikookiekosmos @awhnamjoon @namjooningelsewhere @bunnybearrj @babycoffeefire @bri-mal @sintaethick @taejkjoons @love2luvya-blog @pb-n-juju @dianaxnyc @fan-ati--c @jungjoonie @jcsmae @favouritesblog @ppeachyttae @awseokjin @jjk1iscoming @moonchild1 @vantxx95 @genzslayer @knjeuphoria @jksjx @oogawooga222 @yoonqki @halesandy @chimchimmarie @deliciousdetectivestranger @lookhere-2seok @persphonesorchid

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moochi-daisies · 7 months

Text

2012. 07.

- 18+, Minors DNI

- Content Contains: smoking, some more kisses, a few tears (but it'll be ok the story isn't over yet)

- Length: 7.2k words

- In Summation: Two people fall in love, which would make a much shorter story if they had better communication skills.

- Side Notes: *the edits finally saved!!! i'm happy with it now i hope you like it haha* this chapter concludes the "how we met" part of the story, thank you for reading! and i hope you enjoy <3 :)

Find the rest here!

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I woke up with my head resting on Yoongi's chest, our hands that we fell asleep holding still intertwined. It must have been early, not a hint of light shining in through the window. I didn't want to wake him, ok more than that, I didn't want to move away from him.

His body was warm, the beats of his heart pumping against my ear, keeping me drowsy.

It felt so right.

Being close to him like this.

The arms holding hands were pressed underneath us. It should've been uncomfortable but my other arm was draped across his torso, his free arm wrapping back against mine and holding my elbow. Small twinges of pain were numbed by fingers unconsciously rubbing against my forearm.

Ever so slightly, I tucked my chin and snuggled deeper against his chest. Inhaling deeply.

The scent of cedar-wood and honeyed tobacco swirled up through my head, almost making me dizzy.

Trying my best to will myself back to sleep, I shut my eyes. Cementing the feeling of him holding me into memory, taking note of how his ribs pressed softly against my chest. How the bones of his hips nestled into the softness of my stomach.

The hand holding mine gripped tighter, the fingers wrapping along my elbows pressing firmly as his muscles contracted.

"Oh goddammit my arm is all tingly" his sleepy morning voice was deeper than usual. Yoongi's head tilted, speaking into the top of my head. Breath blowing heat onto my skull and raising goosebumps down the back of my neck.

I didn't move but squeaked out a small, "I'm sorry". My lips rubbing against his pectoral muscle as I did.

There was a pause.

Neither of us moving.

When he spoke next the words came out gently, "It's okay. Lemme just-" wiggling his fingers out from mine he pulled his arm from underneath us and let it wrap around my upper body, hand falling to my waist.

My shirt had drifted up, the skin on skin contact pulling my heart into my stomach.

I felt short of breath as goosebumps raised along where he was touching me. He must've assumed it was from the cold, lifting his hand to pull the blanket over me before settling his hand back down on top of it.

I swallowed down disappointment.

My fingers took a stronger hold around his waist and the ones he had around my elbow slid along my forearm, tracing lazy circles.

Soft snores came from him as he fell back to sleep, and I joined him shortly after.

The feeling of his hand holding the back of my head woke me back up. I don't know how much later it had been but the grey light from outside was now filtering in through the window. His fingers were bunching lightly, massaging my scalp absentmindedly.

A sudden awareness of drool pooling along the corner of my mouth snapped me out of my drowsiness.

My hand that had been across his body was now clutching his shirt, fingers curling into the collar.

I lifted my chin and he pressed his own down into my hair, "You wanna have some coffee and a smoke?" he murmured.

I nodded my response.

He pulled me tightly against him with a low groan before stretching his arms out.

I knew we had to move to get out of the bed but part of me wished we could've stayed glued in that position. Part of me wished we could've found a way to materialize onto the front porch couch without ever disconnecting from each other.

Sitting up, we both looked at each other. The shy smile on his face twisting my insides. I wanted to grab hold of him, to press soft kisses over his cheeks until he pushed me away. I wanted to believe he wouldn't push me away, but pull me into a deeply passionate kiss instead.

What happened in reality, was that we both looked down.

"I've never invited someone to see me play a show like this before" he said, looking down at the lumps in the blanket where our legs were. "I wanted to make it worth coming all the way here for" he finished, lips pulling back on one side.

"This whole trip has been worth it" the words flew out of me without thinking, "Meeting you, I mean. Um, meeting everyone too. You were worth the 13 hour ride, I'd do it again if you let me.". I tried swallowing after closing my mouth, finding it dry.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, the side-smile pulling into a full one across his face.

"Next time, I'll come to you. How about that, ok?" Chuckling softly, he didn't wait for a response and turned to grab a hoodie.

He wants to see me again?

There's gonna be a next time?

He would make the trip out, all the way, just to see me?

The happiness burned through my ribcage, heat rising up to my cheeks.

I sat there smiling to myself until I looked up and realized he had been standing there looking at me.

There was a fondness in his gaze, "Cute. C'mon" he waved his hand, waiting for me to join him.

Scrambling out of the bed, I pulled on my bunny jacket and grabbed his denim one.

"I like that you've been wearing that so much" he said casually, turning to walk down the hallway. "It smells like you now.".

My foot tripped on nothing at his words and I fell against his back.

Looking back towards me confused, I took a full step behind me and shoved my hands into the jacket pockets.

"Haha, clumsy. Thank you for lending it to me, it's been a lifesaver" I spoke the words without hearing them. Wandering thoughts of when he had smelled the jacket, what he thought I smelled like, if my scent had an affect on him too, all churning through my mind.

Smirking he turned to continue towards the kitchen and I blew out some air towards the hair that had fallen in front of my face. It floated briefly before I tucked it behind my ears. Folding my arms around the middle of my body, I followed behind him.

The house was eerily quiet, the most silent it had been since my arrival.

Jungkook lay sprawled on the living room couch, his body sinking into the cushions. Yesterday's events began playing like a mental movie reel and I choked on nothing.

I wanted to cover him with a blanket, to tuck him in and kiss his forehead. How often did he fall asleep like this?

His closed eyes screwed up tightly and his nose wrinkled. Pouting his lips and furrowing his eyebrows.

Yoongi didn't turn around but paused under the doorway to the kitchen. Deciding against my urge to cover Jungkook, I walked up behind Yoongi and hooked my chin over his shoulder.

It shook underneath me as we both tried stifling laughs.

Jimin and Tae were both still on the kitchen floor. Tae now flat on his back and Jimin curled up against his chest. Jimin hadn't let go of the pan handle and Tae now had a grip on the other side of it.

"These two are fuckin' ridiculous but I love them" Yoongi mused as he tiptoed into the kitchen. Making his way around the scattered pans on the floor to the coffee pot. I stayed where I was.

"How long have you known them?" I asked quietly.

"Hmm, Jimin I've known since middle school. And I guess I met Tae at the same time. They've known each other since elementary school. Kind of a two for one deal" Yoongi responded. Grabbing a bag of coffee beans and a grinder, he grimaced.

"They're gonna be pissed at me for making loud noises." and I snorted out a laugh.

"Doesn't matter that they're the ones sleeping in the kitchen, huh?" I said teasingly and Yoongi chuckled to himself before shaking his head.

"Nope. Sorry though- hang on a sec.".

He filled up the grinder with beans and pressed the button, turning to stare directly at Jimin and Tae on the floor.

Groans from both of them rivaled the volume of sound coming from the grinder.

"I am so weak." Tae moaned pathetically, releasing his grip from the pan to flop his arm over his eyes.

"Yoongi, you are so cruel" Jimin added, just as pitifully.

Yoongi and I caught eyes, both of us grinning.

"Yeah well, you're the dumbasses sleeping on the kitchen floor. You know I do this every morning" he shot back.

Tae and Jimin both started up with their retorts and I turned back to glance at Jungkook, who seemed blissfully unaware. Slumbering soundly through the commotion.

Jin, Hobi and Namjoon came into the living room. With mussed up hair and crusty eyes, they yawned as they shuffled through.

Hobi and Namjoon grumbled out sleepy "good mornings" as they entered the kitchen. Jin paused, leaning down onto my shoulder.

"I'm. So. Hungover." he said weakly. I let out a sympathetic "aw" before reaching back to pat his head. Unintentionally hitting his face with my hand instead.

"Ow!" letting out a whine, he stood up and held his face. Yoongi letting out a belly laugh as I tried apologizing.

"Thought you'd comfort me in my time of need, no need to get violent" Jin said dramatically and walked over to the small table that was against a wall of the kitchen. Slumping into one of the chairs he moaned, stretching his body over the table surface.

"We're just a cheery bunch this morning aren't we?" Namjoon joked, spacing out after as he leaned against a counter.

Hobi started poking Tae and Jimin with his feet. Eliciting loud complaints from them while they rolled around on the floor.

Yoongi had turned his back towards me, pulling coffee cups out of cabinets and chatting quietly with Namjoon.

I turned back to the living room towards Jungkook. Grabbing a blanket I quickly threw it over him, tucking it in around his shoulders. One of his hands shot out to grab mine, startling me.

One eye squinted shut, the other peeked open to find my face.

"I like waking up to this" the words came out softly. Surprise melted away into something that clutched my heart and squeezed it fiercely.

Shaking his hand from mine, I brushed his hair back from his forehead. His fingers drifted down to my leg to wrap around my knee. Hugging it closer, he turned onto his side and sighed before falling back asleep.

"C'mon guys move" Yoongi's voice grumbled from the kitchen. Panic reared it's head, my palms growing clammy as I tried gently prying Jungkook's hand away from my leg. Yoongi stepped into the living room moments after I had succeeded.

I could feel the redness on my face while Yoongi's eyes traveled down to Jungkook and back up to meet mine.

Making a look of faux suspicion, he let out a small "hm" before jerking his chin towards one of the coffee mugs in his hands.

I stepped forward to grab it from him, the fear of him seeing me care for Jungkook swiftly replaced with the nervousness of seeing him up close.

The expression on his face was serious but not angry. Onyx pools penetrating, like he was reading my mind to learn what I was doing instead of asking.

I took in some air, opening my mouth to explain before my breath was caught in my chest.

Yoongi tilted his head slightly, brushing the tip of his nose against mine.

"Lessgo" he said softly.

And with that, we both walked out the front door.

I still hadn't adjusted to being greeted by the icy morning air. The tip of my nose burning from the cold within seconds of exposure. My muscles felt stiff as I sat on the front porch couch, shoulders tensed and risen in an attempt to warm my neck.

Yoongi sat next to me, throwing a leg over my own and an arm around my shoulders to pull me towards him.

Time ceased to exist whenever he touched me. Each moment feeling drawn out and amplified.

I was getting too used to this.

Addicted might even be a better word for it.

It was like the world only spun the right direction while he was close to me. Whenever he pulled away, atoms began bouncing around in chaotic patterns, drowning out any sense of order.

Fingers dipping softly under my chin to lift it, a cigarette was placed between my lips before getting lit for me.

He lightly stroked the backs of his fingers along the side of my face afterwards, a sense of relaxation about him that hadn't been there the days prior.

Sighing, he turned to light his own. Holding it between two fingers, he grabbed the coffee cup he had placed on the side table. Perching it on his knee.

We both took drags and small sips in silence. This moment of peace falling around us like a protective bubble.

"I don't want to go back home" the words came out of me unplanned.

"I don't want you to either" his response was quiet, almost a whisper.

"It feels right with you here" he added. And I could feel my heart soaring, growing bigger and pushing against the cavity it was nestled in. Trying it's best to float free.

"Yeah, this feels right" the words were barely audible. I could feel a flush growing on my cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold.

After a few more sips and puffs he let me know he had tried to get off work for the day, but to no avail. I listened as he told me that he had dropped out of college to pursue music, working some shifts at the music store Hobi's dad owned, some part time shifts at the convenience store where Tae worked, bartending some nights at the venue we were at last night.

I was in awe of his dedication to his passion. Of all he was doing to make his dreams come true.

I felt inspired to pursue my own dreams the same way, believing for the first time that they weren't just silly dreams. That they weren't unrealistic, if I made the effort to make them a reality.

I felt a sickening lurch in my stomach, at the thought of him working with Lacey. Of them bonding over crappy customers and laughing over inside jokes.

I tried to focus on how incredible he was, asking questions about what led him to music.

He had always dreamed of it, he told me. There was a feeling deep within him, a satisfaction that only came from making songs. A pride he felt in creating them from scratch.

"A song in your heart you just had to get out?" I said jokingly.

He flashed a gummy smile before looking off into the distance. "Yeah, something like that" he said, lost in thought.

I wanted to make him smile like that every day, I wanted to inspire happiness. Staring at him as he looked at nothing, the curve of his nose was beautiful.

The outline of his lips.

The soft roundedness of his cheeks.

I felt in love with him.

Shaking the thought out of my head, he turned back towards me. A serious look on his face as he leaned back, holding me firmly against him.

"Lacey wanted to know what was going on with us last night. I told her I'm not interested in dating her. That I'm interested in someone else." his words were calm but strong.

My eyes widened in shock and got a small laugh out of him.

"You can't be that surprised. Is this how you are with all of your friends?" his question had me taken aback.

"No...I'm not like this with anyone" chewing on my lip, I thought of my words carefully. "I guess, I didn't want to get my hopes up until you said it.".

A look of exaggerated confusion spread across Yoongi's face, "Said it? Hm, said what? I don't know what I said..." and I shoved against his shoulder with a giggle.

Smiling, he looked down at his now empty coffee mug.

"Look, I know Jungkook likes you too. I believe that you like me and I'm not gonna tell you what to do. Maybe just-" he paused, his lips pressing together in concentration, "Maybe just talk with him while I'm at work or something ok? I'll be back in a couple hours and will be here to take you to the bus. I promise.".

"I'll talk with him. And I wish- I really wish I could spend more time with you before I leave. But I'll be excited to see you when you get back" the honesty of the conversation lifted a weight off both of us.

Turning his head, he leaned in and pressed the sweetest kiss against my cheek.

Without looking at me afterwards, he stood up and walked back inside.

I stayed on the couch for a minute more. Everything we had just talked about weaving and bobbing through my head.

There was no time to reflect on how it all made me feel or what all of it meant however.

Jin, Jimin, Tae and Jungkook all came yawning out of the front door, spreading out onto the porch.

Everyone reached for cigarettes, placing coffee mugs down and finding places to sit.

Jimin and Tae both sat in a rocking chair that was on the other side of the side table. Tae held Jimin in his lap, leaning against his back with bloodshot eyes, blinking blearily. Jimin sat with a tight hold on Tae's arm, a spaced out look on his face that lifted his eyebrows.

Jin sat on the side of the couch closest to the side table, elbow propped against the arm rest and leaning his forehead against his hand. His legs spread wide as his spine curled against the back of the couch.

Jungkook sat between Jin and I, looking more alert than the rest and clearing his throat. He followed Jin in leaning back, legs spreading wide as he scratched at his stomach.

His puppy eyes were round as he stared blankly ahead. The oversized flannel slipping off one shoulder, defined muscles of his chest exposed.

I let out a huff of annoyance, "How are you not freezing?" I grumbled and turned to pull his shirt up.

A cocky side grin on his face, he reached into a pocket to pull out his cigarettes.

"Distracting you, am I?" he winked.

I frowned and opened my mouth to retort. He placed a cigarette in the opening and I closed my lips around it before he lit it for me.

"You can't just shut me up like that" I glared at him and he laughed.

"Works when Yoongi does it though. Also, I've got a perfectly good jacket for you right here you know. Borrow mine sometime" I could feel a bite from his words as he grabbed a cigarette of his own.

Someone woke up feeling confident.

Jimin was getting out smokes for him and Tae, eyes locked on Jungkook's face.

"Slow down there lover boy" he muttered. Cigarette dangling between his pursed lips, he looked like an adorable grumpy duckling.

He turned to give one to Tae, who kept his eyes closed while opening his mouth. A small "hmph" of agreement came out of Tae and Jimin nodded to himself.

Jin spoke up next, yelling his complaint, "Why am I the only one getting my own cigarette?". The rest of us laughed in response. His expression souring before he covered his face with a hand.

Standing up, I walked around in front of him and took the one he was limply holding in his lap.

Sticking it between his puffy lips, I struggled to light it. Hands freezing from the cold.

"Got it!" I congratulated myself, earning a weak round of "yay's" from the guys.

Conversation was slow, mostly discussing plans for the day. We all took turns moping over my departure later in the evening. Jimin and Tae tried to lift the mood by assuring me that they'd already started to plan when they could all come visit me next.

"Yoongi asked us about it last night, don't worry, you're not getting rid of us that easily" Jin said before blowing smoke up towards the sky.

"I never wanna get rid of you guys, I want you all to get on the bus with me" I griped.

The words did bring comfort though, that they all wanted me around as much as I wanted them.

Hobi poked his head out of the door, "Namjoon and I made breakfast. Who's hungry?" he quipped before dipping his head down to take a drag of my cigarette.

"Ugh, nasty." he grimaced after exhaling, "one day we're all gonna quit. Right guys?" and the others rolled their eyes, a chorus of "yeah yeah yeah's" ringing out.

Everyone leaned over to the ashtray before moving to go inside, stretching and making sleepy noises as they did.

Jungkook and I stayed where we were, explaining we'd be inside soon before the door closed shut.

The second the others were away, Jungkook's hand slid over my thigh. I told myself I needed the warmth and wrapped my arm under his, clinging to his jacket. Pushing my nose into his shoulder.

"Yoongi said we should talk" I mumbled into his sleeve, my voice slightly nasally from my mushed up nose. "About how he likes me and um, that he won't tell me what to do with you." I couldn't hide the sadness in my tone.

I didn't think I was sad, hearing those words from Yoongi had made me so happy I felt close to bursting.

Repeating them to Jungkook though, feeling his body against mine again, I couldn't help the regret burrowing a pit within me.

"It's okay. Ha, I wanted to call you baby just now" he snorted, leaning his head back against the wall behind the couch. I clenched his arm and looked up at him.

A protruding vein along his neck showed his pulse. The feeling of the muscle under my tongue seared through me and I lowered my head back to press against his bicep.

"Look, I'm really glad you came. And uh, I can't say I'm rooting for you two. But Yoongi is like a big brother to me, I want him to be happy. Don't forget about me though" he chuckled as he said it, "If things don't work out, I'm not gonna forget about you just like that.".

I pushed myself off his shoulder and slammed a hand flat against his chest, turning my body to look into his eyes.

A weakness fluttered in the base of my throat, he really was handsome.

Pushing one finger out to poke at him, I huffed indignantly, "I'm not gonna forget about you either Jungkook. If I had come here to see you, or talked to you first- this would be an entirely different situation. Also, you're not just a back up plan for if things don't work out with Yoongi. My feelings for you are separate and have nothing to do with him.".

He lifted an eyebrow at the end, a boyish grin growing.

"So you do have feelings for me!" he wiggled his eyebrows. I rolled my eyes, laughing and untangling our arms. Quietly groaning an "oh my god" I pushed my shoulder against his before standing up.

He followed after me, threading both arms through mine and clasping hands together around my stomach to hug me from behind.

I froze for a moment before turning, throwing my arms around his waist and squishing my cheek against his chest. Strong arms wrapped around my shoulders, a kiss pressing against the top of my head.

"I have feelings for you too" he said, cocky tone evaporating. The sincerity in his voice cracked through the resolve I had to leave it at a hug.

I lifted my head to look at him, our eyes mirroring the care and sadness we both felt.

His eyelids lowered with mine following. Bringing our lips together, the first kiss was slow and full of longing. Mouths opening against each other as we both sighed.

"Oh" Jungkook breathed out, voice small and sounding on the verge of tears.

There was nothing I could say to help him feel better, so I kissed him again. Stronger this time, with a promise I didn't have the words for.

By the third kiss, I could feel the hunger Jungkook had been trying to keep at bay.

Unlike the morning softness that came from being held by Yoongi, Jungkook pressed my body against his with a fervor. The front of my chest meeting his solid frame, the softness of my stomach molding against tights abs. His hips started to buck against me, and I could feel a hardness working to find it's way between my inner thighs.

Panting, and with every ounce of willpower I had, I pulled away.

Jungkook look terrified, holding me by the tops of my arms with a grip so tight I worried bruises might form.

"Fuck, sorry. I'm sorry- I just- it always feels so much better than- I'm sorry" he had pulled his lower body away from me. Leaning his torso forward and looking at me fearfully.

I shook myself out from his grip and tried redirecting the mood. Reaching out to pat the top of his head and making my best effort to appear unshaken, I replied "No, don't say sorry. It's not just you. You feel good to me too". Trying to sell the act, I smiled at him hard enough that my cheeks pushed my eyes closed.

He groaned and turned away from me, a hand covering his face as he did.

"Don't tell me thaaaat. My self control is bad enough as it is. Go inside, I need to uh, calm down." the last part made me giggle. He pouted, trying to shoot daggers at me, succeeding only at looking like a puppy being told "no" for the first time.

"We're ok?" I asked, trying to control the concern in my tone.

His smile was sweet as he nodded back at me, "we're ok.".

Nodding to myself, I turned to head inside.

The others had gathered in the living room and kitchen. On the couch, Tae was laying on Jimin's lap while Jimin dropped pieces of scrambled eggs and bacon into his mouth like a mother bird. Yoongi sat next to them, scrolling through his phone with one hand and a piece of bacon in the other. Jin had assumed the same position on the living room couch that he had been in outside, the food on his plate was untouched, balancing on his lap.

My stomach was full of feelings that were playing dodgeball with an active grenade.

Sitting between Jin and Yoongi, I kept my arms straight by my sides and exhaled as evenly as I could manage.

Yoongi dropped his phone to put a hand on my knee, turning to wiggle his piece of bacon in my face.

I took a small bite, forgetting how I normally took bites of anything, self consciously wondering if my teeth looked normal as I did.

Yoongi finished the rest before standing up and announcing his departure for work.

Jin's eyes lifted open and he waved a hand in his direction.

Tae and Jimin gave waggled limps wrists as their goodbye's, Hobi and Namjoon both yelling out "see you later's" and "work hard bro's".

Feeling antsy, I took Yoongi's plate from him, offering to clean it and he gave back an appreciative smile.

I felt like a ghost as I walked towards the kitchen. The reality that there were only hours left with them all was doing it's best to suck away at the joy I'd experienced.

Well, I'd experienced a lot more than just joy here, hadn't I?

An entire spectrum of emotion that I normally had to search so hard to find. Tucked away in this cozy corner of the universe.

The plate slipped out of my fingers as I got lost in existentialist ramblings.

It clattered loudly into the sink and I yelped in surprise. Hobi screeching with me and Namjoon letting out a bellowing "why". I quickly said sorry before the thought of not saying bye to Yoongi activated my fight or flight response.

He's about to leave!

When he comes back, it'll be to take me to the bus stop.

He can't leave without me saying goodbye, what if something happens and he can't come home before I have to go?

What if this is, goodbye?

I hurdled myself out of the kitchen, to see Yoongi putting on his shoes.

He stood up as I was walked over, looking at me with concern. "What did- oh!" he started before I threw my arms around his neck in a hug.

He hugged me back while softly laughing to himself. Our bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces.

Time slowed and the chaos of my thoughts straightened out into a coherent line.

Not wanting to end the hug I whispered into his ear, "Have a good day at work.".

I could hear the smile in his voice as he responded, "Thank you, I'll see you soon right?" and I nodded. Squeezing me a little tighter before letting me go, he turned and walked out the door.

I stayed in place for a moment.

The emptiness that came from him leaving whooshed through me, my body feeling hollow.

Instead of returning to the couch, I lay directly down on the floor. Finding difficulty with breathing on my back, I rolled over, resting my forehead against my arms.

Sucking in air through my nose for 4 counts, I held my breath for 5 before exhaling out a loud groaning sound for 6.

Breathing technique complete.

I still felt terrible.

"I take it you're gonna write about this aren't you?" Jin's teasing comment smacked me on the back.

"Shut up." I groaned into the carpet.

"Maybe you are Yoongi's soulmate and not mine after all, dearest" Tae said amused.

My hands clenched into fists before relaxing.

Jungkook came in through the front door, pausing when he saw me on the ground.

"Yeah she's good" I heard Jimin say, "her writing has just been inspired.".

I sat up at that and whipped around to face him, narrowing my eyebrows and sticking out my tongue. He blew me a kiss back.

The rest of the day went by slowly, the guys had the day off from work and were all too hungover to do much.

Jungkook resumed playing his game, Jin half-asleep half-watching him. Jimin joined me on the floor and we stretched together before he curled up to take a nap. Tae also joined in on the floor after dragging various painting supplies over.

He gave us each a canvas, showing me different techniques as we painted.

He was at the same college as Jimin and the others, getting a Fine Arts degree. He really hated school he shared with me, but he wanted to appease his parents. A sentiment we both shared.

Hobi and Namjoon came out to the couch to join us, Hobi scrolling on his phone and Namjoon working on some paper that was due next class.

I didn't want to leave.

The thought played on a loop throughout the day. It wasn't until Jin got up to make dinner that the loop was put on hold, as I trudged into the kitchen to help him. Hoping for a distraction from my obsessively repetitive thought cycle.

"Told ya he liked you." Jin's sudden remark pulled me out of my wallowing.

