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kithtaehyung · 10 months

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broken, pt. 1 (3tan) | myg

title: broken (pt. 1) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: chilling conversations prolong things even further… until everything goes to hell. note: this is only one half of what was supposed to be a whole chapter! broken, pt. 2 will come out after i've had time to make it something i'm proud of. trying to rush everything out didn't do any favors, so hilariously and ironically, broken is broken up into two hahaha. warnings: language, angst, tension, yoongi’s pov is longgg, alcohol consumption, tobacco mentions, bro🥲, yoongi in the studio😩, the studio boys make another appearance👀, …someone else makes their first appearance👀👀, scuffles, tense situations, did i say angst?, water bottles get their own warning, long hair yoongi, basketball yoongi🫠, crying, bro a ha ha, jimin has tats and he’s not afraid to show them, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, honestly he is on another level of warning here don’t perceive me💀, the fluff is fluffing here like what, backstory we’ve been waiting for😗, yoongi on the phone, hand holding :’)), kissing :’)), oh god the kissing❤️‍🩹, there’s just a lot in both parts i'm sorry y'all playlist: broken (lp) drop date: dec 3rd, 2023, 4:00pm est word count: ...19.1k 🚶‍♀️

Words abandon you.

They stand far from your form, pitying observers of your decaying state in front of the man you’ve been lying to. At once, you feel completely alone, not even Yoongi’s lingering presence helping when those eyes are piercing through time and space. Everything you’ve experienced over the past two years slings across your vision, from the first time you left your house in the pouring rain to get to Yoongi’s, to the car ride back you just took with his kiss still on your lips.

All of those moments shattering into dust around your heels.

Your feet make lines in them when you move to close the front door, something leaving your mouth before you can judge if it makes sense, “About what?”

Zero sense. Absolute zero sense. Which your brother has absolute zero patience for. The drone in his question hits you like a punch to the gut, “Really.”

“Just out late, is all,” you grumble, trying your best to not acknowledge an atmosphere so tense it’s almost crowded. “Jimin had another party, remember?”

“Course I do.”

Huh? Wait. Why does he sound so—

“I was there.”

Dread launches up your veins, rocketing right to your heart in the middle of a pulse. He was there? You saw his car when Yoongi pulled up close to the house. He was there? When the fuck did he arrive? Oh, fuck, if he got there early enough… did he see you… and Yoongi…

No. There’s no way. Because one, Yoongi parked far down and around the corner. He made sure not to be close just in case you two could be spotted.

With a thought you really cannot afford right now, you also assume he stayed that distance just so that he could pin you against his car. Fucking hell, focus! Upping the strength of your resolve to match cardboard, you lamely stall in your hunt for clarification, “You were?”

“I was.”

The watch on his wrist glints in its twist. When aggravated veins stare back at you, it’s obvious your brother is on the edge. Because he is deathly calm. “So where’d you go?”

You blink, not having expelled a single breath since you stepped foot inside.

Does he not know? Or does he know and he’s just waiting for you to finally spill? With all the hope in the universe, you yearn for it to be the first one. Because you cannot deal with a fallout right now. Not right after what happened with Yoongi.

It’s just not the right time.

“Yuri’s,” you blurt, finally kicking into gear and strategizing how you’re gonna finesse this. “She came and got me.”

Your sibling just stands there, eyes a solid beam before he sighs at clasped wrists.

Here it comes. He’s gonna ask why you didn’t say anything. Like he always does because for some reason you’re still not a true adult to him and he has to keep tabs on you at all times and you can’t just sneak around with his best friend in peace—

“K.” Your eyes shake once. “Just tell me next time.”

And just like that, your brother vacates the foyer, dark dress shoes clacking as he retreats back into his room. Leaving you standing in silence.

All the words around you just as speechless.

Just like that, you’re gone again.

After watching you leave and wishing you didn’t have to, Yoongi shuts his door to rest ponderous thoughts on worn wood. Eyes closed and a storm on his mind’s horizon.

Just a little longer. He hopes you’ll understand. This is just something he needs. More than anything else.

Exhausted, he peels himself from the door, meandering through the bog of his living room. Trudge, trudge, trudge to the dining table, skirting fingers along the edge and noting that it feels different than before.

At least something in his apartment has changed for the better.

Who would’ve thought that table would witness both an end and a beginning. That it would see the worst and best of him. If it was ever called to stand, there’s no doubt that it could recite all his failures and shortcomings. But he hopes that it would also attest to how much he’s fucking tried.

As much as Yoongi wants to throw it out, he hasn’t. Because despite being withered to hell, all it needed to recover was the new company of a familiar face.

And a little bit of summer rain.

It watches as his thoughts move on, and soaks in the blues and pinks of sunrise as he crosses into the bedroom. At the feel of your lingering presence, Yoongi gnaws on his lip.

What the fuck does he do now? The moment you leave, he wants nothing more than to have you back in his bed. It’s the one fact that he has come to fully acknowledge. Because there are many times you’ve caught him slipping. But when you’re lost to your dreams? Visibly at peace and safe under his sheets? That’s when he can’t even think straight.

How your serenity throws him into disarray, Yoongi has no fucking clue.