I paused, mid-onion chop and he giggled at the look on my face.

"Yeah, yeah" I grumbled, "I'm so happy I live so far away.". The sarcasm in my voice dripped into the air.

"Oh hey now, we meant it when we said we were planning to come see you. The distance sucks but it's not- you know" Jin waved his hands around, "It's not the end.".

Putting down the knife I walked over and smushed my face against the side of his arm, hugging him and mumbling out my thanks.

He reached an arm across to pat my face.

"See how I did that without smacking you?" he teased and I broke away from him laughing. Tsking slightly as I went back to chopping.

Yoongi came home a few minutes before dinner was ready. Unwrapping his scarf from his neck and toeing off his shoes.

He was grumbly, the annoyance showing clearly across his face as he walked over to one of the seats surrounding the kitchen table.

The day had not gone well, customers ignoring his advice and spending absurd amounts of money on instruments for kids that clearly had no interest in pursuing music.

"The amount these parents drop on these shitty ass kids is asinine" he griped, stewing, "And the kids are so ungrateful. They have no idea what they're getting and it'll probably all just go to waste, unused. So fuckin' annoying.".

I nodded sympathetically, Jin throwing in some comments about how at least Yoongi wouldn't have to worry about them being future competitors in the industry.

"Yeah" I chimed in, "you know the work it takes and the commitment required to make it. Nothing you have is going to waste, if they don't wanna listen to you that'll just be their regret later. Not your burden to carry.". He smiled at me, Jin smirking as he walked to the living room to let the others know the food was ready.

We all slipped into different conversations as we ate, more somber than we had been. My leaving was looming over us, unavoidable as soon as dinner was over.

Silverware scraped against empty bowls as we finished, silence enveloping the group.

"Can't you just stay another day?" Tae broke the silence with a whine, "It's not fair, you just got here!" and the others murmured in agreement.

I'd been sitting on the floor in front of the couch between Tae and Yoongi. Flopping my head onto Tae's knee, "I really, really don't want to go" I tried not to cry as I said the words.

"We're coming to you next" Namjoon's voice was like a hug, "Don't you forget it." he finished.

"Don't you forget it either" I tried joking, unable to look at any of them. "I better get my stuff", I pushed myself up to head towards Yoongi's room, only partially registering the hushed whispers that broke out behind me as I left.

After I returned, everyone had stood up and made their way to the front door. Tugging on jackets, scarves and hats. Tae had a handknit bucket hat with a giant flower flopping along the brim. Tears welled behind my eyes, the love for them all pushing against my vocal chords.

"Love you guys" I exclaimed, tears bursting out of me as I did. My chest heaved but felt too tight to take a full breath. Trying to calm myself down, I inhaled deeply through my nose. Blinking hot tears and feeling them trickle down my cheeks.

The guys all turned towards me, responding with "aw's" and "love you too's". Yoongi crossed over to me, wiping the tears away with his thumb and pulling me into a hug with a small laugh. Jungkook behind him clenched his fists by his side, turning to look at the front door, away from us. After Yoongi pulled away, Jimin and Hobi yanked me between them. Keeping arms around my shoulders, they walked me out the door.

"Sweetie don't worry" Hobi pressed his cheek onto the top of my head. "A lot happened here huh?" and I clung to the back of his jacket with a vice grip.

"How about...you write a story about us and I'll make a dance about you. Yeah?" Jimin's cheeks pressed his eyes closed as he smiled at me.

"You guysss" I warbled out. Dangerously close to completely breaking down into sobs.

When we got into the car this time, Jimin and Tae mushed themselves into the passenger seat. Yoongi sat where I had been behind the driver's seat. Hobi, Namjoon and Jungkook folded into the back seat with us. I sat on the floor by Yoongi's feet, my hands wrapped under his leg and resting my cheek against his knee.

He kept a hand on my head the entire drive, gently stroking the back of it and smoothing out tangles with his fingers.

Jin drove slowly, taking extra time at stop signs and buying moments wherever he could.

We still arrived at the bus stop too quickly.

Standing around the car, I looked at the faces in front of me.

"Thank you so much for everything, this whole trip. It means a lot more to me than I know how to express" my voice was shaky as I spoke.

"Oh c'mere" Jin rolled his eyes teasingly at me, reaching an arm out and yanking me into a fierce hug. Namjoon was next, it was like hugging a soap scented teddy bear. Hobi danced his way over, making a little "woop" sound effect as he hugged me. "Muah, muah, muah!" he kissed the side of my head and rubbed my back before I was passed off to Jimin.

Jimin tilted his head, a knowing and loving look in his eyes as he wrapped me up into his gentle embrace. "Don't think you aren't special to us too." he whispered quietly in my ear. His eyebrows lifted as I looked towards him, trying to comprehend what he meant.

"TAKE ME WITH YOU!" Tae cried as he tackled me into his arms. Rocking back and forth, he squeezed me so tightly I couldn't lift my own to hug him back. Giving up, I giggled and joined him in the theatrics. "COME WITH ME MY LOVE!" I yelled, pulling back to see tears glinting in his eyes, we smiled at each other.

Jungkook stood waiting, silently. Tongue flicking around his lip rings. Looking up at me, he winked and curled his lips back into his cocky grin. "Don't miss us too much." he said, a fist gently tapping me on the shoulder. I rolled my eyes with exaggeration, stepping closer to hug him. He held me softly, before clearing his throat and shaking his head.

As he dropped his arms, he slid his hand underneath my arm. Catching my hand in his grip for a moment. Squeezing tightly once, sadness flashed behind his eyes and he turned away. Hunting in his pockets for a cigarette. The clenching in my chest ached and I chewed on the inside of my cheek. Unable to go after him, unable to say anything more.

Giving them all a small wave, I turned to Yoongi who had his hand outstretched for me to take. Grabbing it, he walked me over to the bus station building, tucking behind a brick wall so that we were out of sight from the rest of the group.

The wall blocked out the light from the streetlamp, our shadows disappearing as we stepped across the pavement.

Stopping, he faced me. Our faces only inches apart.

"I just, wanted to do this before you left" his deep voice rattled through my nerves. His dark eyes were traveling slowly, up and down my face with such intensity it felt like being touched.

My breath caught in my chest, overtly aware of every sensation my body was experiencing.

I could see his chest lifting as he took a breath. I felt the warmth of his hand on the side of my face before he reached it, cupping it softly. Long fingers covering most of the length, pressing down slightly to pull me towards him.

It happened in slow motion and at the speed of light.

The dip of his cupid's bow and pinkness of his lips fully defined, even in the darkness.

His lips were so soft against mine, I couldn't get the satisfaction of feeling that they were ever close enough. My hands jumped to his collar, dragging his body into mine. His free hand took gentle hold of my waist as his feet stepped closer.

Pulling his face back, a devilish smirk gleamed as he rubbed a thumb along my bottom lip.

Almost as a reflex, I stuck my tongue out and bit the tip of it lightly. The widening eyes and expression on his face threatened to unleash something feral within me.

I struggled to breathe, dizzy with the feeling of the kiss and desperate to feel his lips again.

"More please." the words came rasping out of me. My throat feeling raw from the passion it was swallowing back.

He leaned in with more intensity this time, hand sliding down the outside of my hip to cup under my ass. Grabbing at it and opening his mouth against mine.

I sighed into him, small "ah's" and "mm's" escaping me as my hands slid behind his neck. Sliding through silky locks of hair and losing all sense of how tight my grip around him was.

I could feel his heart beat against my chest, my own pounding with a strength that I'd never known it was capable of.

My lower body felt molded against his, the hardening under his jeans becoming a chase my hips hunted to find.

I bit his lower lip, the softness of it drawing out a moan as he sucked in a breath. His tongue pushed into my mouth, dancing with my own.

I had stopped caring about breathing.

I would have gladly taken my last breath there.

The honking of the bus, pulled him away from me. Shaking, I tried to collect myself. His breathing uneven, he laughed to himself softly.

"I've been wanting to do that this whole time." he admitted quietly.

And my body felt strange, drawn back towards him like a magnet.

Holding his face I pulled him in to kiss him again and pushed him back against the brick wall.

Not wanting to stop.

Not being able to stop.

"You're gonna mish your bus." he got out between kisses and I groaned, exasperated.

"I don't want that right now." I huffed impatiently. Not understanding how he could stop so easily.

He cocked his head, seemingly reading my mind.

"I don't want to stop this" his words were gentle, "I want to do this again when I come see you.".

I blinked, remembering where we were.

What was happening outside of the kiss.

That I was heading home.

"Whyy did you wait so long?" I was aware I sounded like a brat but I was sick of holding myself back.

Yoongi laughed, lifting his arms to unwrap his scarf. He pulled me in for another kiss, draping the scarf around my neck as he did.

Stopping before I could deepen it, he side-smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"I was too nervous." he said simply.

Out of all the "what if" games I had played these past few days, "what if he is nervous around me" had never once crossed my mind.

Grabbing my hand after I fell silent, he moved ahead to walk me towards the bus.

Trying to prolong the inevitable, I turned towards him before getting on.

"Well, I'm glad you did. It was worth the wait" I mumbled, "All of this was.".

Yoongi tilted his head at that, pressing one final kiss against my lips. The boys watching from the car broke out into hollering whoops, Tae's voice yelling "Finally!". We laughed, foreheads still close together.

"I'll see you soon." he said, the darkness of his eyes melting as I felt tears stinging my own.

Clearing my throat, and blinking tears back, I sassed out a "You better." before moving away from him. Shooting him a grin, I turned away to walk up the steps onto the bus.

Everything in me was screaming to turn around, to move in with the guys and find a way to make it work after the fact. It took all of my energy to find my seat, my toes scrunched in my shoes, fighting against my urge to turn back and run into Yoongi's arms again.

Sitting down, I looked out to the boys surrounding the car in the parking lot. Just like they had been when I first arrived. 7 hands lifted to wave at me as the bus doors closed with a swooshing sound.

I waved back, my jacket sleeve covering my hand before shaking it down. Deciding not to care how long I waved, I kept waving, watching them until the bus station had completely left my view.

Turning in my seat, I slumped down. A raw ache in my chest yanking on every vulnerable emotion that had risen to the surface. The tears that started falling were hot and fat, the liquid thick enough that it burned as they pushed out from my eyes.

Raising my arm up to wipe them away, I curled my fingers around my sleeve, only to be hit with the realization that I was still wearing Yoongi's jacket.

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violetsiren90 · 9 months

Text

Things That Grow

Pairing: idol!Yoongi x Reader (ungendered)

Genre: drabble; canon-compliant; established relationship; angst and hope; hurt/comfort; emo hours; goodbyes

Summary: You've arrived at Yoongi's place to spend time together before he leaves, but you can't bring yourself to come to terms with the latest change that makes his enlistment all too real.

Content Warnings: PG for content levels, but ALL my works are 18+ (minors dni); angst and sadness; allusions to Yoongi touching you intimately, calling you intimately; grieving enlistment; crying; Yoongi is sweet but sad too.

Author's note: My heart is breaking, so I had to write it out. I wanted this to be longer, but I couldn't do it. It just would have been too gosh darn depressing. So I kept it really short and sweet - a true drabble.

We'll make it through this I know, but I'm still not sure how. 💔

As always, if no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love. The kind of love Yoongi has for you. 🧜‍♀️💜

"Don't be afraid of change - beautiful things can grow if you're willing to let go." - Anonymous

You had been preparing yourself, steeling your nerves, for what was going to greet you as soon as that door swung open. You had hyped yourself up all the way here. You had put on a brave face, kept your chin up, looked on the bright side...did every damn thing they always said you should do in such situations. And yet, here you stood, a bag of takeout in your left hand, your right hovering in front of the door - unable to make your knuckles move toward the black oak. You looked at your raised arm, frozen as if by some bizarre anxiety-induced spell, and noticed that it was shaking. All of you was shaking. And suddenly, you found yourself surrendering to your fears, and sinking down onto the cold cement of the steps as you swiveled your body away from what you had to face behind the door as you dropped the bag beside you and clutched your knees to your chest. Your phone pinged but you ignored it. It pinged again. The September evening breeze wafted over you, pressing around your body as if to insist that moving on was part of the natural order of things. That as sure as the bright revelry of summer would fade into the golden melancholy of autumn, his touch and voice and the color of his eyes would be borne away on the wind with the crinkling leaves and drying flowers.

So consumed were you with your holding back the lump that had risen in your throat, your eyes pressed shut, that you had not heard the door open.

"What are you doing?" came the soft, velvet baritone, followed by a large, slender hand grasping your shoulder in a gentle squeeze of concern.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see the rounded tips of his fingers, and their clipped back nails. You had memorized what they looked like, so particular to him, so lovely, his hands - their milky softness interrupted by prominent veins, cool and blue amidst the warm flush of his knuckles. The pads of his fingers were flattened and calloused with use, and they were strong and nimble as he plucked the strings of a guitar or plied the keys of a piano or pressed and worked them along the tender places of your flesh. You buried your face in your own hands.

"I can't," you whispered shakily. You felt him come to sit beside you.

"What?" he insisted gently, patiently, the firm swell of his chest pressing into your shoulder.

His sigh tickled your neck where he exhaled slowly through his nose, the breath whistling slightly as it sometimes did. Why did you love even those? The little squeaky breathes that meant that he was breathing?

Dammit, you were going to lose it.

"I can't...look at you," you forced out, the heels of your palms pressing into your eyes like little stones in the wall of a bursting dam.

Then came his laugh - the quiet, throaty one, reserved for when he found something impossibly endearing. He ran one of those perfect hands over your back and you melted a little. Just a little.

"Please don't hide from me, nae sarang," he murmured, tilting his head against yours, the round tip of his button nose brushing your ear. "I need to look at you."

You sucked in a breath. You couldn't deny him that. You couldn't deny him anything. So slowly, reluctantly, you raised your face from your hands, and turned to meet his eyes.

And you saw it, what you had dreaded: his hair. Every lovely dark tress was gone, leaving just their roots behind in a tight buzz against his scalp.

The dam broke.

Yoongi held you to his chest amidst his cooing and shushing and reassurances that everything would be alright. When you finally raised red eyes from where they had dampened his shirt, you took him in, choking out another sob as he looked down at you with affection. Every soft feature looked so prominent without their usual frame of dark waves. The sentimental triangles of his feline eyes set wide on either side of his sweet little nose, and his slightly chapped lips taking on a darker and fuller pout. He suddenly looked about twenty to you and you choked out a laugh and a sob at once, reaching up to stroke a hand softly over his crown. His eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting slightly as you caressed him gently and the short hairs tickled the skin of your palm. You sighed another shaky sigh.

"You're beautiful," you relented, sliding your hand down to cradle his soft cheek. "But I hate it."

His pretty lips stretched into an open-mouthed smile. The kind that showed his upper gums. The kind that made your life worth living. He dipped forward to press a kiss to your brow. You had memorized those lips - what they felt like against your own, and the sounds that passed them when he rapped and sang and breathed your name. Now they murmured against your skin.

"It will grow back, you know. It will just take time."

Another tear slipped down the side of your nose.

"Yes, time."

"For some things you just have to wait a little while, and then they come back."

He pressed you back by the shoulders to meet your eyes with his that shimmered and swam as he assured you softly,

"And they do come back, nae sarang. To stay."

-Fin-

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sugarwithtea · 1 year

Text

nobody doesn't know anymore | myg

everyone knows, what loneliness can do to a mind. his mind is something that likes to use negatives, if only to complicate his feelings. yoongi is at the edge, thinking about everything that has built him into the man he is. then what is it that he still craves for? nobody doesn't know — because everyone knows it's not him, but his loneliness thinking.

pairing ; no pairing ft. yoongi

rating/genre ; pg // angst, idol au.

wc ; 1.4k

warnings ; thoughts about past, heavy use of metaphors (forgive me), my bad interpretation of people pt 2, hard childhood, inner turmoil, feelings of grief and loss.

note ; i wrote this so quick. people made me think so so so much. and i am in no way saying that this is what he is talking about in the song, so mind me. it's just that this song inspired me to write this. take this as a disclaimer but m not claiming that these are yoongi's thoughts — these are mine. if you understand what I'm trying to deliver, have my kisses please. listen to people pt 2 ft. iu by agust d for that's what compelled me to write this lol. again, this might not make much sense and idk how I've ended it! also, this is unedited hehe. for we die on this hill.

masterlist | taglist

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Yoongi likes to think he has accomplished a lot in his life, but even that is a lie. And he knows that.

He had a dream when he was in middle school, and the years he had put into achieving it had been lengthy, and stressful. There were stretched moments of happiness too, where he had found himself at peace, proud of himself. But come today and he feels like there's a hole inside him.

He feels hollow. His heart still craves for more.

The dim light of his bedroom falls on his eyes and he breathes easily, taking in the air conditioned air with his eyes fluttering shut.

His mind drifts to his years of being a rebel, always disappointed by the ways of the world, and his lips quirk a little. Oh how foolish he was to think that he will be able to change it, that he will be able to see a place different from the one he has seen. With his eyes closed he shakes his head, thinking about the time he had realized how wrong he was.

The world is not going to change. It has billions of years in the making, and he, a mere man in his twenties, who has hardly seen the depth of the people living in it, has no chance of changing it. People might think he has seen a lot, known a lot, and is familiar with the ways of a lot – but the truth is that his knowledge has always been bound by his interests. He learns about the things he wants to know about, he doesn't go and seek answers for the questions which have never made their way into his mind.

His fingers twitch on his chest. He has always had this innate desire of being at peace. But even now, when he is supposed to feel it, his heart aches for something else. And maybe it's a shot in the dark, but the thought of an emotion that is so raw, but still built with layers of other feelings is what makes him crave for it.

His childhood years were not easy. He hadn't received the love, the support for which he had yearned. He was like a soul treading on, towards the light he had seen at the end of the dark tunnel he was residing in. But after years of his walking in the dark, when he had finally felt the light hit his withered, lifeless skin – he had grimaced and squinted his eyes. It had taken him a long time to get accustomed to that feeling, the raw warmth and the peaceful breeze.

His steps though, they never stopped. He had walked on and on, and had met a few too many travelers on his way, some of them joining him on his journey. Now that he had found the light, he didn't know what he was aiming for. Maybe just sit on the shore he could so clearly see, dip his feet in the sand and have conversations with the ones who had felt him worthy enough to join.

He had reached the shore too, pride swelling in his chest as the sand touched his feet. He had dipped his ankles in the warmth, and had enjoyed the softness. His greed, never ending, had compelled him to walk towards the water, hand in hand with his companion. He had perched himself at the edge, at the line where the warmth of the sand met the cold waves. His feet were no longer dipped in the grains, but in the cold water which washed away any remnants of the warmth he had yearned for.

The calmest of waves, had washed away something he had been wanting for so long. And that had him recoiling from there, leaving his companion's hand and looking back at the water as if he was burned. He was again in the sand, but the grains stuck to his feet, no longer making him feel warm, but irking him. He had run back, forgetting there was someone washing themselves in the waves for him. His selfishness had made him blind, and in his haste he had stumbled and fell on the ground.

That night the tears were thick, rolling down his face like the waves he so despised. For now there was no one to hold his hand and breath his scent – they had already been taken by the calmest of the oceans. The moon in the sky was covered by the clouds, and the only light he saw was a distant lighthouse. But he was tired, and he hated the water, so he made his house on the shore.

Now when he looks out of his window he doesn't see the light, for it had been taken from him the moment he had recoiled from the waves. He thinks he was selfless, because he hadn't brought his partner back, letting them revel in the peace the water provided. But even he knows how wrong he is – how the water did little to ease them, and so much to unnerve them when they saw how it affected him.

He still goes about his day with chivalry. Hoping that someday he will meet someone who will make him feel less lonely.

When he thinks back on that day, he realises he never feared loss, but the dread that came with it. He feared the possibilities, the future that will come with it. Maybe he never truly loved them, but the thought of being alone again was so daunting that he had folded like paper and fell on his knees when he had lost them.

He remembers the sandcastle he had built with them, the one which had been taken down by the calmest of assaults. Later when he had come to terms with the reality of him being alone, he had thought how people were fleeting, how feelings were fleeting. How easy is it to build something with someone, and easier for it to crumble down into nothingness.

So far away, that day, that feeling, that person. Everything is so far away from him, he can do nothing but sigh. When he had though that life was a struggle between revolt and submission, he was wrong. It was a struggle against loneliness. For he had rebelled, and surrendered but never did he understand the true sadness, until he was left alone, all on his own.

With eyes closed and breaths steady, he moves his hand on his bed, searching for his abandoned notebook. He needs to write, or else the calm breaths will turn ragged soon – and he can't risk it again.

On a page, he has already written down some lines. Has also scratched out some lines.

Maybe I didn't recieve enough love

Forever is a sandcastle, even with gentle waves, it collapses without resistance.

He scoffs, rewriting the lines and scratching the ones written before again.

Wasn't loved enough as a kid,

That's why I'm the cautious type.

Forever's something like a sand castle, you know.

It comes crumbling down at the calmest of waves.

He rubs his thumbs on the side of his pen, his tongue peeking out and brows furrowed. It's his countenance when he is in the mode of deep contemplation, and right now he is thinking if he should write about his loneliness or not.

Someone had once told him that a song tells the story the artist wants to say, and it can also communicate with the artist – telling them things they need to hear, not want to. With that in mind, he shakes his head and writes down a few more lines.

The say life's a struggle between resistance and submission.

I say it's a struggle against loneliness.

If you can't hold back, it's okay to cry.

He takes a deep breath before writing down the next line.

You're already more than enough to be loved.

His heart swells at that. Maybe he won't have to battle with himself every day. If he is able to accept that he is capable of being loved, he will come to terms with his future, his present too.

His journey has been fulfilling, he has discovered himself. And his feet land on the floor of his bedroom, thinking that maybe some day, he will have a hand to hold on to, without feeling the guilt that eats at his insides.

Because the greed that he wanted to give up was of no use, and his selflessness only caused him more pain. Maybe this time, he will be selfish, wishing for something which he will never let go. Something which has layers and a string of emotions strung together like a necklace – Love.

Because he knows that everyone knows. And nobody doesn't know anymore, that loneliness has been the root of all his desires.

---

taglist : @jinsquishes @jeonkookiesworld @sailoryooons @jjkeverlast @aliimac @gimmethatagustd @namjoonwhoresworld @apotatomashedbybts @synnfulqt @saweetspoiled @chimchimmarie @sugababylove84 @axigailxo @yoongukie-ff @instabull @graycosco @wobblewobble822 @jungkooksseuphoria @kalea10 @yoongimarryme3 @jminssiii @cowboylikeyoongi @sashs-posts @iwishselena

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kingofbodyrolls · 4 months

Text

Learn to Love Again (m) | myg

Summary: People always leave. They become beautiful stars shining bright in the night sky. When life hands you lemons, you’ve been told to make lemonade, but that is hard when your soul and heart is breaking apart. When you rescue a tiny cat and meet a handsome stranger in the cafe, you finally feel yourself healing – but when they too leave, how are you going to learn to love again?

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female, mainly called pet names so no ‘Y/N’).

AU + genres: Hybrid!au (shapeshifter!yoongi), strangers to lovers, slice of life, heavy angst, a lot of sadness and grief (I’m sorry!), dark vibes, smut and fluff and some humor sprinkled in there too.

Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 19,4K

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings (general) + triggers: Heavy angst, extreme heavy sadness and grief, death of minor characters, mention of previous character death (parents and siblings), mentions of su*cide, mention of m*rder, su*cidal thoughts. Mention of past car accident. Mention of past domestic abuse. Mirrors 👀👀

Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please stay safe!), choking, oral (female receiving), nipple and breasts play, one-time use of a degrading word (otherwise petname), hair pulling – I guess it’s pretty vanilla with a slight sprinkle of spice 🤭

Author’s note (1): I know it sounds hella sad (and it is), but it is also very sweet and heartwarming too 💜 I wanted to venture into the darker stuff again, and embrace all the feelings and sadness that I felt a few weeks ago (I’m fine, well I’m getting through it at least).

If you are triggered by any of the warnings, I suggest that you skip this. It’s not that explicit though, but the heavy subjects are still there and they feature in it a lot.

Also, the quote “people always leave” features a lot in this and I only now realize why I find it so familiar – it’s a famous quote from Peyton Sawyer from One Tree Hill.

Author's note (2): It’s only partly edited, so I’m so sorry about any mistakes or weird wordings (English is also not my mother language). When I read it again, I felt sad and like the whole thing is crap (why do I also feel like this adgadfjkhs), BUT, I still like it, it’s a piece of my heart in there… I can’t just let it sit in my docs to collect dust. So – I’ll just post it early and never look at the thing again (expect for the cover, because damn I’m so happy with how that turned out 🥹).

Taglist: @keshiadeija @viankiss @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad If you prefer to read on AO3 you can also find it there 🙂

The heavens are weeping again, unleashing a torrential downpour that drums heavy on the windows. Just like the heavy beating of your heart and the tears that just won’t stop falling down your cheeks.

For days now, the world has languished in this disquiet, a foreboding atmosphere that has draped itself over every moment, casting a shadow even before the haunting ring of the call that echoed through the silence.

A searing, heart-wrenching call that etched itself into the fabric of your existence, standing out as one of the most agonizing moments life has ever dared to deliver.

Caught off guard by the unexpected twist of fate, it blindsided you, sending shockwaves through your core and leaving you utterly rattled, as if the very ground beneath your feet had shifted without warning.

Your conviction in her well-being crumbled as swiftly as a sandcastle against the tide.

In your last encounter, she radiated joy—her infectious happiness casting a brilliant glow over her words as she spoke about her new job, her blossoming romance, and her boundless love for life.

A tear, heavy with the weight of the contrast between then and now, traces a lonely path down your cheek.

The echo of her laughter, the sparkle in her eyes, and the unbridled excitement that made her hands tremble with anticipation haunted your memories.

It's a heart-wrenching juxtaposition between the happiness she projected and the sorrow now etched into the fabric of your own emotions.

She wasn't just a friend; she was your confidante, a steadfast companion through the labyrinth of years and experiences. Your best friend.

In the tapestry of your friendship, she emerged as the resplendent thread, the one who consistently outshone the rest.

Even on her darkest days, she radiated a brilliance that surpassed the ordinary, a celestial glow that left an indelible mark on your heart. To you, she wasn't just a friend; she was a luminous star, a breathtaking celestial entity whose untimely descent felt like a cosmic supernova, casting a blinding light that left everyone in its wake awestruck and forever changed.

Like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, the day she chose to end her own life blindsided everyone.

The abruptness of her decision, the finality of calling it quits, left a haunting question echoing in the hollow chambers of your soul—why?

The puzzle remains unsolved, the enigma of her despair a perplexing maze you can't navigate. Outwardly, her life seemed like a canvas painted in hues of contentment, yet the invisible struggles eluded comprehension.

Despite the deep conversations that usually wove through the tapestry of your friendship, the darkness she harbored never surfaced in her words. Her choice to shroud her pain in silence remains an unfathomable mystery, a tragic paradox that still elicits a profound sense of bewilderment.

The haunting ‘what if’ lingers, an elusive specter of regret—what if she had shared her struggles with you?

The possibility that your words could have been a lifeline is an uncharted sea of sorrow. The uncertainty, the unfulfilled potential for intervention, claws at your conscience like a relentless tempest.

In the wake of this unanswered plea for connection, tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop bearing the weight of unspoken conversations. The dampness on your collarbone, where your shirt clings uncomfortably, is a tangible reminder of the storm within.

A mere few days have crawled by since that fateful call, the kind that alters the very fabric of reality.

The echo of your friend's voice reverberates through your memory—a seismic revelation that shattered your world. As the words unfolded, you crumpled to the floor, the phone nearly slipping from your trembling grasp.

A gasp caught in your throat, a palpable surge of emotion crashing over you like a tidal wave.

In that harrowing moment, your heartbeat quickened, each thud resonating with the weight of sorrow and anger. The air itself seemed to constrict, tainted with the bitter aftertaste of an impending storm. The onslaught of emotions clawed at your chest, a tumultuous dance between sadness and anger, each one vying for dominance in the chaotic symphony of your soul.

Powerlessness wraps around you like a suffocating shroud, the absence of your brightest star leaving a void that seems insurmountable.

In this moment of staggering loss, the future unfolds as a vast expanse of uncertainty. How do you navigate a world without the radiant glow she once brought to your existence?

Yet, as the weight of grief presses down, a resilient ember flickers within. Acknowledging the inexorable march of time, you realize that her memory, like a cherished constellation, will be a guiding light in the night sky of your life.

In the tapestry of your emotions, she, alongside your parents, becomes one of the celestial beacons you look up to during moments of sorrow or when life's burdens become too overwhelming.

You step out onto the balcony, enveloped by the velvety embrace of the dark blue sky.

The resplendent moon takes center stage, surrounded by a constellation of bright companions that twinkle in the vast expanse of the night. The beauty of the cosmos is a bittersweet solace, a celestial dance that captivates your gaze.

The night sky has always held a captivating allure for you, but in the wake of the profound loss of your parents, it transcends mere beauty.

It becomes a sanctuary, a cosmic tapestry where memories linger among the stars. Each celestial beacon now carries the weight of cherished moments, transforming the night into a sacred canvas where the brilliance of your loved ones continues to shine, casting a radiant glow that lingers in the quiet moments of contemplation.

The subtle hum of your phone reverberates in your hand, a clandestine messenger that disrupts the tranquility of your thoughts, setting loose a cascade of emotions.

The screen lights up with a message from a friend, its arrival like a seismic tremor in the landscape of your contemplations, shaking loose the delicate balance you've tried so desperately to maintain.

Yuna [20.31]: Iseul’s funeral is on Saturday. We’re all going. U coming?🌹

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach like a heavy anchor – the thought of attending the funeral feels like navigating a tempest of emotions you're not sure you're prepared to weather.

The prospect of confronting tears, raw emotion, and the grieving presence of her family looms before you, casting a shadow over the already somber occasion.

Yet, duty intertwines with reluctance; you were her best friend, after all.

The expectation to pay your respects becomes an unspoken mandate, tugging at the seams of your resolve despite the storm of discomfort that brews within.

Tears have become an unwelcome torrent on your phone, transforming the smooth surface into a slippery terrain that complicates every attempt to type.

The screen blurs beneath a watery veil, mirroring the tumultuous cascade in your own eyes. Distraction clings to each droplet, making it not only challenging to navigate the phone but also to see through the emotional downpour that clouds your vision.

But against the deluge of sorrow and the weight of grief, you summon the strength for a brief reply, a fragile lifeline tossed into the turbulent sea of emotions.

You [20.46]: Yes🌹

With a heavy sigh, you gently lay your phone face-down on the nightstand, as if shielding the illuminated screen from the weight of the world you've just momentarily set aside.

How do you navigate this desolate landscape that life has become?

The void feels more palpable now, a haunting echo of emptiness that had lingered even before.

It's as if the very essence of existence has been drained away, leaving you grappling with the profound question: What is the point when the world around you continues to crumble, and people around you just keep dying?

At Iseul's funeral, you navigated the somber scene alongside your friend group, bracing for the emotional maelstrom that awaited.

The atmosphere unfolded exactly as you had anticipated — a tableau of tears, grief-stricken family members, and the embrace of mournful hugs. Conversations echoed with memories of Iseul's radiant spirit, each word a bittersweet tribute to the bright and bubbly soul that once graced your lives.

Amidst the collective sorrow, the air hung heavy with the weight of loss, weaving a tapestry of emotions that spoke to the indelible impact Iseul had left behind.

It was agonizing, bidding farewell in the harsh reality of acceptance. The harsh truth of life unveiled itself – an unrelenting cycle of departures.

Yet, amidst the crushing finality, you find solace in the enduring promise that even though everyone leaves, the stars above will forever bear witness to her presence, a cosmic constellation of memories that will continue to illuminate the canvas of your nights.

Work persists in its mundane rhythm, the monotony punctuated only by the forced smiles you offer customers as you brew their coffee or recommend delectable treats in the cafe.

For you, work has forever remained a sterile landscape, devoid of passion or purpose. The unfulfilled yearning for a meaningful career tugs at the edges of your consciousness, a persistent ache exacerbated by life's unrelenting cruelty—your unfinished degree in astrophysics stands as a testament to dreams deferred. Maybe you’ll go back to school – you don’t know.

Your thoughts are abruptly shattered by a brash intrusion, a man’s voice slicing through the ambient noise with an unwarranted familiarity. “Hi, pretty,” he drawls, snapping your attention to the present, “can I get a black coffee, a muffin, and your number, please?”

The audacious request hangs in the air, leaving a charged pause that crackles with a blend of amusement and annoyance.

You stifle a silent scoff, a careful veil to conceal the simmering irritation within, though the indignation is palpable.

This flirtatious interlude is far from novel—far from the first time someone has attempted to weave charm into the fabric of your workday. Yet, a discomforting truth lingers beneath your composed exterior: you disdain these unwarranted advances, a sentiment you've carried with you each time such encounters stain the ordinary canvas of your work.

Forcing a smile that feels more like a fragile mask, you locate a muffin, navigating the familiar routine with practiced efficiency.

As you approach the coffee machine to craft the requested brew, you gather both items and, with a subtle sigh, slide them across the counter.

Your words, delivered with a polite cadence, carry a hint of firmness as you say, “Here you go. Apologies, but my number isn't on the menu.”

Turning men down has become a skill honed through the crucible of experience, a necessity etched into the fabric of your being, especially after the wreckage of your last relationship.

It wasn't just a breakup; it was a tempest that left you bruised, not only on the surface but also in the recesses of your soul.

To declare a dread of relationships, despite the quiet longing that flickers deep within, would be an understatement—the mere thought evokes the echoes of a tumultuous past, a cautionary tale etched in both physical and emotional hues of black and blue.

Despite the man's disapproving frown, he begrudgingly parts with his payment, snatching his coffee and muffin.

As he vacates the space, you extend a tight-lipped greeting to the next customer, the forced smile a delicate masquerade concealing the intricacies of emotion churning beneath the surface.

Day after day unfolds in this relentless routine, a relentless loop where, despite the suffocating weight of depression, you muster the strength to haul yourself into work.

The struggle is an unspoken battle, fought in the silent recesses of your soul, and each morning becomes a victory against the persistent darkness that threatens to engulf your spirit.

You maintain a lifeline to your friends, weaving a narrative of your somber mood and emotional tumult, acutely aware of the significance of vocalizing your feelings rather than succumbing to the perilous grip of silent suffering.

Recent conversations with your friends have taken an unexpected turn, steering into the realm of your dating life or, more accurately, its conspicuous absence.

Their fervent advocacy for you to reenter the world of romance echoes in your ears, their well-intentioned pleas urging you to cross paths with someone great and amazing.

However, you find yourself standing at the crossroads of uncertainty, unsure if you're ready to navigate the labyrinth of love once more.

Despite your reservations, you indulge them, allowing their words to wash over you like a waterfall of unsolicited advice, all the while steadfast in your understanding that a man is not a prerequisite for happiness or the completeness of your life—you've long recognized your ability to stand firm and flourish on your own terms.

An entire season has unfurled its tapestry, and while the vast void persists within the caverns of your heart, there's a subtle transformation underway. Amidst the lingering shadows, a sliver of the sun's warm rays threads its way through, gently illuminating the emptiness.

The caress of warm weather and sunlight manages to coax a faint lift in your mood, a subtle thawing of the emotional frost.

Yet, amidst the burgeoning warmth, there's a yearning for the crispness of cold, the kind that invites the comfort of wool sweaters and socks, beckoning a desire to cocoon on the couch and lose yourself in the embrace of solitude.

After withstanding the relentless onslaught of your friends' persistent prodding into the realm of your love life, you've yielded to the chorus of their well-meaning badgering. With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, you've made the bold decision to reenter the intricate dance of the dating game.

The prospect of discovering 'the one' remains shrouded in uncertainty, a delicate balance between the promise of profound connection and the potential peril of heartache from those who might not treat you right.

However, the ambiguity of the journey doesn't deter your resolve. To remain passive is to forfeit the chance at something extraordinary.

The echoes of Iseul and the silent encouragement from your departed parents reverberate, urging you to embrace life with all its intricate hues. Their unwritten wish for your happiness becomes the compass guiding your path, compelling you to take the plunge and give it your all.

You yearn for a life where the pursuit of happiness isn't punctuated by the haunting inevitability of departures and loss. You grasp the harsh truth that people leaving or departing through death is an inescapable facet of existence, a relentless current in the river of life.

Yet, the recurring tide of sorrow that washes over you each time someone departs feels burdensome, a weight that anchors your spirit. It would be a cherished reprieve if the ebb and flow of life's transitions didn't carry with it a relentless undertow that threatens to drag you down each time.

Your dating escapades have unfolded like a series of misadventures, each rendezvous more perplexing than the last.

One suitor wielded an aggressive tone that eclipsed any potential connection, while another was so absorbed in self-interest that your voice seemed but an echo in the conversation. Then there was the one who sought solace in your company to mend a broken heart, an unwitting participant in their quest for emotional repair.

With every disappointing encounter, your hopes wane like the dying embers of a once-bright flame. Yet, undeterred, you persist in the pursuit of connection, a resilient soul navigating the unpredictable seas of dating with unwavering determination.

Amidst the tumultuous sea of advice from your friends, the suggestion of a night out clubbing emerges as a potential remedy to jumpstart your dating life—a one-night stand, a shortcut to reclaiming agency over your love life.

However, the proposition fails to align with the essence of who you are. The neon-lit allure of the club scene doesn't resonate with your soul, and the idea of a fleeting encounter doesn't hold the promise you seek.

Nonetheless, you find yourself engulfed in a pulsating sea of sound, the music in the club roaring, the bass reverberating through the floor and into your bones.

The atmosphere is a maelstrom of heat and sweat, a suffocating embrace that intensifies your regret for being there.

Yuna, exuding an air of confidence, takes charge and orders a round of drinks for the group. Meanwhile, Nari's eyes scan the lively chaos of the club, a vigilant matchmaker on a mission to uncover potential matches for you.

Her finger extends with a pointed certainty toward a mysterious figure—a dark-haired man sporting a sleeveless shirt, the canvas of his arm adorned with an intricate tattoo sleeve. His dark eyes, scanning the crowded expanse of the club, carry an enigmatic intensity, hinting at a captivating allure that goes beyond the surface.

Your laughter carries a blend of amusement and skepticism as you dismissively remark, “Nah, he's giving off major fuckboy vibes.”

Amidst the cacophony of pounding music in the club, Nari practically shouts in your face, her words punctuating the beat as she insists, “Maybe that's exactly what you need!”

The intensity of her proclamation, a fervent plea for spontaneity, reverberates in the air, a challenge thrown into the whirlwind of the night's possibilities.

You shake your head, a firm yet polite rejection lingering on your lips, “No, thank you.”

Just as the tension subsides, Yuna appears with a tray of drinks, a timely distraction. Gratefully, you accept your drink, savoring the sweet and sour concoction that dances across your palate, momentarily providing respite from the charged atmosphere of the club.

The night unfolds in a rhythm of measured indulgence—a few drinks to chase a gentle buzz, steering clear of the edge of intoxication. Your gaze scans the crowd in search of potential matches, but amidst the pulsating lights and swirling music, none captures the elusive spark that ignites a genuine interest.

As the night deepens and the rhythm of the club starts to fade, you bid farewell to your friends, the weight of the evening settling in your bones.

Stepping out into the nocturnal air, you're greeted by the relentless cascade of rain, a torrential downpour that catches you off guard. Damn it, you realize, a surge of annoyance coursing through you, you didn't bring an umbrella.

Embracing a sudden burst of defiance, you make a split-second decision, a resolute ‘fuck it’ echoing in your mind.

Stepping onto the sidewalk without the shelter of an umbrella, you surrender to the unrelenting rain. In mere moments, your hair clings to your skin, and your clothes succumb to the downpour.

As you navigate the labyrinth of alleys and pass by numerous apartments, a peculiar low noise infiltrates the ambient hum of the rain. What is that sound?

It's a subtle yet persistent calling that arrests your movements, compelling you to strain your senses in an attempt to decipher its origin.

It's not just your slightly tipsy mind, is it, playing tricks on you?

The cadence of the noise feels like a desperate plea, an ethereal call for help that beckons you into a mysterious dance between reality and the unknown.

Undeterred by the absence of street lamps, you navigate a shadowy alleyway nestled between looming apartment complexes. The darkness cloaks the path ahead, but you press on, an intrepid explorer drawn to the mystery that lies beyond the veil of obscurity.

As you draw nearer, the enigmatic noise crescendos in intensity, a haunting melody that pierces the quiet of the alley.

Your steps quicken, and with each stride, the source becomes clearer. Could it be emanating from the depths of the dumpster?

A sense of déjà vu wraps around you, as if this eerie scene has been lifted from a cinematic reel. The dilemma tugs at your curiosity, tempting you to peer into the abyss of the dumpster, a choice that hangs in the balance.

Yet, before you make a decision, a glimmer of relief washes over you.

Nestled snugly beside the dumpster, a small ball of fur captivates your attention, its presence a stark contrast to the ominous shadows.

A silhouette emerges from the darkness, and as you inch closer, the mystery unfolds into a shivering, meowing figure—a black cat.

The frailness of the tiny creature tugs at your heartstrings, and you find yourself hunching down, extending a tentative invitation with soft calls, coaxing the small, ebony bundle to bridge the gap between its vulnerability and your outstretched hand.

The black cat fixes its gaze upon you, eyes mirroring a blend of uncertainty and wariness, as if it's attempting to decipher the intentions behind your outstretched hand.

The black cat stirs from its initial hesitation, uttering plaintive meows that seem to echo its distress. As it rises, the stark reality becomes evident—malnourished and shrouded in fear, it moves tentatively towards you. Each step seems to echo a history of abandonment and struggle. With aching slowness, the feline inches closer, navigating the wet ground with trepidation.

Softly, you beckon the malnourished feline closer, the words “Come here, you poor thing” carrying an invitation laced with compassion.

As the tiny creature inches nearer, its pitch-black eyes become an intense focal point, a gaze that transcends the physical realm, peering into the depths of your soul. In that poignant exchange, a silent pact forms—an unspoken promise of comfort and understanding between two beings, each seeking solace in the other's company.

As the fragile black cat draws near, an echo from your past resurfaces—the cautionary words of your mother reverberating in your mind. ‘Black cats bring omen and death,’ her voice, etched in childhood memories, had warned.

Yet, confronted with the stark vulnerability of this shivering, lost creature in the cold summer rain, you find your resolve tested.

Against the weight of your mother's superstitions, compassion prevails, and you make a conscious decision to offer refuge. You haven’t got anything else to lose, but yourself.

The cat's purrs resonate in the quiet alley, a melodic response to the tentative connection forming between you. Meows become a symphony of trust as it finally caresses your hand, a delicate dance of vulnerability.

With a newfound intimacy, it leans into your touch, climbing up your arm to find refuge in your lap. Despite your jacket's damp embrace, you pull the shivering creature closer, enfolding it tightly against your chest.

“I’ll take you home and get you some food.”

Rising from the damp alley, you cradle the tiny black cat in your arms, an intimate embrace that transcends the physicality of the moment. As you navigate the journey home, each step becomes a testament to the newfound connection—its fragile heartbeat resonating against your chest.

As you finally reach the sanctuary of your home, both you and the shivering cat are thoroughly drenched from the relentless rain.

With a twist of the key, you unlock the door to your small apartment, ushering in a breath of warmth that contrasts sharply with the damp chill outside.

In a choreography of relief, you kick off your sodden shoes, the cat nestled at your feet. Unburdened by the weight of the rain-soaked coat, you hang it on the rack, a visual symbol of the transition from the stormy world outside to the comforting refuge within the four walls of your home.

“I'll find you a towel and dry you off,” you promise to the cat, your words a tender reassurance before your feet. With a sense of urgency, you hasten to the bathroom, a quest for a towel becoming a mission to provide comfort to your newfound companion.

As you return, traces of wet footprints mark the path from the entryway to your living room, leading to the sight of the cat perched regally on your couch.

The unexpected image elicits a sense of awe within you, a silent marvel at the fortuitous encounter that has unfolded. With the fluffy towel in hand, you join the tiny creature on the couch.

With gentle strokes, you tenderly dry the cat with the fluffy towel, the rhythmic purrs and meows resonating like a melody of gratitude.

In this intimate act of care, a bond forms between you and the feline, its response a testament to the shared understanding that has quietly blossomed.

The dampness of the storm may linger outside, but within the confines of your home, a warmth permeates, forged through the simple yet profound act of offering comfort to a fragile soul.

Persistently, the cat continues its chorus of meows, its nearly obsidian eyes fixed on you with an intensity that transcends mere feline curiosity. In the silent exchange, a profound question lingers in the air—what does it want?

The gaze carries an almost pleading quality, an unspoken plea that invites you to unravel the mysteries hidden within those enigmatic eyes, and in doing so, embark on a journey of connection and understanding with this small, mysterious soul.

A revelation flickers in your mind like a sudden burst of light—food!

The realization washes over you, and a spark of understanding illuminates the unspoken hunger behind those pleading eyes. “You're starving, ain't ya?” you murmur, the words a bridge between the two of you, an acknowledgment of shared needs and the beginning of a silent commitment to provide not just shelter but sustenance to this small, hungry soul.

In a hurried dance between care and necessity, you dart into the kitchen, swinging open the fridge door to unleash a blast of cold air.

The realization that your wet clothes might lead to an impending cold nudges at you, urging a brief pause for self-care. As you contemplate changing into dry attire, the cat, now a nimble companion, weaves around your feet, a symphony of meows echoing its anticipation of the impending feast.

As your gaze sweeps across the contents of the fridge, a flurry of questions dance in your mind—what do cats like?

In a moment of culinary improvisation, you spot the remnants of yesterday's fish. A hopeful assumption takes hold—cats like fish, right?

Without a second thought, you snatch the container, crack it open, and ceremoniously place it on the floor.

The cat descends upon the fish with a voracity that borders on desperation, consuming it in a whirlwind of seconds.

You observe in silent fascination as the cat devours the fish with an almost primal fervor, each bite a testament to the depth of its hunger.

As the cat lifts its gaze, those dark, fond eyes fixate on you, a silent expression of gratitude that transcends words, forging a connection that lingers in the air like the sweet aftertaste of an unexpected bond.

You retrieve a bowl, fill it with water, and place it on the floor. The cat, having satisfied its hunger, wastes no time. It immediately dips its tongue into the water, each lap a testament to the thirst that had accompanied its hunger.

In the quiet aftermath of the cat's meal, you find yourself engaged in a one-sided conversation. While it laps up the water, you speak to it with a hint of longing, as if expecting the feline to reveal its name with a mere glance. “I don't know what your name is…” you muse aloud, your words hanging in the air like a silent plea for connection.

In the exchange, a profound yearning takes root—a desire not just to care for this creature but to unravel the mystery that shrouds it, beginning with the revelation of a name.

Hmm... A whimsical idea takes shape in your mind, and with a voice full of hope, you share your musings with the feline companion. “I don't know, maybe I'll give you one!” you exclaim, the words tinged with the excitement of a newfound connection.

Testing the waters, you propose a couple of names with a hopeful lilt in your voice. “Shadow?” you venture, eyes fixated on the cat, seeking any flicker of recognition.

Yet, met with a stoic demeanor, you playfully offer another option, “Licorice?”

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, but the cat remains unfazed, engrossed in its culinary pursuits.

Embracing a sudden surge of inspiration, you think of a name that dances on the edges of whimsy and mischief. “You look like a 'Loki,' like a God of Mischief!” The words tumble out with a playful chuckle, a nod to the elusive charm that shrouds the feline.

To your surprise, the cat interrupts its feast, casting what seems like a dumbfounded expression your way.

A moment of shared acknowledgment hangs in the air before the cat resumes its meal, leaving you to wonder if, in that fleeting pause, you've glimpsed the spark of recognition in its enigmatic eyes.

An impromptu burst of enthusiasm seizes you, and with an abrupt yell, you christen the cat in a moment of whimsy. “Kitten!”

The exclamation is so sudden that it startles the cat, prompting a small leap in surprise. “That's your name. You're so small, like a little kitten,” you playfully jest, mimicking the affectionate cooing one might give to a baby.

In the imaginary realm where cats understand human whims, you half-expect a hypothetical eye-roll, as if the creature were a miniature human indulging in the theatrics of a quirky naming ceremony.

In the wake of your spontaneous naming ceremony, Kitten darts away, a streak of fur and energy leaving you in its playful wake. A fleeting attempt to follow its swift movements reveals the futility of keeping pace with this agile companion.

An earnest plea escapes your lips, “No, don't run away, Kitten!” A plea that halts not far from your bedroom, where a sudden idea takes root. “We're going to bed, and you can even sleep in my bed.” The promise hangs in the air, an invitation that sparks the cat's curiosity.

Without hesitation, Kitten races back to you, weaving through your legs and darting into the bedroom. It watches itself in the mirror in front of your bed, before it in a graceful leap, lands on the bed, transforming this impromptu offer into a shared moment of warmth and companionship.

A soft chuckle escapes you as Kitten, with a graceful twirl, transforms into a snug, fluffy black ball. It settles onto the bed, a picture of contentment and trust, the rhythmic rise and fall of its breathing echoing in the room.

In the sanctuary of your bathroom, the day's residue fades away as you delicately remove stained makeup and indulge in your nightly skincare rituals.

With a sense of quiet reverence, you return to the bedroom, mindful not to disrupt Kitten's serene repose. Nestled in bed, you prop yourself up, the rhythmic routine a prelude to the tranquility that envelops the room.

As you surrender to the embrace of sleep, the ethereal presence of the black cat becomes a silent companion in the journey between waking and dreams, a guardian of the night's secrets.

In the intimate company of Kitten, you find solace in the honesty of your own reflection. “He wasn't really for me, Kitten. I don't know why I keep going on these dates. They amount to nothing.” A sigh punctuates your admission, a subtle echo of the unspoken search for connection that seems elusive in the realm of human encounters.

As you delve into a shared meal with your newfound family member – Kitten, you stuff your face with delicious food in an attempt to keep your minds off your failing romantic life.

Kitten responds to your words with a series of gentle meows, a seemingly agreeable chorus that resonates in the room.

Over the past few days, he has transformed into an impeccable listener, absorbing the tapestry of your thoughts with silent grace.

In the quiet moments of your soliloquies, a yearning surfaces—a desire for more than a feline confidant, for words that echo back with advice and wisdom.

Yet, despite this unfulfilled wish, Kitten's silent companionship remains a source of profound comfort, his presence weaving seamlessly into the fabric of your daily life, a testament to the unexpected connections that emerge in the quiet interludes of solitude.

Consistent as the rhythm of a heartbeat, Kitten is there, a patient sentinel awaiting your return from the hustle of the day.

His presence becomes a cherished routine, an embodiment of comfort that transcends the mundanity of the everyday.

As you settle in front of the television, Kitten gracefully claims his place in your lap, his form snuggling into the contours of your warmth.

The scene unfolds like a silent ballet, a dance between two beings finding solace in the quietude of shared moments—a testament to the profound bond that has blossomed in the intimate spaces of your daily life.

On a day marked by what you'd deem a successful date, you decide to bring the guy home to your apartment.

Kitten welcomes you with joyous meows, but the moment his obsidian eyes lock onto the man, a palpable shift occurs.

The cat's once-hospitable demeanor morphs into a display of territorial assertion—he hisses, claws unsheathed, a guardian of the sacred space that has become both haven and sanctuary.

Unfazed by Kitten's display of discontent, the man follows you into the bedroom, a trail of unresolved tension lingering in the air. However, as you attempt to navigate the fragile balance between human relationships and the silent protests of your feline confidant, Kitten stalks in with palpable anger.

Kitten's claws assert their protest on the man's pants, a silent plea echoing through the room. “I'm so sorry about my cat. He's not usually like this,” you hastily apologize, attempting to navigate the tumultuous intersection of human connection and feline territoriality.

In the midst of the uneasy dance, the guy gently guides you down onto the bed, a kiss bridging the gap between words left unsaid and the uncharted landscapes of desire.

In an unforeseen twist, Kitten catapults onto the bed, launching a surprise attack on the poor man's back with unbridled ferocity.

The room erupts with a sudden commotion as the guy yells in pain, Kitten swiftly retreating to the shelter of your startled embrace.

Frustration and pain tinge the man's voice as he vehemently declares, “Fuck this. This isn't worth it! Your cat is a fucking psycho!”

The words hang in the air, a bitter testament to the unexpected turbulence that has unraveled in the wake of Kitten's feline intervention.

With an angry storm, the man storms out of your bedroom and through the front door, leaving behind a charged atmosphere and the unresolved echoes of a connection unraveling at the seams.

As the storm of emotions settles, Kitten finds solace in your lap, a contented purr resonating through the room—a feline sovereign basking in the aftermath of his territorial triumph.

Meanwhile, you remain seated, mouth agape, an image of stunned disbelief etched across your face.

You address Kitten with a scolding tone, attempting to impart a sense of reprimand into the air. “You can't do that, Kitten!” you assert, a firmness in your voice attempting to breach the language barrier between human and feline.

Amidst the aftermath, a hesitant chuckle escapes your lips, a soft attempt to diffuse the tension that lingers in the air. “Also, you're gonna leave me single forever if you do that,” you jest, the words bearing the weight of both humor and a subtle unease.

In the ambiguous space between laughter and contemplation, you grapple with the conflicting emotions stirred by Kitten's unexpected display of protectiveness—a complex blend of gratitude, amusement, and the uncharted territories of understanding the intricate dynamics of companionship with a creature whose language transcends the boundaries of words.

A solitary figure with raven-black hair occupies a corner table in the cafe, his presence shrouded in an air of quiet mystery that tugs at the edges of your memory.

Intrigued, you've stolen glances at him, an unspoken connection sparking curiosity within you.

The man, seemingly lost in a world of words and sketches within the pages of his journal, emanates a strange familiarity that dances on the fringes of your consciousness.

As he sips on his coffee, a poignant picture of solitude and anticipation, you can't help but wonder about the untold story woven into the fabric of his contemplative gaze. Perhaps he's a poet awaiting inspiration, or maybe, like you, he's caught in the delicate dance of anticipation, waiting for someone who may never arrive.

His long, pitch-black hair cascades in soft curls, framing a face adorned with dark, expressive eyes. The fair and creamy complexion of his skin, paired with lips tinged with the aftermath of fervent bites, adds an air of mystery to his features. His hands, adorned with prominent veins, move with purpose across the pages of his journal, translating the thoughts within his mind into tangible strokes. Clad in a black leather biker jacket and ripped jeans, he emanates a ‘bad boy’ allure that might not align with your usual preferences, yet there's an undeniable handsomeness that transcends the surface. As you observe, the truth unfolds—looks can be deceiving, you know.

As the hands of the clock inch towards the conclusion of your shift, you notice the enigmatic man with the pitch-black hair has vanished, leaving only the echo of his presence lingering in the now vacant corner.

The air is charged with the unspoken allure of an encounter that slipped through the fingers of time.

Packing up your belongings, you carry the weight of curiosity with you as you embark on the journey home, where the enigmatic enigma of Kitten awaits.

Kitten, sensing your return, greets you with a symphony of affectionate meows. Your hand instinctively reaches out, weaving a tapestry of gentle pats and strokes, an unspoken language shared between human and feline. With a contented sigh escaping your lips, you murmur, “Happy to be home.”

In the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, you find yourself recounting the day's enigmatic encounter to Kitten, the words lingering in the air like a shared secret between kindred spirits. “I saw the loneliest guy today, Kitten. It felt like he was waiting for someone, but destiny stood him up.”

As the words escape your lips, Kitten's attentive gaze reflects an unspoken understanding, a silent pact shared between you and your feline confidant.

Your fingers delicately dance behind Kitten's ears, a gesture that elicits a symphony of contented purrs, resonating within the confines of your quiet haven.

The next day unfolds like a familiar scene, the cafe's atmosphere steeped in the aroma of coffee and the rustle of pages turning.

Once again, the mysterious black-haired man graces the corner with his presence, accompanied by a steaming cup of coffee and the enigmatic dance of his pen across the pages of his journal.

Your curiosity, a flame flickering in the recesses of your thoughts, draws you to the edge of decision — to approach and unravel the mysteries that cloak him. Yet, an invisible barrier holds you back, a silent pact with yourself not to disturb the solitary poet whose verses remain unread.

The elusive man, shrouded in the mystery of unread words, remains a realm unexplored, as each coffee order becomes a bridge guarded by your coworker.

As the day unfolds, the mysterious man persists in his corner, a captivating enigma that draws your attention like a moth to a flame.

The rhythmic ballet of your daily routine continues, an intricate dance of serving customers while stealing glances in his direction.

In the quiet recesses of your mind, a burning question simmers – who could possibly stand up this captivating soul, adorned with the allure of dark hair and an air of mystery that commands the room?

After days of observing the silent saga of the man and his solitude, a week of unbroken routine, your empathy swells like a rising tide.

A magnetic force compels you to bridge the distance, and against the backdrop of the cafe's ambient hum, your feet, as if guided by an invisible hand, carry you to the table where he patiently awaits an absent companion.

With a mix of curiosity and compassion, you settle into the chair opposite him, breaking the invisible barrier that held you apart.

As your presence disrupts the solitude he had grown accustomed to, his intense gaze, reminiscent of a predatory feline, lifts from the pages of his journal to meet your own. The sharpness in his eyes feels like a calculated assessment, causing a subtle tremor to course through you. You gulp.

“Hi,” you start, the uncertainty palpable in your voice. Attempting to mask your nervousness, your fingers run through your hair, a feeble defense against the anxious tide.

“I’ve noticed you here alone for the past few days, and I just—” Your words stumble, caught in the rush, but before you can continue, he interjects with a voice sharp as a blade, his eyes piercing through you like he can unravel your deepest secrets.

“Are you stalking me?” The question hangs in the air, and his gaze feels like an X-ray, laying bare your darkest thoughts. Your body seizes, frozen in the penetrating gaze that seems to pry into the very recesses of your soul.

Why does his voice carry a hint of familiarity, resonating through the air like an echo from another time?

His very presence, too, feels like a distant memory, even though you're certain you hadn't laid eyes on him before he entered the cafe a week ago.

A subtle smirk plays on his lips, a realization dawning on you that he's asked a question. As you attempt to gather your thoughts, you find yourself choking on air, grappling to string together a coherent response.

“I'm kidding. I know you work here,” he chuckles, and you release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Your shoulders ease, and in an instant, you respond with a soft smile, a subtle connection forming in that shared moment of relief.

“Are you waiting for someone?” you inquire, and a smile graces his face, revealing gleaming white teeth and pink gums. He looks cute. Dangerously so.

“Nah. She just arrived.” Your eyes light up. Finally, his date has shown up! You start to rise from your chair, eager to make space for his companion. He looks up at you, a curious expression on his face, and asks, “What are you doing?”

“Making room for your date?” you quip, utterly dumbfounded.

“Date?” he asks with a raised brow. You nod, adding, “The one you’ve been waiting for.”

“But I’m already looking at her.” Your mouth hangs wide open; did you just hear him right? Is this a pickup line? And why on earth is it working?

You chuckle nervously, the sound a stark contrast to his calm and cool demeanor.

You ease back into your chair, and the conversation flows so naturally that you feel like you've known him for years.

Upon returning home, you excitedly share the details of your day with Kitten, recounting the encounter with the handsome man with his curly hair and piercing eyes. While you stroke Kitten and he purrs contentedly, you express your perplexity about the strange sense of familiarity the man emanated, despite being certain you've never met him before.

Kitten twirls and purrs in your lap, savoring the gentle strokes as you recline on your couch.

“I can't help but wonder if he'll be there again tomorrow,” you muse, your voice a soft melody to the room, accompanied by Kitten's content purrs.

He returned to the cafe the next day, and the next and the next turned into weeks.

He dedicates every moment to his secluded corner, and during your breaks you find solace in the cadence of your conversations. His name, Yoongi, resonates with the soulful poems that he breathes life into with his well-worn guitar. You’ve never heard him play or sing, but you look forward to the day you might.

His question pierces through the hum of the café, abruptly pulling you from your reverie as you delicately nibble on your muffin. “Are you heading home for the summer break?” he inquires, the unexpected interruption leaving a sweet and curious taste lingering on your lips.

As his question hangs in the air, you lock eyes with him, realizing he might not grasp the gravity of his inquiry.

There's a momentary sag in your shoulders, a silent acknowledgment of the pain that lies beneath. Gathering the strength to respond, you share a piece of your past, “No. My parents died when I was young.”

Regret casts a shadow over his striking features in an instant, and you witness a profound apology escaping from his lips.

“I'm holding up okay. It's a tale from a while back. A car accident took my parents, leaving just my little sister and me as survivors,” you share, a poignant sadness threading through your words, your eyes misting with the memories.

He tenderly offers words of comfort, a soothing balm for your weary soul, and you allow him to lift the heaviness that clings to your spirit.

You beam at him, grateful for the warmth that radiates from his kind soul, a presence you've grown to cherish over the past few months. “And you, any exciting plans for the summer?”

“I might have to go home to my parents for a bit, but I’m not sure yet,” he shares, absentmindedly running his fingers through his soft black locks, a gesture that makes you yearn for the touch of your own hand in that sea of darkness.

“I'm telling you, bitch!” Nari slaps Yuna's thigh, a bit too enthusiastically, causing her to flinch in pain, as Nari adds with a sly grin, “She's head over heels in loooove.”

You roll your eyes at both of them, their playful banter fading into background noise as you savor the drink that Yuna ordered for you.

You've navigated downtown, finding refuge in a cozy establishment where the ambient tunes, board games, and drinks create the perfect backdrop for reconnecting with your friends.

“I swear, I'm not head over heels or anything,” you insist, batting away their teasing with a playful smirk, all the while sipping on the drink that Yuna ordered for you.

“He’s just nice,” you add with a soft smile.

“You sure do talk about him a lot,” Yuna adds in a chuckle as she rubs her thigh.

“Well, he's an interesting person, and the conversations just flow,” you reply with a grin, downplaying the significance, but your friends exchange knowing glances that hint at their suspicions.

Nari takes a sip of her drink, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Speaking of crushes, your little companion, what's his name again? Kitten?”

You passionately defend Kitten, your eyes sparkling with affection. “Don't bring Kitten into this! I adore him,” you gush, wearing your love for the little furball as a badge of honor.

Nari shares her romantic wisdom, her words dripping with affection. “Cats are fine companions, but you should find a man who can bring you warmth and happiness,” she says, her eyes practically turning into hearts if this were a cartoon. You can't help but chuckle at her earnest advice.

Yuna playfully nudges your shoulder and suggests, “You should totally ask out this Yoongi guy. I mean, come on, you practically light up every time you talk about him.”

You pause, a moment of uncertainty hanging in the air. “Maybe,” you finally reply, your words carrying the weight of contemplation.

Nari's enthusiasm rings in your ears, a bit too loud in the cozy ambiance. “You don't have anything to lose, only more to gain!” she almost shouts, her excitement reaching its peak. Her words, fueled by a touch of intoxication, linger in the air, leaving you to ponder as you consider whether it's time to call it a night.

“Okay. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

As you step into your apartment, Kitten greets you with an extra dose of affection, weaving himself between your legs and trailing you with heightened attention. Tonight, he appears more attuned to your every move, purring and twirling around your legs with an endearing neediness. Settling down, you can't resist his charms and find yourself seated, offering gentle strokes to his fur-covered frame.

As you wrap up your nightly routine and slip into your comfortable pajamas, you turn to Kitten with a question that has become a familiar part of your routine.

“I'm heading to bed, Kitten. You joining?” Kitten promptly leaps onto the bed, taking his customary place by your side.

However, tonight, there's a lingering sense of affection in his actions. He showers you with gentle licks, a gesture that brings a smile to your face. As sleep gradually claims you, your dreams are adorned with vivid images of obsidian eyes and a dark, star-studded sky.

As you awaken from a restful sleep, the absence of Kitten by your side strikes you like a sudden jolt.

Your initial response is to sit up, calling out for him, yet there's only silence in return.

The quietness, once comforting, now carries an eerie weight as you realize the profound impact Kitten has had on your daily life.

The room feels emptier, and a sense of unease settles in, disrupting the peace you've grown accustomed to.

A wave of melancholy washes over you, creating a heavy ache in your chest as you scan the familiar corners of your apartment, desperately searching for any sign of Kitten.

The unanswered questions pile up in your mind, a torrent of worries threatening to drown you. Did he, too, decide to leave, slipping away like others from your life?

The uncertainty gnaws at you, pushing you to venture into the quiet streets, hoping against hope to uncover the fate of your feline companion. Each step is a mix of trepidation and determination, a journey into the unknown to retrieve the missing piece of your daily existence.

A sense of desperation tightens its grip as you scour every nook and cranny, but Kitten remains elusive, leaving you with the bitter taste of vanishing hope.

The echoes of your unanswered calls hang in the air, blending with the growing unease that clings to you like a shadow. The once familiar spaces now feel like a maze, and you can't shake the sinking feeling that your luck is slipping away, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. The haunting question persists: where could he be, and what could have taken him from your side?

With a mixture of determination and trepidation, your feet instinctively carry you back to the cafe.

The familiar chime announces your arrival, drawing the attention of your coworker, who casts a puzzled look your way. The early hour has caught them off guard, their raised eyebrow mirroring the questions that dance in your own mind.

As you scan the cozy confines of the cafe, a subtle panic begins to creep through your veins. The absence of Yoongi creates an uneasy knot in your stomach, but you reassure yourself, clinging to the hope that he might stroll in later, as he often does.

The hours drag on, each passing moment heightening the anticipation. As the door chimes with every newcomer, a flicker of hope dances in your chest, only to be extinguished when it's not Yoongi.

The day becomes a symphony of disappointment, and the subtle hope you clung to begins to dissipate, slipping through your fingers like elusive grains of sand. The cafe, once a haven of warmth and comfort, now feels eerily empty without the presence of his familiar silhouette.

As your shift draws to a close, a heavy sadness settles over you like a thick fog. The absence of Yoongi, who always brought a touch of warmth to the cafe, leaves an emptiness that echoes through the familiar surroundings. The unanswered questions linger in your mind, and a nagging worry creeps in — what could have kept him away?

The air is charged with uncertainty, and you can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him.

A sudden realization hits you like a wave, as you recall Yoongi mentioning the possibility of traveling to his parents for the summer break.

The initial sting of disappointment transforms into a pang of concern. Questions swirl in your mind like a tempest – did he leave without saying goodbye? Why didn't he share his plans with you?

The uncertainty gnaws at your thoughts, and you grapple with the unknown, desperately seeking solace in the memories of your time together.

A disquieting sensation twists in your stomach, an ominous premonition casting a shadow over your thoughts. The unease tightens its grip, leaving you with an unsettling sense that something may have befallen Yoongi.

Your mind races through various scenarios, each more distressing than the last, as you grapple with the haunting uncertainty that looms over his absence.

Regret echoes through your thoughts like a haunting refrain. The absence of contact details with Yoongi leaves you grappling with the repercussions of a missed opportunity, a seemingly insignificant detail now carrying the weight of your uncertainty.

A sense of loss and yearning wraps around you, intensifying the void created by the absence of a farewell. The realization dawns that in the midst of budding connection, you failed to secure a bridge to traverse the distance that now separates you.

Each step on the journey home feels like a weighted march, the heaviness of unspoken goodbyes sinking into your bones.

Sorrow, like a relentless tide, floods your heart, consuming it with an ache that echoes through each footfall. Familiar pangs of longing claw at your chest, constricting breaths into fleeting gasps.

It's as if the very air you breathe carries the weight of an unfinished story, leaving you to navigate the foggy terrain of uncertainty, the poignant residue of an incomplete connection lingering in the spaces between each step.

A tempest of thoughts unleashes in your mind, a whirlwind of self-doubt and abandonment. The notion that he, too, might have slipped away like others before him wraps around your heart, squeezing it in an unforgiving grip. The ache is palpable, resonating through every fiber of your being. It's an anguish that cuts deep, a symphony of hurt orchestrated by the haunting possibility that echoes in the chambers of your wounded heart.

In the intricate tapestry of your time knowing him, he wasn't just a passing figure; he had etched himself into the mosaic of your life, becoming a fragment that held the essence of friendship.

You step into the sanctuary of your apartment, liberating your feet from the constraints of shoes, and collapse onto the couch, surrendering to its plush contours that cradle you in a cocoon of solace.

In the midst of trying to regain control of your racing breaths, a subtle vibration resonates from your pocket, drawing your attention like a lifeline. Retrieving your phone, you cast an intrigued glance at the illuminated screen, revealing an incoming call from Yuna.

With bated breath, you answer the call, the familiar cadence of Yuna's voice instantly arresting your senses.

An unexpected wave of emotions surges through you, freezing you in the moment as her words weave a narrative you weren't prepared for.

The weight of her words hangs heavy in the air, a heartbreaking tremor in her voice as she struggles to regain composure.

“Babe,” she utters, the tearful plea slicing through the silence like a dagger.

You can feel the gravity of the situation intensify as she reveals, “It's Nari,” the name echoing with a sense of foreboding that pierces through the air, leaving you breathless.

Dread hangs thick in the air as you muster the courage to ask, your voice trembling with fear and concern. “What about Nari?”

The words escape your lips, each syllable a hesitant step into the unknown, and as you sit up on your couch, a sense of urgency grips you, rendering you more alert than ever before.

The weight of Yuna's words crashes over you like an unrelenting wave, drowning your senses.

“She's gone,” Yuna sobs, her cries echoing in your ears.

A sudden chill grips your entire body, and the world around you blurs as your vision turns white.

Tears well up, threatening to spill over, and an indescribable ache settles in the core of your being. It feels as if the ground beneath you has shifted, leaving you suspended in a surreal and devastating moment.

Your voice quivers as you manage to break through the numbness, the question escaping your lips like a fragile whisper.

“How?” you repeat, the word catching in the tightness of your throat. Tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop carrying the weight of an ocean, a torrential release of the overwhelming emotions within you.

Your friend's voice wavers with sorrow as she delivers the painful revelation. “Apparently, she was sick and didn’t tell anybody…”

Each word, heavy with the burden of the unspoken, echoes in the emptiness of your apartment.

The truth, a bitter pill to swallow, lingers in the air, and you find it hard to comprehend the reality of the situation.

The walls of your sanctuary, once comforting, now press in on you, transforming your home into a claustrophobic cage of grief. The world outside seems to blur, and all that remains is the weight of disbelief settling on your shoulders.

The longing to share your grief with Yoongi intensifies, yet the barrier of not having his contact details becomes a painful obstacle. Your emotions, already tumultuous, now surge like a tempest within.

Frustration and sorrow intermingle, a chaotic dance that you try to contain.

As the weight of the news presses down on you, your nails unconsciously dig into your skin, seeking an outlet for the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume you. The physical pain becomes a tangible manifestation of the emotional turmoil churning within.

The abruptness of Nari's illness and passing hits you like an unforeseen storm, leaving you grappling with disbelief.

Memories of her last moments flash vividly, and you question the cruel twist of fate that snatched away someone seemingly healthy. The sounds of inconsolable sobbing echo in your ears, and only then do you realize that the mournful cries tearing through the air belong to you.

“Are you alright?” Yuna asks you in sobs.

The weight of grief presses down on you, suffocating and relentless.

As the tears stream down your face, each one carries a piece of the pain that now resides within you.

“No,” you whisper, the word a feeble attempt to encapsulate the magnitude of your despair.

Your body curls inwards, seeking solace in the fetal position, as if you could fold away the anguish.

The phone lies beside you, a lifeline to Yuna's distant sobs, but it offers little comfort compared to the absent warmth of Kitten, whose presence could once bring solace to even the darkest moments.

The weight of Yuna's words hangs heavy in the air, a shroud of truth that you're forced to confront. “Babe, she had cancer and didn't want us to know… She wanted to live a happy life until the end,”

Yuna sobs again, and though her intent is to offer solace, the revelation feels like a cascade of heavy stones on your already burdened heart. The bitter sweetness of her desire for a joyful life juxtaposed with the pain of her silent struggle adds another layer to the grief, leaving you to grapple with the complexities of Nari's hidden battles.

“Yuna…,” you cry, the anguish in your voice echoing the profound pain that seems to squeeze the very life out of your heart.

“Why does everyone leave?”

The question hangs in the air, more rhetorical than expectant, as if you're not seeking an answer from Yuna but grappling with the cruel patterns of departure that life has woven into the fabric of your existence.

Each departure, like a thread pulled from the tapestry of your world, leaves an unraveled piece that never quite knits itself back together.

“I–, I don’t know,” she stammers through her tears, the weight of the unknown echoing in her voice, mirroring the uncertainty that now shrouds both of your lives.

“Promise we’ll be there for each other,” you declare, the weight of the words hanging in the air. It's a poignant plea, an acknowledgment of life's unpredictable twists. You understand that you can't ask for an eternity, but in this moment, you're determined to hold onto each other as tightly as time allows.

“Count on it,” she vows, her response flowing effortlessly, a testament to the unspoken bond between you two.

Despite the tightening in your throat, a glimmer of happiness sparks within you at the assurance she just gave.

Why must life be so fucking cruel, robbing you of everyone you hold dear?

An overwhelming urge to reconnect with your sister washes over you, a deep yearning fueled by the ache of prolonged silence between you.

“I want to call my sister,” you manage to say through your sobs, a desperate plea lacing your words. “Will you be alright, Yuna?” you ask, your concern breaking through the waves of grief that surround you both.

“Yeah. I mean, I'm fucking sad, but go ahead and call her. Can I come to your place tomorrow?” Yuna's voice carries a subtle plea, a shared understanding that neither of you wants to be alone in the midst of sorrow.

“Yeah, I'd love that,” you respond, your voice carrying the weight of grief and the faint glimmer of gratitude for the companionship that awaits tomorrow. As you attempt to dry your tears with a throw blanket on the couch, the room feels emptier than ever, and the ache in your heart persists.

“See you tomorrow,” she says before the call ends.

The hollowness in the room deepens, and you draw in a shaky breath, your gaze fixed on your phone. The background image captures a moment frozen in time, featuring you, Nari, and Yuna.

God, the ache of missing her intensifies, and you can't shake the heaviness in your chest.

You tighten your grip on the phone, each tear that escapes your eyes a silent testament to the pain in your heart. Determination wells up as you locate your sister's number, fingers tracing the familiar digits, ready to bridge the gap that time and distance have carved between you.

The rhythmic ringing echoes through the emptiness of your apartment, each tone a reminder of the solitude that now envelops you.

Anxiety gnaws at the edges of your thoughts as you anticipate the warmth of your sister's voice, a comfort you desperately need. Yet, the unanswered calls amplify the distance that separates you. With a heavy heart, you decide against leaving a message, the weight of unspoken words settling as you slump back onto the couch.

The sudden vibration of your phone startles you, and as you glance at the screen, the sight of your sister's name sparks a mixture of relief and anticipation. With a soft sniffle, you muster the strength to answer, “Hey, sis,” your voice laced with a blend of vulnerability and longing, reaching out across the digital expanse to bridge the emotional gap that separates you.

A chill courses through your body, rendering you motionless, as a deep, resonant voice resonates through the phone, catching you off guard.

“Hey,” his voice echoes through the phone, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your trembling hand clutches the device, and you find yourself holding your breath, caught in the sudden intensity of the moment.

“I'm Detective Kim,” he introduces himself, his voice echoing through the line. It carries a calm demeanor, yet beneath its surface, you detect a subtle undertone of sadness, adding a mysterious depth to his words.

This can't be good, you murmur to yourself, the words barely escaping your lips as a chill courses through your veins, turning your blood to ice once again.

“Are you Jiho's sister?” The detective's voice remains steady and calm, but beneath the surface, you sense an undercurrent of gravity and anticipation.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice catching in a sob as you struggle to contain your tears. The ominous feeling intensifies, and you can't shake the sinking realization that a detective is the one answering your sister's phone.

The air becomes heavy with uncertainty and fear.

“I'm deeply sorry to be the bearer of this news,” he begins with a sympathetic tone.

You inhale sharply, bracing yourself for the impact of the words that follow.

“Your sister has passed away.”

The world seems to shatter around you as the weight of his message settles in, leaving you breathless and heartbroken.

In that devastating moment, it feels as if the very foundation of your existence crumbles.

Your body and soul plummet through a void, each passing second an agonizing countdown to the inevitable impact that will shatter you into a million irreparable pieces.

The weight of grief bears down on you, and you're suspended in a free fall of despair.

You become acutely aware of your breath, or the lack thereof, as if the air itself has turned into a suffocating force, triggering a torrent of violent inhalations, each one a desperate attempt to grasp onto a reality that has just slipped through your fingers.

A heavy silence envelops the room as the detective imparts the devastating truth, each word landing with the weight of a sledgehammer on your fragile emotions. “She was killed,” he utters, the somber notes in his tone resonating like a funeral dirge, casting a pall over the already dim reality of your world.

A suffocating wave of panic crashes over you, rendering your extremities numb and your breath caught in the grip of invisible hands.

The room seems to close in as the detective's voice on the phone becomes a distant echo, his words lost in the disorienting whirlwind of your own mental tempest. It's a struggle to comprehend the standard condolences and procedures he details, as if reality itself is slipping through your trembling fingers.

Fucking hell. Is this hell?

In the wake of your parents' departure, you believed you had tasted the bitterest sorrow, yet today eclipses that agony without a shadow of a doubt.

You cast your phone aside on the couch, retreating to your bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. The anguish within erupts into violent sobs, an unrelenting torrent of tears flooding from your eyes, your entire frame convulsing with the weight of your grief.

You bury your face into the softness of the pillow, muffling the guttural scream that tears from your lungs.

The sound, a primal release of anguish, reverberates within the confines of your room. Screw the neighbors; right now, the universe needs to bear witness to the rawness of your pain.

What the fuck is up with this world? Everyone around you dies! Everyone leaves!

You can’t take it anymore.

As you surrender to the torrents of grief, you hope that tears might offer solace, a fleeting relief that could pave the way for much-needed sleep. Yet, despite your desperate attempts, the embrace of slumber eludes you, leaving you trapped in the clutches of your sorrow-soaked thoughts.

In an impulsive surge, you opt for a nocturnal stroll. Snatching your jacket, you step into the silent night, the residue of dried tears blending seamlessly with the ones that refuse to cease.

The moon above, a silent witness to the turmoil within, as your footsteps echo the rhythm of a heart weighed down by grief.

As you traverse the familiar streets of town, a magnetic pull guiding you to a cherished park, your sanctuary. Swiftly, you arrive and gingerly settle your weary frame onto a weathered bench, the cool night air offering a gentle caress to your battered soul.

As your gaze ascends to the enchanting tapestry of the night, a celestial dance of stars unfolds above. Tonight, the cosmic expanse seems to cradle the spirits of your sister and Nari, their luminous presence illuminating the vast darkness, a celestial reunion among the constellations.

As your tears persist, you fix your eyes upon the star-lit canvas above. Each gleaming star appears like a radiant jewel, casting an ethereal glow across the night. The beauty is undeniable, yet a poignant sadness lingers in your heart.

Compelled by an unspoken yearning, you embark on the solemn task of counting the stars, each one a celestial tribute to the cherished souls who now adorn the heavens.

The question echoes in your mind: Why?

Why do they blaze with such brilliance, akin to a dying star igniting in a final, magnificent burst before consuming everything in its cosmic embrace?

Your heart pounds violently against your ribcage, each beat echoing through your chest, and the air feels elusive, slipping away as if you're caught in a suffocating grip.

Life reveals its cruel nature, leaving you to grapple with the relentless question: Why does everyone leave? Why does the world around you crumble, stealing away those you hold dear?

An emptiness envelopes you, a void so profound it swallows every ounce of light. Darkness creeps in, and an irresistible urge emerges, coaxing you to surrender to its consuming embrace.

Perhaps it's time to release your grip on reality and join the celestial dance of those who have departed before you?

As the tears flow, perhaps this haunting void within will dissipate, bringing an end to the relentless ache that permeates every fiber of your being.

As the weight of loneliness bears down on you, an insidious desire to surrender, to slip into an eternal slumber, creeps through your shattered heart. The yearning for an endless sleep, where the fractured pieces of your soul find solace, consumes you. It's as if the very essence of your being is crumbling into irreparable fragments.

The fragments of your soul lie scattered, and the daunting question echoes in the hollow chambers of your despair—can you summon the strength to mend them once more, to piece together the shattered remnants of your being?

In the depths of your despair, a resolute realization surfaces — a quiet but unwavering knowing that, despite the relentless cruelty, you're not ready to surrender to the void. Life, as brutal as it may be, still holds threads of resilience within its intricate tapestry, and you find an ember of strength glowing amidst the shadows.

You divert your gaze downward, focusing on your hands nestled in your lap, choosing the tangible reality of your own existence over the distant allure of the star-studded night.

You harbor too many aspirations to surrender to despair. Your desires paint a vivid canvas of dreams: to find solace in the embrace of a kind-hearted partner, secure a fulfilling career, and relish the simple joys that life offers. Nari's silent battle with illness inspires you to embrace life with the same gusto, celebrating its moments without the need for validation.

In the midst of your fragmented existence, amidst the shattering pain, you crave it all. Yearning for the entirety of life's tapestry, even when it feels like it's unraveling.

Despite life's cruelty, there's an undeniable allure in its intricate beauty, compelling you to seek solace and embrace the stunning contradictions that define your life.

Amidst the tear-stained path, your resolve solidifies.

The decision made, you tread back to your apartment, the silent witness to your inner turmoil. Each step echoes with the weight of your emotions, a symphony of sorrow playing in the background.

The sanctuary of your home beckons, promising the respite that only sleep, albeit restless, can bring. Sleep, like a long-lost friend, embraces you swiftly this time. Grateful for the solace it brings, you sink into its comforting arms, the reprieve from the turmoil of the day unfolding like a gentle lullaby.

The chime of the doorbell resonates through your apartment, and you're roused from the depths of sleep. Yuna, true to her word, stands on the other side, a beacon of support in your time of need.

Embraced in a tight hug, tears stream down both your faces, the shared weight of grief transforming the silent embrace into a powerful testament of mutual understanding and shared sorrow.

Seated on the couch, you engage in a heartfelt conversation about the unpredictable journey of life—its highs and lows.

As a comforting silence settles between you, you reach for the remote and, with a flicker of distraction, decide on a mindless show. Wrapped in the embrace of shared grief, you find solace in the soft glow of the television, its images casting a gentle veil over your weary souls.

That night, Yuna stays over, a comforting presence that feels like a blessing in the midst of your overwhelming grief.

In the vulnerable hours of the night, you pour your heart out to Yuna.

Tears flow freely as you share the ache of losing your sister, the void left by Kitten's absence, and the fear that Yoongi might be gone forever. In the solace of shared sorrow, you find a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows.

In the tender embrace of Yuna, you find solace. Her comforting presence is a lifeline in the storm of grief, holding you close as tears cascade. Though she's often your pillar of strength, tonight you yearn to reciprocate, to be the support she's always been for you. It's a quiet understanding, an unspoken pact between friends navigating the unpredictable currents of life.

In the quiet depths of the night, as you share your pain with Yuna, a flicker of determination ignites within you. You yearn not just for solace but to become the architect of your own joy. The realization dawns that your happiness lies in the unwritten chapters of your own journey, waiting to be explored and embraced. It's a moment of self-discovery, a commitment to forge your path to happiness, independent and resilient.

With the dawn of a new day, you decide to embark on a journey of self-discovery.

Despite the weight of sorrow lingering in your chest, you resolve to savor life in all its transient splendor—embracing its beauty, acknowledging its ugliness, and reveling in every nuanced shade in between.

Each moment becomes a canvas, and you are determined to paint it with the vibrant strokes of resilience and newfound appreciation.

With unwavering determination, you approached your boss at the café, advocating for a shift in your work hours. The goal? To rekindle the pursuit of knowledge, to step back into the world of academia and reignite the spark of astrophysics that had once fueled your passion.

As the prospect of returning to school looms on the horizon, you recognize that the journey ahead is both a challenge and an opportunity—a chance to sculpt a future that you can genuinely be proud of, with each completed course marking a triumph over self-doubt and a step closer to the constellations of your dreams.

In the wake of that poignant night where two cherished souls departed, a few months have quietly slipped away.

In a tender gesture of support, Yuna encourages you to embrace the prospect of love once more. Unlike before, hesitation has no place in your heart this time.

With newfound courage, you step into the realm of dating, a journey tinged with both vulnerability and hope, as you navigate through the tapestry of emotions woven by the threads of the past and the promises of the future.

Life, a relentless journey, doesn't yield to simplicity, yet within its intricate folds, a subtle transformation occurs. It doesn't unravel swiftly, but with each passing day, it stitches together a mosaic of improvement, a gradual emergence from the shadows into the dappled light of a better tomorrow.

With each sunrise, a symphony of healing orchestrates within you, crescendoing into a melody that resonates louder, and you find solace in the fact that every dawn gifts you a version of yourself stronger and more resilient than the preceding day.

As winter unfurls its icy embrace, you find solace in the familiar touch of your cherished wool coat, the cozy sanctuary of fluffy sweaters enveloping you like a hug from a dear friend, and the softness of warm socks cradling your every step.

With a steaming cup of tea in hand, you dive into your studies, the brisk air outside contrasting with the warmth that courses through your veins.

Embarking on the journey to reclaim an unfinished chapter of your life, returning to the hallowed halls of academia, you revel in the triumphant echoes of resilience as you strive to complete the narrative you once set in motion.

As you tread homeward, the city draped in the melancholy hues of twilight, a fleeting silhouette dashes through the alleys, a phantom of darkness.

For the briefest moment, memories of Kitten's playful escapades dance in your mind, a bittersweet symphony of nostalgia.

A sigh, heavy with the weight of longing, escapes your lips, yet you trudge forward, navigating the shadows toward the warmth of your home.

In the intimate glow of your kitchen, you conjure a culinary masterpiece, a symphony of flavors orchestrated only for yourself. The sizzle of ingredients harmonizes with the rhythmic beat of your heart, a ritual of self-love that has become your refuge.

Many a time, you've crafted these delectable creations, some shared in the company of fleeting dates whose presence, like autumn leaves, brushed briefly against the canvas of your life, but leaving no lasting imprint on your heart.

Midway through the mundane task of stowing away dishes, a subtle and mysterious hum reverberates through your abode, originating from the vicinity of your door.

The air is suddenly filled with a familiar, distant melody—a soft and rhythmic meowing that sends a jolt of excitement through you.

Abandoning your chores, you rush to the door, fingers fumbling with the lock, and there, in all his glory, stands Kitten!

In a flurry of warmth and relief, you scoop up the cold, shivering Kitten into your embrace, quickly closing the door behind him. His meows echo gratitude, and a tender lick against your cheek seals the unspoken bond that time and distance failed to break.

In a million moments, you never fathomed seeing him again. Now, as he rests in your arms, elation courses through you like a celestial symphony, leaving you over the moon with sheer happiness.

His return is a testament to a bond beyond time, a friendship that defies the measure of days. It's not about the duration of his absence; it's about the joyous truth that he returned to you, stitching the fragments of your heart back together.

You rush to your cabinet, your heart pounding with both relief and excitement. Grabbing a can of cat food, you swiftly prepare a feast for Kitten, watching as he eagerly devours the meal, his hunger echoing the void his absence left in your life.

As you stroke Kitten's fur, you can't help but ponder on the mysteries that shroud his disappearance. His body, while not emaciated, carries the silent tales of his adventures.

You yearn to unravel the chapters of his feline escapades, wishing you could converse with him, share the unspoken hardships, and assure him that he's found a forever home in the warmth of your embrace.

In a breathless whisper, you confess, “I've missed you so much,” the weight of your longing carried in the tenderness of your voice.

A solitary tear, a testament to the emotions flooding your heart, escapes and dances down your cheek, mirroring the joy of a reunion long yearned for.

As the echoes of your affectionate words linger in the air, Kitten responds with a gentle purr, a harmonious melody that intertwines seamlessly with the sound of him relishing the meal.

Amidst the soft cadence of Kitten's purring, you find solace in the familiar presence of your feline companion. With a sigh, you decide to share the intricacies of the tumultuous journey you've undertaken since his absence. “So much has unfolded, Kitten,” you whisper, your voice a gentle reassurance, “a lot of shit, but also a lot of good.”

As Kitten finishes his meal, he responds with a symphony of content purrs, gracefully padding over to where you crouch. With a playful nudge against your legs, he seems to convey a silent acknowledgment, a shared moment of warmth and connection between old friends.

In the span of a few days, the void that Kitten's absence left has been filled with the comforting rhythm of his presence. You've poured out your heart to him, recounting the events and emotions that unfolded during his time away, as if catching him up on the chapters of your life.

Kitten, with his attentive eyes and soothing purrs, seems to understand more than most, providing a silent anchor in the storm of your experiences.

As you sink into the soft embrace of your couch, a contented smile plays on your lips. With Kitten nestled beside you, you share a profound realization that has taken root in your heart: ‘I live, so I love.’ The words hang in the air, a testament to the resilience you've found in the face of life's unpredictable twists. The TV hums with background noise, but in that moment, the simple joy of companionship fills the room.

In the quiet solitude of your apartment, you confide in Kitten, the loyal companion who has witnessed both your joys and sorrows. “I don't think he's coming back,” you murmur, a tinge of sadness lingering in your voice. As if attuned to your emotions, Kitten responds with a gentle meow, a feline reassurance that transcends words.

In the rhythmic cadence of your words, a sense of vulnerability emerges. “I know, I know. I don't need a man in my life. I get that,” you confess, your voice carrying the weight of self-awareness.

The clinking of utensils against pots and pans provides a subtle percussion to your thoughts as you continue, “But Yoongi was special, you know? Like he just got me... and I just wish for him to be happy doing whatever he's doing.” The aroma of dinner fills the air, mingling with the unspoken sentiments swirling in the room.

As you delicately feed Kitten some steamed broccoli, the notion of reuniting with Yoongi lingers in the air. “If he comes back, you should meet him – I'll introduce you!” The words spill from your lips, carrying a hopeful melody.

As you reminisce about Yoongi, a fond smile plays on your lips. “He's such a wonderful person. And handsome? Oh, his hands,” you begin, tracing the air with your fingers as if you can feel the texture of his presence. Memories flood back, each detail etched in your mind like a cherished photograph. “Long fingers, veiny hands,” you murmur, the words infused with a hint of admiration that even surprises you. The love for this man reverberates in your voice, a quiet confession to the depths of your feelings.

Kitten's melodic meow serenades the room as he gracefully weaves between your feet, his tail coiling affectionately around your calves like a comforting embrace.

“If you meet him, please don’t claw his back out like you did with that other guy. Yoongi is nice.”

With a heavy heart, you confide in Kitten, the weight of your worry evident in the rhythmic tapping of the spatula against the sizzling vegetables. “It's been nearly half a year, and I can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him,” you murmur, the crackling sounds of the kitchen offering a somber backdrop to your uncertainty.

As the warmth of the meal envelops you and Kitten, you sit together, a silent companionship settling over the room. The simplicity of this moment strikes you, and a quiet realization unfolds – you love your life just as it is.

In the shared silence, you feel a sense of wholeness, a testimony to the goodness found in life's simplicity. Though your heart may still ache at times, you've come to accept that, too, as a part of the beautiful complexity that makes life what it is.

You're keenly aware that time is the remedy for healing, a gentle but persistent force that gradually eases the ache until one day, the pain will be a distant echo of what it once was.

Your weary limbs protest against the demands of a full-time class schedule and cafe shifts, revealing the hidden challenges of your daily grind. Fatigue clings to you like a shadow, and an involuntary yawn escapes.

With a wearied sigh, you address Kitten, your loyal companion in fatigue. “Ah, Kitten, today's been a battle. I'm going to bed early today,” you murmur, dragging your exhausted body to the bathroom in a nightly ritual.

Upon returning to your sanctuary, you find Kitten, already nestled in his customary spot, a comforting presence in the silent embrace of the night.

Sinking beneath the cozy duvet, you surrender to its tender embrace, the fabric cocooning you in a haven of softness. With a gentle pat, you acknowledge Kitten, “Thank you for being here,” you murmur before succumbing to the enchantment of dreamland.

As consciousness tiptoes back into your awareness, the remnants of dreams linger like elusive whispers in your mind. Gently awakening, you open your eyes to find the absence of Kitten.

Your eyes widen in astonishment, and your body tenses as you absorb the scene unfolding before you—a man, peacefully lost in the realm of dreams.

Your gaze follows the cascade of long, slightly curly, obsidian hair that drapes over his shoulders, tracing the contours of his creamy white skin. The play of morning light reveals a well-defined back, drawing your eyes down the elegant curve of his spine until they come to rest on a small, soft, plum-like ass. The realization hits you like a bolt— he's completely naked!

Why is your heart orchestrating a rapid symphony, each beat echoing in your ears like a thunderous drumroll? And what in the world is a naked stranger doing sprawled across your sheets as though he belongs there?

He slumbers in serene oblivion, emitting soft, melodic sighs that weave through the air, his chest gracefully ascending and descending in rhythmic dance with each tranquil breath.

Wait.

He seems familiar.

A gasp escapes your lips as you take a closer look, and the realization hits you like a bolt of lightning – it's Yoongi!

Shock and disbelief intertwine in your chest as you stare at his peaceful slumber.

Confusion and a hint of panic surge through you as your mind races with questions.

Why is Yoongi in your bed, and why on earth is he naked?

How did Yoongi end up here, and where is Kitten?

A myriad of questions spins through your mind, a turbulent storm of curiosity. As you ponder the mysteries, you belatedly notice Yoongi stirring, gracefully shifting to lie on his back.

Your face burns with embarrassment as the realization dawns that he's still completely naked. Heat rises to your cheeks when his half-erect dick brushes against his stomach, prompting you to instinctively shield your eyes, flustered by the unexpected sight.

You wrestle with the dilemma of whether to disturb his serene slumber or let him continue resting peacefully. The soft innocence in his sleeping form makes the decision more challenging, and you lean towards allowing him to bask in the tranquility of his dreams undisturbed.

Gently, you drape the comforting warmth of your duvet over him, a shield against the chill of the room. With nimble movements, you extract yourself from the bed, careful not to disturb the delicate balance of his slumber.

Confusion seizes your thoughts as you grapple with the surreal scenario—Yoongi peacefully nestled in your bed. You wrack your brain, questioning every sober memory, desperately trying to unearth the missing pieces that would explain his presence.

You step into the kitchen, a fleeting sense of unease prickling at your skin as you scan the room for Kitten, but he remains elusive, leaving a trace of uncertainty in the air.

A twinge of melancholy washes over you as Kitten remains elusive, but you console yourself with the hope that he might return, his absence merely a temporary void in your otherwise comforting routine.

You embark on the simple yet intimate act of preparing two steaming cups of coffee—one for yourself and one for the unexpected visitor who occupies your bed.

You seize a handful of aromatic coffee beans from a vintage jar, letting the rich fragrance envelop you as you crush them under the steady hum of your machine. With precision, you measure out the perfect amount, combining it with hot water, allowing the concoction to brew into a comforting elixir.

While the coffee brews, your mind races with bewildering thoughts about Yoongi's unexpected presence in your bed. Puzzlement clouds your senses as you contemplate every conceivable scenario.

Did he let himself in? Was there some mysterious way he could have gained access?

With a touch of anxiety, you even venture to your front door, checking for any signs of unauthorized entry, only to find it securely locked, shrouded in an eerie silence.

You're grappling with the perplexing mystery of Yoongi's appearance in your bed, as if he materialized out of thin air, defying all logic and reason, leaving you spellbound by the inexplicable magic that seems to have woven its way into your ordinary reality.

In the quiet chaos of your thoughts, Yoongi's presence offers more questions than answers, an enigmatic puzzle that seems to defy the ordinary. The absence of Kitten only adds another layer of mystery to the unfolding scene.

As the coffee machine dings, disrupting the contemplative silence, you're left grappling with the surreal conundrum before you, seeking clarity in the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

With the warmth of freshly brewed coffee in your hands, you reenter the bedroom to discover Yoongi, now alert, draped in your duvet, a captivating silhouette in the soft morning light.

Your greeting falters as you nervously stammer, “H–, Hi,” setting the two mugs of coffee on your nightstand. Yoongi's gaze, sharp and feline-like, traces your every move, creating a palpable tension in the air.

An unfamiliar nervousness grips you in his presence, an unusual sensation considering your usual ease around him. Perhaps it's the fact that he's naked, his gaze akin to a predator eyeing down its prey, intensifying the air with an unspoken tension.

“Hey,” finally breaking the silence, he greets you with a low grumble, scratching his head and letting out a lazy yawn.

His body exudes a captivating blend of softness and defined muscles, a captivating sight that—

His voice, laced with a teasing smirk, breaks the tension. “Can't stop staring at my dick, huh?”

Your throat tightens as you realize you've been caught in the act, silently observing him. Panic sets in – does he think you're a freak now? Fantastic.

You let out a nervous chuckle, deliberately shifting your gaze away from the obvious bulge in the duvet around his lap. “What are you doing here, Yoongi? And why are you naked?” you inquire, genuinely puzzled.

He chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a tinge of unease. “You haven't figured it out yet?” he teases, his words hanging in the air, leaving you in suspense.

You must resemble a walking question mark, because his chuckles only intensify. It's as if he finds your confusion amusing, and you're left standing there, desperate for answers in the midst of his enigmatic laughter.

In a soft tone laced with a smirk, he utters, “Kitten.”

Your gaze fixates on him, bewildered. Kitten? Is he referring to your cat?

Your jaw drops as he gracefully emerges from the bed, the duvet cascading off his frame. In his unabashed nudity, he strides toward you.

He inches closer, the proximity almost causing your lips to collide. A surge of warmth courses through you when he delicately tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I’m a shapeshifter,” his revelation hangs in the air, the weight of it palpable, and as he locks eyes with you, searching for any flicker of discomfort, the truth settles. Before you can process it fully, he leans in, capturing your lips with an irresistible surge of passion.

His lips, soft and inviting, embark on a slow yet passionate dance, as if reuniting with a long-lost lover. Responding eagerly, you part your lips, allowing the kiss to deepen, and in that electrifying moment, your entire body succumbs to a sensation akin to melting butter.

You yield to his touch, molding your body to his as you sense the undeniable hardness of his arousal intimately pressing against your core.

Fuck.

In the midst of the heated moment, you draw back slightly to meet his gaze, the question hanging in the air, “So... you're Kitten?”

He offers no verbal response, just a low, affirmative hum, before plunging back into another intoxicating kiss.

You surrender to the sensation, feeling the firm grip of his hands on your waist as they journey upward beneath the fabric of your well-worn shirt.

His touch ignites a trail of sensations, tracing a path across your body, sending electric shivers as he lifts your shirt, gently grazing against the contours of your breasts.

Under the intensity of his gaze, your body responds, a flush of heat spreading through you, your nipples hardening in response. He emits a low, satisfied hum, as if relishing the effect he has on you.

Effortlessly, he works to level the playing field, swiftly undressing you as if in a race against time. With a purposeful tug, he eases your shorts down, a silent declaration of his desire.

Bare before him, clad only in a simple black panty adorned with delicate pink hearts, you can't shake the vulnerability coursing through you. A sudden urge to conceal yourself washes over, a reaction to the raw exposure in this intimate moment.

“Don't shy away, you're stunning,” Yoongi murmurs, his firm grip on your hips drawing you closer to his naked body. The undeniable heat of his arousal presses against your core, a tangible reminder of the desire smoldering between you.

Gratitude escapes your lips in a hushed tone, your cheeks tinged with a warm blush.

“Now, let’s get these off you, yeah?” with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he hooks his fingers inside the fabric of your panties, teasingly tugging them down. He pauses, seeking your consent, before sensually sliding them all the way down your legs.

As he slides your panties down, a sudden awareness of your arousal hits you, intensified by the cool rush of air against your heated core.

As they fall to the floor, Yoongi swiftly snatches up your panties, bringing them to his face to inhale the intoxicating essence of your arousal, his eyes darkening with desire.

Why does that look so utterly sinful, setting off a delicious rush of arousal coursing through your veins, leaving you breathless in its wake?

As the intoxicating scent of you envelops him, he murmurs, “Damn, you smell good,” his eyes dilating with an unmistakable hunger.

“I wonder if you taste as good as you smell.”

In the raw vulnerability of your shared nakedness, he guides your body back to the bed, gently laying you down, his presence a magnetic force, hovering above you.

He immerses himself in the expanse of your neck, a symphony of sensations unfolding – a delicate ballet of tender kisses, followed by the electrifying nip of his teeth grazing the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

You moan in unabashed pleasure, your hands instinctively seeking refuge on his chiseled pectorals, anchoring yourself amidst the rising waves of bliss.

Yoongi's gaze shifts to the mirror positioned strategically in front of your bed. “I've been meaning to ask,” he smirks, locking eyes with you, “why do you have a mirror in front of your bed?”

You squirm beneath him, breath catching.”'It's part of my wardrobe panels,” you admit, your voice a fragile melody.

He chuckles, a low and enticing sound, his smirk dancing on his lips. “I don't think that's why the whole panel is mirrors,” he says, sitting up slightly. His finger traces a slow, teasing path from your collarbones to your breasts, sending shivers of anticipation racing through your body.

He leans in, his breath sending a shiver down your spine, and in a deep, low voice, he murmurs into your ear, “You're a dirty one, aren't you?”

His degrading words make your breath hitch instantly, and you involuntarily clench your thighs together. As you shake your head in disagreement, he just smirks, unconvinced.

His chuckle resonates in the room as he asks, “Do you enjoy watching yourself in the mirrors?” Sitting up, he moves to the foot of the bed, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark.

He gracefully steps out of the bed, casting a predatory gaze as he hovers over you, an aura of irresistible allure surrounding him.

With unwavering determination, he declares, “You're going to watch yourself in the mirror as I fuck your pussy with my tongue.” In a single, fluid motion, he seizes both of your thighs, pulling you to the foot of the bed, sending a thrilling jolt through your senses.

Despite the heat coursing through your entire being, a light chuckle escapes your lips. However, the mirth dissipates as you lock eyes with the intensity in Yoongi's dark gaze.

“Sit up,” his command echoes through the room, and as he gracefully lowers himself between your legs, a thrilling anticipation courses through the air.

From your elevated position, you admire the tousled chaos of his hair, a disheveled masterpiece that only enhances his captivating allure. His eyes gleam with a mischievous spark, a silent promise of the intensity that is about to unfold.

You seize his cheeks with urgency, your voice dripping with desire, a fervent plea escaping your lips, “Fuck. Yoongi, please eat me out.”

He moistens his lips with a teasing chuckle, descending eagerly towards your already soaked center.

He expertly widens the gap between your legs, creating a perfect haven for himself before delving into your pussy with fervent devotion.

With a tantalizing finesse, he starts with a subtle stroke of his tongue along your folds, gradually ascending to the apex of your clit, eliciting a fervent moan that echoes in the room.

As waves of pleasure cascade through you, your fingers instinctively entwine in his tousled locks, gently pulling as he skillfully devotes his attention to the exquisite dance of his tongue and lips on your pulsating core.

Gasping for breath, your anticipation mounts, every nerve tingling with pleasure, as Yoongi's rhythmic strokes across your intimate folds propel you toward a climax, your toes curling in ecstasy.

Pausing momentarily, he murmurs in appreciation, “You taste even better than you smell, Kitten,” his words sending a shiver down your spine.

You're on the verge of asking him about the nickname ‘Kitten,’ but his tongue explores your folds, leaving you breathless and unable to form words.

Your question dissolves in the heat of the moment, the building climax taking center stage as you lose yourself in the pursuit of pleasure.

Lost in the waves of ecstasy, you can't resist the urge to surrender, closing your eyes as Yoongi works his magic with undeniable expertise.

“No, no, no. Look at yourself in the mirror, Kitten.”

“Why do—” before you can finish your question, it fades away on your tongue as Yoongi plunges back into pleasuring your core with a renewed intensity, leaving your thoughts swallowed by the whirlwind of sensations.

As you glance at the mirror, you catch a glimpse of your own blissful expression, framed by Yoongi's tousled black hair nestled between your thighs. The sight is nothing short of breathtaking, a sight of pleasure that leaves you utterly captivated.

The provocative scene unfolding in the mirror intensifies your arousal, your breath hitching in tandem with the escalating desire pulsating through your veins.

“Yoongi, I’m—” your plea catches in your throat as Yoongi skillfully responds, his hand finding your pulsating clit, heightening the pleasure while he continues to ravish you with his insatiable tongue.

His fingers dance in rhythmic circles over your throbbing clit, coaxing the tension from your core. As the knot unravels, a wave of blissful release washes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake.

Ecstasy courses through your veins, your toes curling, muscles tightening, and in that moment, an unexpected surge of pleasure hits you like a sneeze that never comes. You release a symphony of moans, surrendering to the intense climax that Yoongi skillfully orchestrates with his talented tongue.

He continues to suck, savoring every drop of your essence, an insatiable thirst in his eyes matching the fervor of the intimate dance between your bodies.

As the intensity peaks, you gently tap his shoulder, signaling him to withdraw. He complies with a sensual slurp, leaving you breathless and tingling with the echoes of pleasure.

A mischievous grin stretches across his face as he licks his lips, “You're incredible, Kitten.”

You arch an eyebrow, curiosity coloring your tone, “Why do you keep calling me ‘Kitten’? You’re Kitten.”

He erupts in laughter, a symphony that resonates through the room, his chest rising and falling with the melody of mirth, and in that moment, he's a captivating masterpiece.

“Do I really look like a Kitten to you?” he inquires, a playful glint in his eyes as he gently nudges you back onto the bed.

Your words stumble as you search for a response, “Not really,” you admit, offering him a small yet tender smile.

“But you look cute and sweet, like a good Kitten,” he murmurs, his hands exploring the curves of your breasts.

A low moan escapes your lips as he teases your nipples with a playful twist, igniting a fresh surge of desire that pools in the growing heat between your thighs.

As you ache for the feel of his throbbing length, you attempt to grab hold of him, but like a fleeting mirage, he skillfully eludes your touch, leaving you yearning for the intimate connection that inches away with each evasive movement.

“Nah. I just want to fuck you silly,” he rasps, eyes tracing every bead of sweat on your flushed skin, reveling in the primal rhythm of your hurried breaths.

“If you want to, that is?” he teases, his voice a sultry whisper, as he takes control, guiding himself between your legs with a confident hand that promises a morning full of pleasure.

As you feel the weight of his gaze, you gulp, wondering how, in that heated moment, he could question what you crave. It's undeniable – you want him, and the intensity of your desire hangs in the air between you, palpable and unspoken.

Your breath catches as you respond, the words tumbling from your lips in a heated rush, “Fuck, yes, Yoongi. I want you inside me, now,” the urgency in your voice betraying the intensity of your desire.

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as he replies, “Please” with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“‘Please’ what?”

“Say ‘please’.”

You huff, incredulous at his audacity. The desire in his eyes is undeniable, and he seems to enjoy the game. Part of you rebels, tempted to be a brat just to irk him, but the need for his touch overrides any resistance. You crave his intimacy, aching for his dick despite the defiance lingering in the air.

“Fuck this,” you grumble, frustration evident in your voice. In that fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of Yoongi pulling back, as if reconsidering his stance.

“Please! Don’t leave,” you plead desperately, your sincerity laid bare. The smirk on his face deepens, as if savoring the intensity of your plea.

“Please fuck me, Yoongi.”

His satisfaction evident, he rewards you with a swift kiss before aligning himself with your eager entrance, anticipation humming in the air.

Your arousal has reached a point where there's no discomfort, just a perfect fit as he slides into you, your wetness welcoming and enveloping him seamlessly.

He hisses as he eases into your warm, tight walls, and you can feel him doing his best to restrain himself.

You release a breathy huff as he fully penetrates, his balls gently meeting the warmth of your folds.

He lets out a guttural groan as he steadies himself, withdrawing only to plunge back in with an intensity that sends shivers through your body.

In this intimate position, with him above you, every nuance of his pleasure is on full display—the way his nose scrunches in delight, his soft lips occasionally nibbling the bottom one in sheer ecstasy.

Between each thrust, he can't help but express his amazement, his voice low and husky, “Damn. You're so tight.”

You know. It’s been awhile.

As he moves within you with an increased rhythm, his hands find your breasts, skillfully massaging them in sync with his fervent thrusts, creating a symphony of pleasure that courses through your entire body.

Ecstasy courses through you, and in the midst of your fervent pleasure, you can't help but release a breathless exclamation, “Fuck, Yoongi!”

Every skillful thrust seems to find its mark, synchronized with the enticing dance of his fingers on your hardened nipples. Pleasure envelops you, clouding your thoughts in a haze of ecstasy.

Your pleasure intensifies as Yoongi skillfully pinches your nipples, eliciting a symphony of moans that harmonize with the rhythmic dance of his passionate thrusts.

Sensations ripple through you, and the desire to reciprocate Yoongi's pleasure builds within you. You yearn to give him the same ecstasy he's generously bestowed upon you.

Amidst the rhythmic cadence of Yoongi's thrusts, a bold request escapes your lips. Your gaze, laced with desire, meets his, and with a subtle plea in your eyes, you softly murmur, “Yoongi—, I want to ride you. Please.”

With a devilish grin, Yoongi withdraws from your embrace, reclining on the bed, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.

His voice, laced with desire, sends shivers down your spine as he commands, “Then you're gonna watch in the mirrors as you fuck yourself on my dick,” reclining with his head angled towards the mirrors.

Mounting him, you position yourself strategically, both of you reflected in the mirror—a tantalizing image of entangled limbs, the intensity of the moment etched in your heaving, sweat-glistened bodies.

Grasping his throbbing dick, he hisses in anticipation as you deftly align your eager entrance with his cock.

With a fluid motion, you descend onto his rigid cock, your velvet walls enveloping him in a tight, intoxicating embrace.

From below, Yoongi savors the view, his gaze lingering on the contours of your face, as if committing every detail to memory.

You guide the rhythm, your hands finding stability on his sculpted chest, setting the pace as you ride him with a mix of determination and desire.

Your movements cascade, a slow dance that gradually builds momentum, each rise and fall carrying a symphony of pleasure and anticipation.

As you gaze upon your reflection, the flush of arousal paints your cheeks, your disheveled hair framing your face like an unruly halo, and your breasts dance in perfect harmony with the rhythm of your passionate movements.

The person in the mirror seems like a stranger, a sensual revelation you never knew existed within you. The mirrors, always present but never before utilized for sex, now reflect a version of yourself that’s both thrilling and new.

Heat courses through your veins, an intoxicating blend of arousal and empowerment, as you observe your own uninhibited reflection. With newfound vigor, you escalate the rhythm, riding Yoongi more vigorously. His appreciative groans and tender gaze mirror the intensity of the moment.

Unbridled desire takes over as your hands instinctively find their way to Yoongi's neck. Without a conscious thought, your fingers glide over the warmth of his skin, gently encircling his throat.

An electrifying jolt courses through you as you sense Yoongi's involuntary twitch within you, and you catch the ragged rhythm of his breath.

Panic courses through you, and you hastily retract your hands, realizing with a shock that you had unintentionally exerted pressure on Yoongi's throat. “Oh my God! I'm so sorry!” you blurt out, your apology a mix of concern and embarrassment.

“It's fine, Kitten. I like it,” he reassures you with a devilish grin, seizing your hands and guiding them back around his neck, his eyes sparking with a hint of mischief.

You shoot him a concerned glance, pausing your movements to ensure he's okay. Once he reassures you with a nod, signaling his approval, you dive back into the rhythm you had before.

With a newfound boldness, you tighten your grip around his throat, drawing out another satisfying twitch from him. His reaction sends a surge of pleasure through you as he hits that sweet spot, causing a kaleidoscope of sensations that make you see stars.

Your unrestrained moans fill the room, a symphony of desire that intertwines with the rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding. The sight of Yoongi unraveling beneath your touch fuels a primal arousal, and you revel in the raw passion that courses through every fiber of your being.

“Fuck!” you pant.

“I’m gonna come,” you confess, the words escaping on a ragged breath, as you impale yourself on his dick. You’re body trembling as you hold the moment, savoring the anticipation before the inevitable plunge into ecstasy.

With a tender touch, you withdraw your hands from his throat, leaning down to kiss him. Your lips meet his in a dance of passion, tracing a path from his mouth to the very spots your fingers had claimed on his neck moments ago.

His low, guttural groan harmonizes with the rhythm as you ascend, reclaiming your perch on him. The dance begins anew, your body moving with purpose, riding the waves of pleasure set in motion by each calculated bounce on his throbbing length.

Yoongi's hands eagerly envelop your breasts, his fingers dancing with the rhythm of your fervent movements. With each descent onto him, you feel a surge of pleasure building, the shared pursuit of ecstasy driving you both towards the brink of blissful release.

His fingers deftly find your sensitive nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. The sensation is so intense that a fractured, high-pitched man escapes your lips, your back arching involuntarily in the exquisite dance of pleasure and pain.

As your walls instinctively clench around his pulsating dick, you witness the pleasure etched across his face, a delightful scrunching of his features that mirrors the ecstasy coursing through both of you.

“Yoongi, I’m com—,” you gasp, a desperate plea laced in your voice. Your words are unnecessary; the vice-like grip of your walls and the erratic cadence of your breath already convey the impending release that hangs thick in the air.

“Come all over my dick,” he smirks through a groan, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Watch yourself fall apart in the mirror.”

How can this man ignite such an intense flame within you? The knot in your stomach tightens once more, and as you surrender to it, a primal, drawn-out moan escapes your lips, echoing the depths of your desire.

With unyielding eyes, you lock onto your own reflection in the mirror as ecstasy courses through you, marking the moment you climax on his d*ck. Your rhythmic bouncing falters, but Yoongi, sensing your need, seizes your hips and propels the pace, driving you deeper into the intoxicating whirlwind of pleasure.

Your mouth hangs open, breaths rapid and erratic, akin to the aftermath of a sprint, while every inch of your body throbs with the residual heat of a fervent blaze.

“So beautiful—FUCK!” he moans, powering into you with an astonishing velocity, sending shivers down your spine.

His hold on your hips tightens, your hands finding refuge on his sculpted chest for support. Your body teeters on the edge of weightlessness and grounding, as if you'd unravel if Yoongi's firm grasp on your hips faltered.

Despite the fatigue washing over you, a surge of determination courses through your veins. Summoning the last reserves of your strength, you entwine your fingers around his neck once more. You sense the impending release in Yoongi's every movement, and you're determined to be the catalyst that propels him over the edge.

The moment your grip tightens around his throat, a powerful surge reverberates through his dick within you, sending intoxicating waves of pleasure coursing through your body. It's an electrifying sensation, making every touch between you more intense and satisfying.

With an intense squeeze, you lock eyes with Yoongi, a plea in your gaze. “Fill me up, Yoongi.”

In a primal release, he surrenders to the moment, thrusting into you with an erratic rhythm, coating your walls with the warmth of his climax.

“Ahh,” he pants, the rush of air filling his lungs as you release your grip on his neck, both of you engulfed in the aftermath of shared release.

You watch him in amazement as his fervent thrusts subside, and he eases into the embrace of your bed, a portrait of passion painted across his beautiful face.

As he gradually softens within you, you take the initiative to lift yourself off him, both of your essences clinging to your skin, a residue of your shared passion that you welcome without reservation.

As you recline beside him, a soft chuckle escapes your lips, a shared breathlessness enveloping both of you. The air in the room is charged with the echo of passion, leaving a tangible energy that binds your entangled forms together.

Breathless and sporting a satisfied grin, he turns to you, his eyes filled with a post-passion glow. “Fuck that was incredible,”' he murmurs, capturing the shared intensity of the moment in the curve of his smile.

An undeniable contentment colors your voice as you respond, “Yeah,” savoring the echoes of pleasure that linger in the air.

Suddenly, a spark of realization ignites within you, propelling you to move with swift purpose. You crawl back on top of him, a burst of energy that startles him, like a surprise in the midst of shared afterglow.

“Why did you leave me?” you inquire, a tinge of accusation laced with the bitter notes in your voice. “Without a word or a farewell. Why did you disappear without a trace?”

His eyes widen momentarily before giving way to an expression of anguish and sadness. A tug at your heart intensifies, as his face alone tells a story you fear can't be good.

He begins with a heavy admission, meeting your eyes with earnest sincerity, “My brother died.”

Your words stumble out in a rush, “Oh, God! I'm so sorry!” The unexpected revelation leaves you fumbling for the right response.

His words flow, carrying a weight of anger and grief, “It's alright. ButI felt so much anger and grief, you know?” he explains, “so much so that I couldn't shapeshift and was stuck in my cat form.”

You exhale a soft ‘aha’ at his words, and the realization washes over you— he was grappling with his own demons, just as you were.

“When I'm consumed by intense emotions, I lose control of my ability to shapeshift, and, and—” You witness a tearful welling in his eyes, prompting you to gently cup his cheeks, reassuring him that it's okay.

“I just wanted to be alone and I didn’t want to burden you…” A few tears spill from his eyes, and you tenderly catch them with your gentle fingers.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, finding solace in the curve of his neck, where his soft minty scent envelops you like a comforting embrace.

“I am so fucking sorry you had to endure that. I understand, truly. But you would never be a burden to me,” you express, gazing into his eyes with a tenderness that echoes your sincerity.

“I want to be there for you,” you declare, your own tears mirroring the empathy in your eyes.

“Ah, shit. I didn’t mean to cry. But, you know, I understand,” you say, your words accompanied by a wry smile as tears trickle down your face and onto Yoongi’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Kitten. I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

He seizes your cheeks, tugging you into a tender and unhurried kiss. Time loses its grip, and you're oblivious to the remnants of his seed mingling with your essence, creating a slippery trail between your pussy and his still-slick pelvis.

Lost in the rhythm of your kisses with Yoongi, you surrender to the moment, where every touch feels like a missing puzzle piece seamlessly falling into place.

The two cups of coffee are long forgotten.

Authors note (3): Thank you so very much if you have made it this far 😭 I know this story is a lot – I’ve been dealing with a lot of different stuff for many years, and some of it just got to be too much a few weeks ago, and this story popped into my head. It was therapeutic to write. I don’t know if people will like it or not, but in the end, that’s not what it’s about. It will just exist here.

If you struggle with any of these subjects or emotions, you’re always welcome in my inbox – I’m not a trained psychologist or anything, though! But sometimes it is better to voice your feelings, than struggling in silence. Everybody’s welcome 🫂

I hope you’re doing well. Thank you for you 💜

258 notes · View notes

evangelical04 · 6 days

Text

A Single Daffodil || 3

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 11.9K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut, body image issues

Author's Note: is this being posted over a week late? yes but I'm in the middle of exams at the moment eek! on the bright side, I'll be able to work on this more often after this week since most of my exams will be done! and then I have about a month until my job starts so I'm planning to grind!! all that aside, we get to see them get married here, so exciting!! yoongi seems to be having second thoughts hmmm interesting. let me know what you guys think! i love to hear your feedback <33

Taglist:

@yoongisducky @kam9404 @sumzysworld @tarahardcore @viankiss @babystarcandylovejk @ktownshizzle @futuristicenemychaos @igot7fairlyoddparents @baechugff @pb89nv @peachytokki @ratherbfangirling @themwordsblog @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @kimmalik @honeyypages @captainchrisstan @khaimahfe @yoongibaybee

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You nervously smoothed out the skirt of your dress in an effort to calm your nerves but found little success. The day of the rehearsal had come and in less than twenty-four hours, you were to be married. Your hands shook as you grasped the door handle of the entrance to the banquet hall. Hoseok laid a comforting hand on your shoulder before shooting you a reassuring smile. He had decided to attend the rehearsal at your insistence, citing seeing Joohee again as the reason, though you knew he could tell how worried you were.

Mustering a small smile in response, you pushed open the door to see the ceremony space set up with nauseatingly bright flowers and ornate, crystal-laden light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. The chairs were decorated in satin sashes with gold embroidery and the altar was woven around with glittering flowers. Your mother was standing at the edge of the aisle, speaking to the catering service employee. She was dressed impeccably as always, her commanding presence demanding that you look at and respect her. Your father was sitting in one of the satin chairs, scrolling dully on his phone. Your mother noticed you standing by the door and quickly beckoned you over.

As you approached, Hoseok following close behind, you noticed something at the end of the room. Standing at the end of the aisle was Yoongi, clad in the normal black suit you’d seen him in thus far, with his tie loosened and hair ruffled. He was speaking to his mother, who was adjusting his blazer, and his father, who stood off to the side, distantly nodding along. He had yet to notice your arrival, but you were fully enraptured by him. This was what you had been dreaming of since you’d met Yoongi outside that party so long ago, walking down the aisle to see him at the other end, promising your lives to each other in an act of fierce and nurtured love. But that wasn’t what was happening. Hoseok’s grip on your shoulder grounded you as you approached your mother. You could feel his arm laying across your shoulder blades and hanging loosely, but comfortingly, in an effort to brace you for your mother.

“Nice to see you finally made it. You must’ve been in a rush if you only had time to choose that outfit,” your mother stated, not bothering to properly greet you or acknowledge Hoseok. She knew who he was and she didn’t approve of your close relationship with him, but she knew that she couldn’t say anything out loud lest her image be tainted, which is what you were banking on.

Feeling Hoseok’s grip tighten at your mother’s careless words, you tried to subtly placate him, “Hello, mother. I’m sorry I’m late. Will we be starting soon?” Your mother only nodded curtly before turning away to speak to more of the venue employees. You let out a heavy breath before sitting down at one of the nearby chairs, not making an effort to try and greet your father. It’s not like he’d acknowledge you anyway.

“God damn, you need therapy,” Hoseok whistled lowly.

You let out a tired laugh, pulling him down to sit next to you, “Yeah, but we knew that already. Are you sure you’re up to face these guys? It can be a lot.”

Hoseok nodded, smiling kindly at you, before squeezing the hand you pulled him down with, “Of course, I am. I said I was here for you and I meant it.”

You grinned, having missed his fervent support and soothing touch, “Thanks, Hobi. You’re the best.” Hoseok only gave you another squeeze in response.

“Wow, I’m offended,” came a voice from behind you, “I thought I was the best.”

You and Hoseok turned to find Joohee in a simple dress, hands resting on her hips. Smiling up at her, you nodded, “You know you’re in a league of your own. Hobi can’t even compare.”

Hoseok scoffed incredulously, “You’re so fickle, how could you call yourself my friend.”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you leaned back in your chair with Joohee joining, sitting on your other side. Your eyes drifted back to Yoongi, and you startled, finding him looking right back at you. He casually shifted his gaze back to his mother, who was still speaking to him, not sparing you another glance.

“So, that’s him?”

You turned towards Hoseok, whose gaze was pointed at Yoongi’s form. You nodded, “Yeah, that’s him. My…fiance.”

Hoseok studied your sullen form for a moment before grabbing your shoulders and giving you a friendly squeeze, “At least he’s hot!”

Joohee and you laughed at his antics before hearing the large, wooden doors to the entrance open once more. A group of handsome men entered, about four, only one of whom you recognized as Joohee’s older brother. The group approached, laughing together while walking towards Yoongi. Joohee stood, shouting Seokjin’s name, calling him over to your small group. Kim Seokjin smiled at the sight of his sister before breaking off from the group, one of the men following after, while the others continued to Yoongi.

“Hey, Joo, how’s it going,” Seokjin smiled easily, ruffling his sister’s hair. She swatted at him before answering, “Good, but mom’s been on my case lately to come home.”

You looked on in envy, wishing you had a similar, friendly relationship with your own brother. Kyungsoo was nice enough to you, when he cared to acknowledge you. He had been primed by your parents to take over their company since he was young, but they’d made sure that the two of you had stayed competitive academically. Even though you were younger, you tended to do better in your studies, something your parents never let Kyungsoo forget. As a result, he’d grown extremely distant with you and you rarely spoke now. Actually, you weren’t even sure if he was coming to the wedding.

“There’s the bride-to-be! How are you feeling,” Seokjin’s voice boomed, snapping you out of your daze.

You smiled politely at him, “Hi, Jin oppa, it’s nice to see you. I’m feeling alright, as well as I can.”

Seokjin nodded sympathetically, “I know Yoongi hasn’t been the best, but give him some time to adjust. If he’s still an ass after that, let me know and I’ll beat him up.”

You laughed as he puffed out his chest and raised an arm to display his muscles. Joohee rolled her eyes before punching him lightly in his side, “Oppa, no one wants to see that. Here, let me introduce you to Hobi.”

Hoseok stood to greet the older man, no longer obstructing your view of the other man who had followed Seokjin out of the group earlier. He was quite tall, though not as tall as Seokjin, and well built, with tattoos flowing down his hands, curling around the small wrinkles of his fingers. His shaggy black hair framed a boyish face that wore a polite smile. Why did he seem so familiar?

“Jeon Jeongguk,” you blurted out, almost stumbling to stand and confirm your suspicions. He turned to face you, with you now realizing that it was, in fact, the same streamer you’d been following for the past few years. You hadn’t recognized him immediately without his usual garb of sweatshirts, headphones, and piercings littering his face.

“Hi, you’re Seo Y/N, I assume,” he smiled, eyes crinkling. Feeling slightly starstruck, you nodded dumbly.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, Kook, she’s a big fan of yours. She watches your streams all the time,” Joohee interjected. Your gaze shot towards her, sending her a silent message.

You know him? And you didn’t tell me?

Joohee only shrugged sheepishly, Sorry, must’ve slipped my mind.

You gritted your teeth, I’m so interrogating you later.

Jeongguk’s voice called you back to him, “Really? That’s cool, I always love meeting fans.”

Feeling your cheeks redden, you stumbled slightly over your words, “Yeah! I love all your videos, you got me into a couple of new games I didn’t think I’d ever enjoy,” you finished, laughing awkwardly.

Jeongguk took it in stride, bashfully scratching the back of his head, “Thanks, I appreciate that. So you’re into a lot of games, yourself?”

Seeing an opportunity, you relaxed, feeling yourself brighten at the chance to talk about your favorite subject, “Yeah! I actually work for O.K. Gaming in their planning team. I’m not really into MMOs, but I like a lot of RPGs and platformers, my favorite right now is actually this indie one from the U.S. that’s been out for a couple of years, Celeste, it got put on the switch but I played it on my PC. But I’ve been branching out, thanks to you! Watching you play all the old Zelda games made me want to get into it too, but I ended up starting with Breath of the Wild because it looked so pretty, the graphics are just amazing! So are the mechanics, I was really impressed with how-”

“Woah, there,” you heard Hoseok, laying a hand on the small of your back, “You’re gonna scare him away.”

You laughed awkwardly, noticing the shocked expression that painted Jeongguk’s face, “Sorry, I tend to get over-excited when it comes to that stuff.”

Jeongguk seemed to snap back into the conversation, shaking his head wildly with a large grin, “No, that’s great! It’s been a while since I’ve been able to geek out with someone. We should totally hang out, what’s your number?”

You felt yourself slip back into a comfortable smile before taking Jeongguk’s phone to put your number in while he excitedly mentioned the games he was thinking of streaming next. Handing his phone back, he glanced at it before looking back up at you, “Hey, is it okay for me to call you noona? I do the same with Joohee noona.”

Slightly surprised at his forwardness, you nodded, “Yeah, that’d be nice. I don’t think I’ll call you Kook though.”

He laughed brightly, “We’ll work our way up to that.”

One of the other groomsmen called both Seokjin and Jeongguk back to the altar, leaving you to bask in the feeling of having met one of your favorite content creators and becoming friends with him, ignoring Hoseok’s quiet teasing at your geeking out. The bliss didn’t last long though as you heard your mother clap her hands and ask everyone to sit near the front. Hoseok’s hand slipped into your own, giving it a gentle squeeze, along with an encouraging smile, before letting you and Joohee join the others at the front. You’d wished that you could put Hoseok in your wedding party, but you knew your mother would never allow it. You were grateful already that he’d come to the rehearsal despite not being able to do anything the entire time.

You and Joohee took your seats at the front, sitting next to some other young women you recognized from your mother’s galas, likely the rest of your bridesmaids. Your mother had been kind enough to let you choose Joohee as your maid of honor, but you knew she’d only allowed it because Joohee’s family was high up enough according to her standards.

Your mother positioned herself at the altar, addressing everyone with a confident tone, “Now that everyone’s present, I’ll let Mrs. Shin go through the itinerary for today.” Your mother then stepped aside, joining your father on your family’s side of the aisle.

A small, stout woman with her hair in a tight bun and a string of pearls adorning her neck took the stand, “Hello, I’m Shin Miyeon, the wedding planner for this event. For today, we’ll start with a rehearsal of the entrances and ceremony, which will be followed by the entrances for the reception and a run-through of the timings for the dances tomorrow. We’ll end with a joint dinner, and then we’ll be done. Let’s get started.”

Mrs. Shin immediately started directing people, the bridal party being the first, and pairing them up by height to walk together. Joohee was quickly whisked away, leaving you shaking nervously, as this was all beginning to feel a bit too real. The thought was suddenly occurring to you that you really were going to be marrying Yoongi and he absolutely did not want it to happen. Sinking further into your seat, you sent an encouraging, but wavering, smile to Joohee who was paired with her brother due to their similar heights. Your eyes drifted towards Yoongi, who was sitting calmly on the other side of the aisle, swiping through his phone with an unimpressed expression. How could he be so nonchalant about all this?

“Mr. Min, Ms. Seo, please join me at the entrance,” Mrs. Shin’s voice called out, making you raise your head in her direction. You felt your heart rate speed up and your hands clench, you weren’t ready for this. Your vision almost seemed to cloud as it felt like a hand was closing in around your throat, and your breath started to stutter. You absolutely were not ready for this. Your life was about to change, arguably for the worse, and you had to spend it with someone who wouldn’t even acknowledge you. You could distantly hear Mrs. Shin calling your name once more but it felt like you couldn’t move, your body didn’t feel like your own. Gaze lowering to the ground, it seemed like spots were taking over your vision. Your breath continued to quicken and you could feel yourself beginning to fully lose control of your breathing.

This can’t be happening.

You needed to get ahold of yourself, there were people all around you, not to mention your mother and Yoongi. But no matter how hard you tried to ground yourself, the control you had over your body kept slipping away, and it only caused you to freak out further. A pair of smart, black dress shoes came into your view and you lifted your head to see Yoongi looking down at you with a raised eyebrow through your blurry vision.

“Are you coming?”

You forced yourself to hold your breath, letting it out slowly after counting for a few seconds, before nodding and standing on wobbly legs. You didn’t have time to break down, you had a job to do.

Following Yoongi and Mrs. Shin to the entrance doors, you pointedly avoided eye contact with your mother while sending shaky smiles to Joohee and Hoseok. You had to get a grip.

“Alright, let’s go through the order we’ll be going down the aisle. Can the rest of the wedding party please come down here?”

You were squished up against the door with Yoongi at your side as the wedding party took their places to arrive at the altar before you. Setting your eyes straightforward, you resisted any temptation to glance at Yoongi to see his expression. You couldn’t face him after he’d witnessed you almost experience a full-on panic attack. Focusing in on Mrs. Shin’s firm tone was an easy distraction, as you watched her guide your wedding party down the aisle and to the altar. Slowly but surely, she made her way to you and your groom, with Yoongi being directed first.

“You’ll walk before Ms. Seo and take your place next to Mr. Kim at the stand,” Mrs. Shin said, guiding Yoongi toward the other end of the room. You watched as he gracefully strode down the aisle, casually stopping next to Seokjin and turning to face your direction. The action made you pause, almost breathlessly, as your gaze connected. However, his eyes didn’t last long on your form, as they slid over to Seokjin and Yoongi began conversing with him.

You couldn’t help the disappointed feeling in your chest, despite knowing full well you had no right to suffer it. Yoongi wasn’t yours, he would never be, something he had made quite clear in your limited interactions. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel a tugging in your stomach, a pain in your forefinger, at his blatant dismissal of you. Biting your lip, you cursed inwardly, now was not the time to fall even deeper for your husband-to-be.

“Ms. Seo, please follow me. You can hold this in place of your bouquet,” Mrs. Shin said, handing you a nondescript water bottle. A quick glance at Hoseok’s form turned to face you had you confirming that he was making fun of you as you had suspected. You brushed off his giggles and stepped in what you hoped was an elegant manner after Mrs. Shin, following her down the aisle.

You deliberately avoided looking at Yoongi’s face, knowing that he wouldn’t be watching you. Did you want him to?

Yes.

You almost scoffed. What a ridiculous notion. What you were in need of was a good, old reality check, not playing into the fantasy of marrying Yoongi for love. As you passed Hoseok, he whistled wolfishly, earning a disapproving frown from your mother. It was exactly what you needed though, pulling a laugh out of you before discreetly flipping him off from behind the water bottle. You felt the tension leave your body at Hoseok’s familiar antics, finally feeling relaxed for the first time that night. Maybe you could do this, after all.

Reaching the altar, Mrs. Shin proceeded to give minor notes to the rest of your wedding party as you stood awkwardly next to Yoongi. You could hear his soft breaths as he waited patiently for Mrs. Shin to address you both, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at or try to start a conversation with him. Yoongi seemed to be doing the same, keeping his eyes forward and occasionally glancing at his watch.

You felt lonely. You were standing next to the person who was going to be your partner for the rest of your life and yet, you felt a deep and painful distance from him. You could feel his warmth, hear him shuffling beside you, but you deliberately shied away from brushing elbows to solidify the separation between you. Yoongi seemed so calm and indifferent, it made you feel a troubling combination of envy and anger.

Why couldn’t you be as blase as him about this? Why was he so apathetic in the first place? Didn’t he care about you at all? Was he judging you for not being aloof yourself? Why didn’t he want to engage with you at all?

It hurt, to say the least, but the rational part of you annoyingly came to his defense. Realistically, you knew he had no obligation to try and converse with, or even care about, you. So why were you still so hurt?

“Mr. Min, Ms. Seo, please join me at the doors. We’ll run through it again.”

Mrs. Shin’s voice put a halt to your spiraling thoughts, making you register Yoongi turning around beside you. Following suit, you joined behind him, taking a glance at your watch. Only about thirty or so minutes had passed.

You sighed, this was really going to be a test of your endurance.

The cushioned chair felt welcoming, even though your company did not evoke the same feeling. Your mother was sitting across from you and her cold stare made you shrivel into your seat. Hoseok was placed on the far end of the table with Joohee, making them achingly far from you. Yoongi was next to you in a performance pretending this was a willing marriage. Not that the restaurant staff would care.

You scowled internally, lamenting the fact that you couldn’t even eat dinner comfortably. Your mother was sending you cursory glances while talking to Yoongi’s mother, and your dad was talking business with Yoongi’s father, and with Yoongi conversing with Seokjin, you were painfully lonely. You resorted to quietly playing with the napkin in your lap and staring at your empty plate and wine glass in front of you, desperately wishing you could drink to make the dinner easier but you knew your mother wouldn’t approve.

“Y/N noona?”

You looked up, making eye contact with Jeongguk, who was sitting next to you, previously talking to another groomsman with stunning dimples next to him.

“Oh, yes,” you responded, straightening in your chair.

“I wanted to talk to you some more about the games you mentioned earlier since we didn’t get to finish,” he responded, a bright, bunny smile decorating his face.

You felt yourself smile warmly in response automatically, his joy and bubbliness seemed to be contagious, “Yeah, I’d love to. What would you like to know?”

The conversation with Jeongguk proved to be your oasis in the desert of the stale and stiff conversations happening around you, especially between your parents. His encouraging smile put you at ease and made the tension flow out from your fingers. You were grateful that he was so engaging, keeping you distracted from the shifting from the aloof and dominating presence you felt beside you.

Yoongi had remained relatively quiet throughout the whole evening, only having spoken to you when you were on the verge of breaking down. He spoke quietly to his friends, not bothering to introduce you to them, and had barely looked in your direction. Part of you couldn’t deny it upsetting you, but you constantly reminded yourself that this was to be expected.

The both of you had made no commitment to each other outside of appearing as a couple when it mattered, he had no obligation to be friendly towards you. It felt like your mind was going in circles continually trying to keep your emotions in check and avoid crossing the boundaries Yoongi had so clearly laid out.

The thought entered your mind once again, Is this what the rest of your life is going to be like?

It certainly felt that way.

You felt Yoongi shift beside you once again, making you flinch. Thankfully, Jeongguk didn’t seem to notice, too engrossed in describing his most recent gaming obsession with you. You felt hyper-aware of Yoongi’s presence, whether he was right beside you or at the other end of the room. It bothered you how much he affected you, but you almost enjoyed it at the same time.

There was something pleasant about the feeling of falling in love with someone, regardless of whether it was a tragic infatuation or not. The rush of your heartbeat whenever you caught a glimpse of him, the way your breath hitched when you accidentally brushed shoulders, the way your fingers itched to grasp his hand, it all felt so romantic in a way.

Where it all came crashing down was the reality that Yoongi didn’t feel a semblance of the same way. Your spiked heartbeat was met with his indifferent exterior, your hitched breath with his calm and even exhales, and your twitching fingers with his clenched fist. It was detrimental, damaging even, and it was taking a toll on, not only your emotional wellbeing but your self-confidence as well. You were so swiftly rejected by him that it was a blow to your self-esteem. You hadn’t felt particularly great about yourself prior to his crushing dismissal, but you had certainly been in a downward spiral since then.

Too often now you were scrutinizing your appearance in the mirror, choosing baggier clothing while hating the silhouette, and catching yourself while speaking. It wasn’t logical or warranted, but that didn’t stop your overactive mind from whispering your insecurities quietly every day. Maybe Hoseok had a point. You really needed to look into therapy.

“Noona?”

“Oh, sorry, I was just zoning out,” you blinked, tuning back into Jeongguk’s honey-sweet voice.

He smiled sympathetically, something you seemed to be on the receiving end of a lot lately, “That’s okay. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m alright,” you nodded, not wanting to divulge the cacophony of thoughts swimming around in your head, “Please, continue with what you were saying.”

Jeongguk’s energizing smile made a reappearance, making you relax further into your chair. You let his dulcet voice lull you into a comfortable conversation for the rest of the dinner, trying not to react whenever you felt movement beside you.

“Thank you all for coming, we appreciate your being here. We’ll be meeting at the venue tomorrow at nine, so please be sure to be on time,” your mother concluded, your group standing outside the restaurant. With that, the crowd slowly dispersed, your parents speaking to Yoongi’s at their cars and the bridal parties filing out into respective vehicles as well. You leaned back into Hoseok’s firm torso, letting his arm encircle your waist and his chin rest on your shoulder.

You didn’t often let people touch you, but Hoseok was a rare exception, having broken your barriers down in college, and served as a comforting touch whenever you needed it. It evolved into more casual affection, a similar version being displayed between Hoseok and Joohee, and you accepted it as just part of his personality. You knew how it looked to people around you but you simply didn’t care, Hoseok was a good friend, and you’d be damned if you were going to refuse the little human contact you allowed.

Joohee was talking animatedly to Hoseok about something or other, you weren’t really paying attention. Hoseok’s warmth soothed you, making your eyelids fall in the exhaustion from the day’s events. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught your mother frowning at you, but you paid no mind. For the first time since the announcement, you wondered if she’d finally leave you to your own devices now that you were doing the ultimate show of subservience to her.

Kim Seokjin’s booming voice startled you from Hoseok’s grasp, making him switch to leaning against your car door. You spotted Seokjin’s tall figure making his way over to you, the other groomsmen following behind. Yoongi was also tailing Seokjin, making you stand up straighter and try to steel your expression.

“Joo, Y/N, we’re gonna go for some drinks to celebrate Yoongi’s bachelordom ending, want to join? You’re welcome too, of course, Hobi,” Seokjin smiled kindly. You almost flinched at the mention of Yoongi’s bachelor lifestyle ending, apparently, he hadn’t told his friends about the rules he’d set.

Joohee’s face hardened towards Yoongi, apparently realizing the same thing you did, before turning sickeningly sweet towards her brother, “No thanks, oppa. We’re gonna head back to Y/N’s.”

“Oh, c’mon, noona,” Jeongguk looked at you imploringly, eyes shining, “It’ll be fun! We can hang out more!”

You smiled apologetically as you felt Hoseok wrap a protective arm around you, noting that he was probably on the same page as Joohee, “Sorry Jeongguk, maybe next time.”

Jeongguk shrugged, turning to the other groomsmen, the dimpled man with tan skin and a model-esque-looking man with dark eyebrows and lighter hair. Seokjin furrowed his eyebrow slightly, mouth upturning into a small frown, “Well, okay, but I’ll be taking you out to celebrate at some point, Y/N. Mark the date!”

You laughed quietly, waving him off with an acquiescing nod. The men filed back towards their respective cars, heading to bars or someone’s house, you assumed. You began turning further into Hoseok to face your car before realizing that Yoongi was still standing there.

Pausing, you looked at him questioningly, feeling Hoseok’s grip tighten. Yoongi’s dark eyes narrowed at your intertwined forms.

“Do you need something, Yoongi-ssi,” Joohee asked in a clipped tone. You almost cringed at the blatant contempt.

“No,” Yoongi responded quietly, “I don’t. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” He nodded politely in your direction before turning to walk back to his car, pausing for a last glance at your bemused face.

“What was that,” Joohee scoffed, flipping off Yoongi’s silhouette.

You shrugged, not knowing what to make of it either, “C’mon, let’s just go home. I need to get drunk.”

Joohee entered your car and you were just about to follow before Hoseok pulled you back, making you almost stop in your tracks.

“Y/N,” he sighed, looking into your eyes, “Are you really okay?”

You pulled your hand out of his, tired of being treated in such a fragile manner, “Yes, I’m fine. As good as I can be. I just want to go home.” You felt bad for snapping, but you were irritable after a long day and you wanted to get out of your dress and wipe off your makeup. You turned back towards the car before Hoseok spoke again.

“I know,” Hoseok said softly, “But there’s something off about him. I can’t place it. It was the way he looked at you, especially when I was hugging you.”

You twisted your head in his direction quickly, “Stop. Seriously, Hoseok, I really don’t need to be thinking about that. The last thing I need for this stupid infatuation is to think that there’s something there when there isn’t. I don’t need you putting those kinds of thoughts into my brain.”

Hoseok recoiled before scratching the back of his head and shooting you an apologetic glance, “You’re right, sorry. Let’s just go home, yeah?”

You both entered the car, Joohee leaning forward from the backseat to glance at the both of you.

“Is everything cool with you guys,” she questioned, likely having witnessed the scene outside the car.

“Yeah, just fine,” you said bluntly, gripping the steering wheel. What were you doing? Hoseok was just expressing concern. You didn’t have a right to get so worked up and take out your anger on him.

Sighing, you let yourself relax into your cushioned car seat, turning towards Hoseok who was in the passenger seat, “Sorry, Hobi. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s totally fine,” Hoseok smiled comfortingly, “Don’t even worry about it. I know how stressed you’ve been.”

“No,” you protested, “That isn’t an excuse. You were just looking out for me.”

Hoseok laughed jovially, “Hey, it’s fine, I promise. If anything, I’m glad to see you letting out some emotion, I was beginning to get worried that you didn’t get angry anymore.”

“Oh, she can get angry, alright,” Joohee mused from the backseat, “You’re just not around to see it anymore.”

You laughed, feeling relief at Hoseok’s easy acceptance of your apology. You started up your car, pulling out into the street.

“Let’s go get shitfaced in your living room,” Joohee cheered from behind you, Hoseok laughing along loudly.

A smile formed on your face, making you chuckle at Joohee’s exclamations. You were lucky, luckier than you thought initially. Even with everything going on, you felt your heart fill at your friends’ gracious and kind attitudes toward you. You continued driving to your apartment, feeling a touch more confident about your ability to get through tomorrow relatively unscathed.

Your dress felt constricting, but not in a way that a seamstress could fix. Despite your unfounded confidence the night before, standing behind the closed doors of the aisle sent a fresh wave of anxiety through your veins.

How were you going to get through this? Yoongi was waiting on the other side, at the end of the aisle, about to become your partner for life. Except, you weren’t going to be his partner in the same way.

Initially, Yoongi was supposed to walk down with you, your entourage partnered up like you’d practiced at the beginning of yesterday. But Mrs. Shin didn’t like the visual, making her change it to a more traditional style ceremony. Go figure that she wouldn’t think the sight of you and Yoongi walking together

A sick nausea curled in your stomach, making you clench the audacious bouquet, letting a few petals fall to the floor. You felt a hand clasp your shoulder, making you turn, seeing Joohee’s concerned frown.

“Hey, it’ll be okay, I’ll be right there. You can do this,” she squeezed your shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, I can do this,” you repeated, attempting to calm your nerves. A small voice in the back of your mind whispered, wondering if Yoongi had the same nerves.

The thought almost made you scoff, there was no way. Nothing much in his life was changing other than getting a roommate he had to take to galas.

You knew that wasn’t a fair sentiment. Yoongi was as negatively affected by this arrangement as you were, he was just taking a more emotionally removed approach. Maybe you should learn from that.

Mrs. Shin appeared next to you in a flurry, “We’re about to open the doors. Are you ready?”

You nodded stiffly, knowing the answer was that you’d never be ready to marry Min Yoongi.

Hearing the muffled piano begin to play, signaling the start to your bridal party’s entrance, you released a heavy breath, trying to paint on a passive exterior. Joohee whispered some small last bits of encouragement your way before taking her place in front of you.

The doors slowly opened, letting your bridesmaids walk down before you. You could feel your hands trembling.

Hidden from the audience’s eyes beside the door, Mrs. Shin gestured at you, mouthing that you were up next.

Taking a moment to close your eyes, you steeled your nerves and took a step forward. You could do this. It was just a walk, that’s all it was.

You repeated the mantra in your head as you took more and more steps down the aisle, focusing your gaze on the ornate carvings above the altar. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed your mother gesturing for you to smile, and you responded automatically, letting a small smile adorn your mouth. It felt hollow, but that wasn’t what mattered.

As you approached the altar, your gaze naturally shifted down to Yoongi, who was poised in a statuesque manner. He looked radiant, the black suit fitted perfectly to his chest and tapered at his waist. His charcoal hair was styled, showing his forehead, displaying his clear, smooth skin. His hands were clasped in front of him, your eyes tracing the outlines of his fingers, and his aura exuded confidence. You purposefully kept your gaze away from his face, not wanting to see the expression that he wore.

Reaching the steps up to the altar, you carefully climbed each one, making sure not to trip over the hem of your dress. You took your place next to Yoongi, feeling him turn to face the officiant. As the officiant began speaking, you felt yourself breathe out slowly, trying to recover from the initial stress. You had the first step done, the rest wouldn’t be so hard.

Thankfully, you could zone out for most of the ceremony, with the officiant droning on in your ear. Most of this was for show anyway, you didn’t really need to seem present. It was lucky that you were facing away from your audience, allowing your eyes to glaze over and subtly stifle yawns.

You barely processed Yoongi’s presence throughout the ceremony, trying not to glance in his direction. He hadn’t really acknowledged you, but it didn’t surprise you. In a way, it almost pained you that you were getting used to his apathy this quickly.

Another blessing came in the form that you didn’t have to recite vows. The attendees of the weddings had seen far too many arranged marriages to sit through another cycle of canned and rehearsed vows. It felt especially lucky to you as well in that you wouldn’t have to look into Yoongi’s eyes as you declared your devotion to him.

The ceremony itself quickly came to an end, and you were forced to turn to Yoongi, making eye contact accidentally for the first time that day. It sent a rush of heat to bloom in the apples of your cheeks and the pace of your heart quickened. It felt pathetic, really, to let him have that effect on you.

You extended your hand as Yoongi gently took it, sliding the cold metal of the ring onto your finger. Your hands felt numb from staying in place so long during the officiant’s speech, but Yoongi’s warm touch sparked new life in them, making them tremble in his grasp.

Letting out a shaky exhale, you took Yoongi’s hand in your own, noting the smooth planes of his palm and long digits. You internally cringed at your quivering fingers as you slid Yoongi’s own obsidian wedding band onto his finger. Letting go as soon as you were done, you let your hands fall back down to your sides. You pointedly avoided any eye contact with Yoongi, knowing what was next.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

It felt like the air was sucked from your lungs. You knew this was coming yet it still scared you. You weren’t so much afraid of the kiss, you’d kissed plenty of people, but you were afraid of what it would ignite in you.

Yoongi left you no room to hesitate as he grasped your cheeks and gently tugged you toward him, almost making you stumble. Your eyes widened as he leaned it, his own closed. Reflexively, you almost pulled away.

“Relax,” you heard him whisper, too quiet for even the officiant to hear, the warm breath from his words gently caressing your mouth. But you couldn’t stop shaking. You clenched your eyes shut as he leaned in closer before feeling the skin of his thumb covering your lips. His thumb pressed against your lip for just a second before he pulled back entirely, dropping his hands back down to his sides.

You hovered, unsure of what just happened. Did he cover your mouth for the kiss? You weren’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, you were admittedly relieved, not wanting your first kiss with Yoongi to be under these circumstances of obligation, and it certainly spoke to his respect for your own consent. Even though you were sure there wouldn’t be any more chances for a kiss anyway.

But a more sinister and greedy part of you wished he hadn’t shielded you, craved the soft touch of his lips against your own. You, ashamedly, wanted to share a romantic moment with him, even if it was a guise for a happy marriage. Just feeling his slightly calloused fingers grazing your cheeks was enough to leave you wanting more.

Applause startled you out of your trance, making you turn towards the audience and plaster a smile on your face. Scanning the crowd, you spotted Hoseok clapping, sending you an encouraging smile. You breathed out, feeling minutely comforted by his sweet smile.

Yoongi took your hand, holding it, as you began walking down the aisle. You’d practiced this yesterday, so your body was almost numb to the situation of his thumb rubbing against your forefinger.

Almost.

A nasty thought slithered its way into the forefront of your mind.

That was the same thumb that he covered the kiss with.

As you walked down the narrow pathway, making sure to smile at the sea of guests your mother had invited, you could feel your gaze growing hazier. This was all getting to be a bit overwhelming. Your feet were hurting in the heels your mother had made you wear, the jacquard of the dress was starting to dig into your skin at the bust, the hairpins lining your hair were hurting your scalp, and the scent of Yoongi’s cologne was intoxicating.

You and Yoongi reached the end of the aisle, walking past the doors and letting them close behind, leaving the both of you a few minutes to catch your breath before you were whisked away from the reception. Yoongi quickly separated from you, taking a water bottle from an attendant and downing almost half of it. Your hand felt cold suddenly.

Another employee offered a water bottle to you as well, and you gratefully accepted, taking a swig immediately. The cool liquid soothed your scratchy throat, feeling it go down with it being the only thing you’d had today by way of food. The attendants then gestured for you to follow them into separate changing rooms, preparing hanboks that your parents had wanted you to wear during the reception.

Letting the attendant dress you in the hanbok gave you time to process what had just happened. You were now married to Yoongi. You had filled out the paperwork about a week prior, but the bells and whistles of the ceremony made it feel much more real. Sighing, you took solace in the fact that the hardest bit was done.

But was it really?

Now, you had to sit through a reception, thanking guests for coming and pretending like Yoongi actually liked you. Exchanging recycled pleasantries and fake smiles with your parents’ social circle and business partners was less than appealing.

The employee quietly told you that she was finished and moved aside to let you look in the mirror.

You tried to be happy about how pretty you looked, but all you could see were your bloodshot eyes and the slightly cakey makeup trying to hide your eye bags. At least the hanbok wasn’t as tight as your dress.

Exiting the dressing room, you caught sight of Yoongi in his dark blue hanbok with white pants. He looked striking, as always, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be starstruck at this point in the day. You just wanted to go home and lie down. You were led to the reception hall where guests were already mingling for cocktail hour while the food was being prepped to be served.

A man whose name you didn’t know announced your arrival and the guests turned in your direction and began to clap. Yoongi grabbed your hand in his once more, the suddenness of the action making you flinch. You entered the hall, smiling and greeting guests politely. You couldn’t even recognize anyone staring back at you.

Yoongi led you through all the guests expertly, exchanging greetings and small talk smoothly like he’d done this before. You felt like you were in a trance, repeating the same pleasantries and shallow questions. How was he so good at this?

You finally reached the end of the guests, moving to your bridal parties. You hadn’t even seen your parents, your mother was probably talking to guests herself. Joohee pulled you into a tight hug, holding it for a second longer before releasing you with a comforting smile on her face and sympathy in her eyes. The other bridesmaids didn’t bother going beyond quick congratulations, which you were grateful for. You didn’t know them anyway. Hoseok was next to Joohee, also immediately encasing you and attempting to ruffle your hair, but you moved your head out of the way. He stepped back, taking a moment to look at you before speaking.

“You’re doing well.”

Your eyes became watery as you mustered up a shaky smile, something about him praising you for what felt like thankless effort almost pushed you over the edge, “Thanks, Hobi. Love you.”

“Love you too, always.”

“Hey, I love you too,” Joohee protested, making you bark out a laugh.

“You’re my number one, Joo,” you smiled, taking her hands and squeezing them. She grinned widely in response before punching Hoseok in the arm.

“Ow, what the heck,” he grumbled.

“Because I love Y/N more than you,” she responded petulantly, leaving Hoseok to only roll his eyes in response.

The antics made you smile, giving you room to breathe in the stifling room of business partnership discussions.

“Y/N,” Yoongi’s deep voice rumbled, making you freeze before turning to face him. His eyes laid on your figure in what felt like a scrutinizing manner, making you squirm under the heavy gaze.

“I’d like you to meet my groomsmen,” Yoongi stated, gesturing behind him, “You already know Jin hyung.”

You nodded mutely, sending an unsure smile in Seokjin’s direction. Why was he doing this? He hadn’t bothered to introduce you to them before, why did it matter now? Were you supposed to introduce Hoseok too, then?

“This is Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi continued, moving his hand to clap the tall, dimpled man’s shoulder. The man smiled politely, the dimples faint with the minute movement, and stepped forward, putting out his hand, “Hi, I’ve known Yoongi since college. It’s nice to meet you.”

You shook his hand, feeling quite exposed under his dragon-like eyes, “Nice to meet you too. I like your hair.” It was a rule that you’d made with yourself, to try and give at least one compliment to each new person you met. You found that it made them much more open and friendly towards you, and it didn’t hurt to receive compliments in return.

“Thanks,” Namjoon said, smile widening and deepening his dimples. His firm grasp on your hand grounded you, but you still felt your cheeks grow hot at the contact. Why were all of Yoongi’s friends so hot? “I like your hair too,” he finished. You smiled in response, pulling your hand away before your blush became too obvious.

“This is Kim Taehyung,” Yoongi’s voice pulled you out of the stupor Namjoon’s visual put you in, “I met him a bit after college. He’s a pretty famous jazz performer.”

The model-esque man from the previous day stepped forward, rendering you speechless. Seriously, what was with this friend group? His elegant cheekbones and narrow nose perfectly complemented the kind eyes that adorned his face, and the sandy blonde hair that fell on his forehead. He quickly took your hand in his, kissing the top, making you gasp in response.

“You have beautiful eyes,” Taehyung said, his voice was a smooth baritone that sent shivers down your spine. He looked up from your hand, eyes hooded from his brow bone, making you quickly pull away at the stunning visual.

“Thanks,” you stammered, trying to collect your thoughts, “You have a pretty smile.”

Taehyung’s face broke out into the aforementioned expression, an adorably contagious boxy smile, as he straightened up, “Thanks!”

“I actually listen to some jazz myself, though not that much,” you mentioned, wanting something to connect over, “I’ve been very into Kenny Garrett recently.”

Taehyung’s smile brightened, letting out a low chuckle, “Yes, he’s pretty great. You should come to one of my shows then, I’ll send you a ticket.”

You heard Yoongi clear his throat.

“You and Yoongi hyung a ticket, of course,” Taehyung finished, winking at you before turning away to greet Hoseok.

“And, lastly, this is Jeon Jeongguk. He’s the son of one of my father’s friends, so we grew up together,” Yoongi concluded, but Jeongguk interrupted.

“Hi, noona! You look so pretty,” Jeongguk smiled, excitedly hugging you. You laughed in response, patting his back before retorting, “Thanks, you look pretty too.”

Jeongguk pulled away, laughing jovially, “Thanks! I told Yoongi hyung we already talked but I don’t think he believed me.”

You stiffened, glancing at Yoongi, whose face was impassive, “Oh, I see.”

Yoongi stepped forward, blocking Jeongguk from your sight, “And who’s your guest?”

“Oh,” you stuttered, flustered by his closer presence, “This is Hoseok. We met in college, but he lives in Busan now. Well, not for much longer, he’s looking to move here,” you rambled.

Hoseok chuckled before placing a hand on your shoulder, “Hey, I’m Jung Hoseok. It’s nice to meet you.”

Both men shook hands before Hoseok returned to your side, “I’ve been by Y/N’s side ever since our first year, it’s a surprise I’ve lasted this long,” he finished with a short laugh.

You elbowed him in the side, only making him grimace and slip his hand down to your waist for a teasing squeeze, “I work a dance studio in Busan but I’m planning on opening my own here.”

“Impressive,” Yoongi stated in a monotone voice, “You two must be close.”

“The closest,” Hoseok grinned, pulling you flush to his side, causing you to struggle, “We’re very familiar.”

Oh no.

That’s Hoseok’s shit-stirring voice, you knew it well. One glance at his sardonic grin had you wrestling out of his grip and trying to move on in the conversation to avoid whatever Hoseok was planning, “Yeah, we and Joohee are all really good friends. We were practically inseparable until Hoseok moved. We should all get lunch together sometime so you can get to know them better.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Yoongi said, almost eerily calm, eyes set on Hoseok’s impish smile.

You deflated at his words, forgetting for a moment that Yoongi didn’t want you to mix personal lives. It was embarrassing to say the least, and you felt like you came off as desperate. You felt yourself curl inwards before muttering a quiet, “Sure.”

Yoongi sent a curt nod in Hoseok’s direction before turning away to return to his own friend group, leaving you flustered and disconcerted next to Hoseok. He grinned triumphantly before noticing your abashed state, quickly pulling you into a soothing hug.

You pulled away, not wanting to be embarrassed anymore tonight, and reached for a passing waiter’s tray of champagne. You didn’t usually drink at public functions, but you felt like this was a worthy exception. The bubbly liquid felt necessary to get through the rest of the night, and you welcomed the warming sensation enthusiastically. You didn’t catch Hoseok’s concerned gaze nor the other stare that fell on your form from a far darker pair of eyes across the table.

You were exhausted. Every limb in your body and your brain itself were screaming out with soreness and fatigue. It felt like a light at the end of a tunnel when guests began filing out and the party came to a close.

You were decently buzzed, but still sober enough to be aware, from the multiple champagne glasses you drank. Joohee had made sure to keep you well hydrated, somewhat numbing the effects of the alcohol on your body.

The rest of the reception had gone by quietly, with you and Yoongi separated for the majority of it, greeting what guests you hadn’t and barely talking during dinner. You were conflicted, somewhat grateful for the ease the lack of Yoongi’s presence gave you, but also finding yourself missing his confident aura.

You waved the last guest out, before letting yourself collapse on a nearby chair. Joohee patted your shoulder and Hoseok wandered off to grab your belongings so that you’d be ready to go. Your mother closed the door to the room before approaching you, Yoongi’s parents in tow.

“Yoongi,” his mother called, pulling him away from his friends who were seated at another table. He approached, arriving at your seat at the same time as your mother.

“You’ll be going home in the car we’ve called for you,” your mother stated, leaving no room for argument. You were going to stay in Yoongi’s apartment now, “I assume your things are already there?”

You nodded timidly.

“Right, well, we’ll leave you to it. Would you like to join me and Woohyun for some drinks,” your mother asked Yoongi’s parents.

“Yes, of course, we’ll have a driver take us to your home. Yoongi, be good now,” his mother said, patting Yoongi’s shoulder and giving you a polite smile. You mustered up what you hoped was a smile in response, but you wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a grimace instead.

Your mother offered you no goodbye and instead gathered your father and gave some closing instructions to the cleaning staff, before swiftly exiting. You were left looking at Yoongi, who was mouthing something to his friends, waiting to see what he would do.

Joohee squeezed your shoulder before leaving you to help Hoseok with your bags. Hoseok didn’t really need help as you didn’t have much except the clothes you’d arrived in and some electronics, but you could tell Joohee wanted to escape the tense atmosphere. You couldn’t blame her.

Yoongi turned toward you, making you stand automatically to meet his gaze, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, let me just,” you started before being interrupted by Hoseok arriving with your bag. You chuckled awkwardly as Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, watching you take the bags from Hoseok. Joohee was next to him, fiddling with her phone in an effort to not engage, you assumed.

“Are you leaving,” Hoseok asked, to which you nodded in response, “Well, have fun. Call me anytime, I’ll always be there.” He pulled you into a hug, making you melt in his embrace. You soon felt Joohee’s arms wrap around you as well, “Me too, we’ll talk later.” They released you before giving you encouraging smiles. You couldn’t say you felt the same level of confidence.

Facing Yoongi, you gathered your bags, noting his one bag at his side, likely containing his suit. He nodded curtly at Hoseok and Joohee, who waved in response, before turning on his heel and walking towards the door. You stumbled after him, waving a messy goodbye to Hoseok and Joohee, and finally catching up to Yoongi holding the door open for you. You tried to muster a grateful nod, but seeing his cold expression, you moved quickly to get out the door.

Awaiting your arrival outside was a sleek, black car, with a chauffeur standing patiently holding the door open to the backseat. You took a quick glance at Yoongi, who gestured for you to enter first, so you did, leaving your bags sitting outside. Yoongi climbed in afterward, quietly asking the driver to put the luggage in the trunk. The two of you sat in silence, waiting for the driver to finish packing the luggage away.

It was finally over.

Somehow, it didn’t feel that way. The relief you’d hoped to feel was nowhere to be found and you were left with only the biting anxiety that Yoongi’s silence incited. You played mindlessly with the seams of your hanbok, finding it slightly uncomfortable to sit in the backseat with. Yoongi didn’t seem to share the same discomfort, scrolling idly on his phone and not acknowledging your presence.

You wished you could do the same, but you’d left your phone in your bag after not having used it all day. Instead, you turned to the scenery outside your window to keep yourself occupied. The driver soon started up the car and began heading to Yoongi’s apartment. Watching the scenery fly by gave you time to think about what was waiting for you there.

You hadn’t visited Yoongi’s apartment yet, too afraid and uncomfortable to set foot inside a space so truly and specially his. Most of your things from your own apartment were apparently already set up, courtesy of his maid, Mrs. Lim, whom you had been in contact with when you first dropped off your things. You had been in a rush, trying to get to a dress fitting, and Mrs. Lim had insisted that you give everything to her and that she would make sure it would be ready for you when you came.

You supposed now was that time.

Yoongi was still silent beside you and you weren’t sure what to say to him. You hadn’t really spoken for the rest of the night after his odd introduction to Hoseok. It frustrated you how the little things he was doing kept messing with your head.

You weren’t an idiot, you knew that his actions could point toward jealousy, but you refused to consider that as a possibility. Not only would it contradict his entire attitude towards you, but you couldn’t allow yourself to feel even a sliver of hope that Yoongi might harbor feelings toward you. The constant self-regulation was taxing and you dreaded the idea that this would be your future, constantly reminding yourself that your husband doesn’t love you and to not get confused.

Your thoughts halted with the car as the driver pulled into the entrance of the large building that housed Yoongi’s apartment. It was dark, so you gladly accepted the help of the chauffeur in getting out of the car. He kindly handed you your bags before bowing and driving away. You didn’t have access to the building yet, having called Mrs. Lim for your past visits, so you looked helplessly at Yoongi to unlock the door.

He didn’t spare you a glance as he punched in his code and stood aside to let you in. You nodded in thanks anyway and shivered at the cold nipping at your cheeks. Yoongi led you to the elevator, pressing the 9th-floor button, silently standing in the opposite corner from you.

Sighing internally, you almost laughed at the blatant display of the contempt he held for you. For the first time, you thought of him as slightly immature.

The elevator doors slid open and Yoongi led you to a hallway with only four doors, each housing a penthouse apartment. The farthest door was Yoongi’s, you learned, as he held his thumb up to the pad before hearing a click and pushing the door open. Mrs. Lim was immediately there to greet him.

“Mr. Min, let me take your things. Oh, Ms. Seo! Here, I’ll take your bags to your room. Wait, should I call you Mrs. Min, now?”

You smiled at the sweet, older woman, nodding your greeting, “Hi, Mrs. Lim. Please, just call me Y/N.”

She smiled at you, taking your things and rushing off to the upstairs portion of the apartment. It left you standing awkwardly next to Yoongi, who was typing something out on his phone. You took the moment to let your eyes wander around the sparkling apartment. It looked straight out of a catalogue with cool tones and neat furniture with an open concept. He had smooth, black leather couches surrounding a large TV with a path into a dining room that housed a large table and comfortable-looking chairs. That was next to a large kitchen with a wide counter in the middle and a sleek, silver refrigerator and oven. It looked nice, but not welcoming. You preferred warmer lighting and more touches of color, with some plants, but you reminded yourself that this wasn’t your space to customize.

Or was it? You weren’t really sure. It felt like you were invading Yoongi’s home, but wasn’t it your home now too? Should you be able to decorate it to your liking as well? Or at least compromise? The thought of addressing that now felt too overwhelming and you didn’t want to piss off Yoongi so early into your stay.

“You can go change and get ready to sleep. We can discuss the ground rules now or tomorrow morning, your choice,” Yoongi said, snapping you out of your observation of the apartment.

You nodded absently, wondering what other rules he had, “I can come down after changing.”

Yoongi hummed in response before taking off to the stairs, evidently going to change himself. You stood awkwardly by the entrance, not knowing exactly where your room was, and decided to take hesitant steps toward the stairs.

“Oh, Ms. Seo, let me help you to your room,” came Mrs. Lim’s comforting voice from the top of the stairs. You gratefully accepted her help and followed her through the halls as she gave you a tour.

“Over there is Mr. Min’s office, and just next to it, his bedroom. He has another office downstairs for his work, this one is more for personal use. There’s a bathroom here, but you have an en-suite bathroom in your bedroom anyway. There’s an extra room downstairs that I’ve fashioned into a bit of an office for you if you’d like to use it. That’s the guest bedroom there, the hallway bathroom is mainly for that one. Sometimes Mr. Min’s friends will stay over if they’ve drunk. Ah! Here’s your bedroom.”

You entered, enjoying Mrs. Lim’s chattering as she gave you a mini tour. Your bedroom was large with a queen-sized bed and soft-looking sheets with a fluffy comforter. There was a desk in the corner and a vanity in the other. You noted a door on the side that must lead to the bathroom, and your bags sitting on the floor by the desk.

“Through that door is your closet and bathroom. I’ve set up your closet for the most part and tried to make it homey, but please feel free to decorate it to your liking! I’m so excited to have another woman here long term, Mr. Min doesn’t always make for great company. Oh, but don’t tell him I said that!”

You giggled, enjoying the motherly presence Mrs. Lim provided, and began unpacking some of your bags from the day, “Thank you, Mrs. Lim. I appreciate you doing all this for me. And please, call me Y/N.”

“Of course. Do you need assistance getting out of your hanbok?”

“No, I think I’ll be alright, thank you.”

“Right, then I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be off shift now so I’ll be heading home, but please feel free to call me if you have any questions.”

“Of course, thank you, Mrs. Lim. Have a good night.”

She bowed before exiting and you breathed out, sitting on the plush bed, making the comforter balloon around you. The room was nice, definitely, but it felt a bit stale and unwelcoming. At least you could customize this area without having to worry about Yoongi. You opened the door to the closet, marveling at the size and open entrance into the bathroom with a large tub and shower. Your clothes were nicely organized and you had no trouble finding some pajamas to change into with an old shirt you’d stolen from Hoseok and shorts.

Quickly undressing, you neatly hung up your hanbok and slipped into the shower, grabbing the necessary toiletries from your bag. You relished in being able to wash the hair spray out of your hair and loosen it from your scalp, glaring at the pile of hairpins that sat on the granite counter you’d spent upwards of five minutes removing. The warm water soothed your aching legs and the soapy bodywash felt rejuvenating.

You swiftly finished showering, not wanting to keep Yoongi waiting, and wrapped yourself in a towel before loosely drying your hair. You preferred to let it air dry, so you only lightly patted it with a towel. Drying off the rest of your body, you donned new undergarments, pausing on whether or not to put on a bra. You usually didn’t wear bras to bed, but you didn’t want to go down to meet Yoongi braless.

You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation and pulled on a comfortable sports bra, before slipping on your shorts and t-shirt, finally feeling comfortable. Quickly checking your reflection in the massive mirror, you headed down the stairs to meet Yoongi.

He was sitting on the leather couch in a loose white t-shirt and black sweatpants, almost taking your breath away at how beautifully casual he looked. You’d only seen him in suits so far and seeing him in loungewear with wet hair and a towel around his neck left you flustered. He noticed your presence, eyes running over your form making you feel embarrassed.

He gestured for you to join him on the couch, setting aside his phone to lean forward on his knees. You sat on the loveseat across from him, not quite sure what the etiquette was at this point.

“Okay, so I’ve already told you the general rules I have. Basically, don’t enter my space without knocking and please, do not go into my upstairs office. I’ll do the same for you. You’re free to set up your rooms however you like.”

You nodded, all of this seemed pretty fair so far.

“You can use the kitchen however you like, just let Mrs. Lim know what groceries you want. If I have guests over, I’d prefer if you stayed in your room, but I won’t force you. This space is as much yours as it is mine, now.”

You continued nodding along, making some notes of getting a TV for your room so you could properly entertain yourself when his friends were over. You wouldn’t exactly want him coming into the room when you’re with Hoseok and Joohee either.

“You can invite your friends over whenever you want, just let me know in advance. I’ll be sure to do the same for you. Also, if I have any of my own partners over,” he continued, the last words causing you to flinch, “I’ll make sure to let you know. Please just give us some privacy and try not to be out in the common space when they’re here. Of course, I’ll extend the same courtesy.”

The harsh reminder of the openness of the marriage left you squirming in the chair. You didn’t want to remember that Yoongi would be fucking other people in the home you shared.

“We can add things as we get used to living together. Anything you want to add?”

You shook your head quickly, just wanting to go to bed as soon as possible. Yoongi nodded, rising, before sparing you one last glance.

“Alright, goodnight then.”

“Goodnight,” you squeaked, watching him ascend the stairs. After his form disappeared into the hallway, you leaned back on the loveseat, exhaling harshly. What a conversation. You’d have to take some time to get used to this. You returned to your room feeling heavily conflicted. As you set up your phone and watch chargers, you thought over the conversation.

Objectively, Yoongi was being relatively fair, letting you exist in the space in the same capacity as him. Yet, you still felt unhappy. You knew why. You wanted him to be only yours, to have the same exclusive outlook you did on the relationship. You were upset with yourself more than him.

He had made this clear from the beginning, that he had no intention of stopping any partners outside of the relationship. He clearly didn’t want to have a relationship with you, sex or not, so what he was doing now was completely fair.

You couldn’t turn the emotional part of your brain that craved to have a real romantic relationship with him. It was almost annoying and you were frustrated at yourself for continuing to feel this way.

Climbing into bed, you continued wallowing, deciding that you’d pity yourself tonight, but the next day, you’d have to pull yourself together. You’d taken a couple of weeks off at the insistence of your boss, even though he knew you weren’t going on a honeymoon, and you wanted to enjoy sleeping in.

It was time to adopt Yoongi’s approach and try to remove yourself emotionally from the situation. How hard could it be?

Yoongi couldn’t focus on his book, ultimately setting it aside on his bedside table. He furiously rubbed at his eyes, feeling frustrated.

His eyes hadn’t been listening to him lately. They seemed to constantly wander after your figure, finding your face and curves at every corner. The past couple of days, they had barely strayed from you, watching as you cuddled up to that man, Hoseok.

Who was he? Were you two together? Was Hoseok in love with you? More importantly, why did it bother Yoongi so much?

He groaned, feeling annoyed that your relationship with Hoseok was getting to him so much. He had been the one to set the boundary of it being an open relationship, so why did it bother him so much that you seemed to be employing that? Yoongi knew that he had no right to feel this way and was only further annoyed that he continued to do so.

And what was with your budding friendship with Jeongguk? When did you two become so close? Yoongi buried his head in his hands, shouldn’t he be happy that his friends and wife are getting along?

Wife. It felt odd to say, or think, that. You were his wife now. Except he’d made it clear that the title didn’t change anything between you, nor would it change his actions. Despite his earlier resolve to not let this marriage affect him, you seemed to be having a great effect on him.

He’d followed your form and mannerisms throughout the past couple of days. He’d noticed your trembling hands and avoiding eye contact. When the two of you had been about to kiss, he could feel your body shaking beneath his hands, prompting him to cover your mouth for the kiss.

He hated how tempted he’d been to fully kiss you.

Throughout the rest of the ceremony and reception, you’d been largely withdrawn, until you’d met with Hoseok. Yoongi was frustrated that you didn’t seem to be able to stand up for yourself, that you played so well into the role of a trophy wife, but he’d been even more upset at your close contact with Hoseok.

The man had laid his hands on you so easily and seeing the way Hoseok’s fingers curled around your waist and your smile when you talked to him made Yoongi’s blood boil. Why hadn’t you smiled at him like that?

Yoongi bit his lip, he knew that wasn’t your fault. He hadn’t been welcoming at all to you, he’d barely given you a chance to talk to him. Yoongi was just steadfast in his mission to continue on with life as normal, he didn’t want this marriage to change anything. He knew it wasn’t fair of him to be upset with you going along with his requests.

You were dangerous.

You were dangerous in the way that you nodded along to everything Yoongi asked, in the way you refused to let your mask slip and show any emotion, in the way you smiled so brightly with Hoseok and Jeongguk, in the way your cheeks tinged pink when Taehyung kissed your hand and Namjoon smiled at you, and in the way you looked so comfortable and natural in your pajamas.

Yoongi had to suck in a breath when he saw you entering the living room with your freshly washed and damp hair, falling in wet curls strands around your shoulders, making a wet spot on the oversized dance team t-shirt.

That was another thing. Where had you gotten that shirt? It was far too big for you, Yoongi knew that well. It was obvious in the way it fell past the hem of your shorts, tantalizing his eyes to rake down your legs, and it was for a college dance team. Were you on one in college?

Or, Yoongi’s mind raced, was it Hoseok’s? Hadn’t the man said he worked in a dance studio? The thought made Yoongi fume, just how close had you two gotten?

But he paused, what right did he have to feel upset? Yoongi had been in bed with another woman just days ago, it wasn’t fair of him to judge you for doing the same. He’d said that you were allowed to sleep with or date whoever you wanted, so why was he so angry at the idea of you and Hoseok?

Another sigh escaped him, he didn’t have it in him to deal with this tonight. Just the idea of you a few rooms down in that too-big shirt and too-short shorts was enough to drive him crazy.

He reached over, turning off the lamp next to his bed. He’d unpack his feelings in the morning. Yoongi turned over, settling into bed, ignoring how empty and cold his hand felt without your warmth.

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