But he can’t afford these feelings right now. Because how can he want you close while being the reason for this distance? Make it make sense. Don’t be a fucking hypocrite. Tsking, Yoongi once again accepts the consequences, heading to his bathroom before going back the fuck to sleep.

Lies. Who is he kidding? There’s no way his rest will be the same without you. Especially since he doesn’t know when he’ll get to see you next.

There is a way to remedy that. To put an end to your time apart. But Yoongi’s been so in his fucking head that it’s chaining him down and pulling taut. No matter how much he struggles, he can’t break free, and it’s driving him to the brink.

But last night? With you? Half moons mar his palms as he stands. Staring. Branding that whole memory into his heart.

After three months of questioning his existence.

All it took was your soft hums to give him a reason.

And you won’t ever know how much that meant to him. Not until Yoongi finally decides to tell you. Which will most likely be never. Maybe that’s why this time tears at his chest more than all the others. Maybe that’s why he stood in his doorway longer than usual. Maybe that’s why he can’t quite carry the weight in his chest.

Dumping himself on dark mountains—creations of his and your design—Yoongi buries his face in those valleys. Inhales those aromas like some hit he can live off of for however many days left he needs.

Desperately grasping for a fading world where only you two exist. Drifting. Dreaming. Disarmed by a vibration on his nightstand.

The fuck.

Who is texting him this early. There are only a few people he has notifications on for wait it’s probably you saying you’re home.

Peeling himself off the sheets with a groan, Yoongi simply shifts his upper body to reach for his phone, squinty-eyed as he checks his screen.

And he doesn’t see your name.

Dumbass: 1 New Message

But your brother’s.

What the hell does he—

Dumbass [07:30]: We need to talk.

…Shit.

Yoongi grips his phone in panic, ice water streaming through his veins and mind set ablaze with potential scenarios.

He’s awake. You went home. And he’s awake. Fuck, did anything happen? Did you say anything? What are the chances this text means he found everything out?

Shit.

Does Yoongi answer now? Or does he sleep and pretend that this is just a text and isn’t a problem at all? Think. Your brother may not even be referencing you, or him. Right? It could be something completely different.

Why can’t he fucking move?

Every regret Yoongi’s kept at bay floods his brain, crashing into assumptions of your mental state and creating a massive whirlpool of dread. Just answer. Don’t answer. Just answer. Don’t fucking answer. Suddenly, another alert lights his home screen and it’s a call oh fuck—wait… It’s Jungkook?

Why not. Sure. What’s one more issue.

Picking up, Yoongi runs hard fingers through his hair as he answers.

“Hey, you coming?”

“Huh?”

“We have that session in thirty.”

The what. The session? Oh, fuck. The session. Yoongi completely forgot they had a recording booked today because they were so hyped last night to get a date for the release party shit. Vacating his bed, Yoongi answers with a low, “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Yeah, don’t be late. It’s those guys from before.”

Fuck, it’s that one. The dudes that stopped by the studio just as things were wrapping up, shocking everyone when they scheduled some time. Highly successful musicians and performers booking something with a no name studio? Things are rolling in the right direction and coming along fast.

But as things go. If they don’t take this shit seriously, everything can crash just as quickly.

“Heading out,” Yoongi finally says as he yanks a hoodie from his closet, and a loud vibration against his ear makes him flinch.

Dumbass [7:40]: Heading over

Fuck!

“You okay?”

“Shit, yeah.” Yoongi grips soft material before his phone hits his desk with a thump. Hastily dressing, he grunts, “Maybe. Might be like two minutes late.”

“Nah, come now.”

He’s heading over? Your brother? If that’s the case, there’s no way he doesn’t know.

Fuck, relax. Don’t overthink. If anything, there wouldn’t have even been a heads-up. Yoongi figures he’d just find out as soon as he’s thrown against a wall. Or the ground. Or right onto his coffee table that this very guy helped pick out. Shit, he needs to know but he doesn’t wanna find out.

But nevermind him. Are you okay? Swiping his device, Yoongi quickly types a text before fast-walking out of his room, going on autopilot when he assures into his receiver, “I’ll get there.”

Yoongi [7:42]: Going to the studio

“On time? You better!”

Goddamn, he’s juggling too much right now.

As Yoongi breaks into the dining room, he hears a rustling on the line before other voices jut through the speaker. Sounds like Hobi and Joon are already there, and the next thing said further spikes his stress level another peak,

“We’re already cutting it close with the prep.”

Fucking hell, the prep. The mics, the tracks, the setup. They forgot to do all of it. Something inside of him starts snarling and almost pounces through the phone, “Fuck, we should’ve been ready already.”

“Shit, I know.”

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“Dude, relax, I get it.”

“Do you? Cus this is… Fuck.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get it done but it’s gonna be tight. Hey, where’s the… Damn it, what’s it called?”

Frustrated and rummaging through his pantry, Yoongi knows he sure as hell didn’t think about anything else as soon as he heard you crying on the line. If he had remembered while leaving the studio, he could’ve spared a brain cell to rush everyone back in. “The what.”

“The… The overhead mic for the drums.”

Of course, he’d repeat every decision he made last night. Over, and over, and over again. But any of them should’ve remembered this step before leaving, which pisses him off. The studio’s lack of experience is showing and it’s making him nervous.

And Yoongi still doesn’t know what’s going on with his best friend.

“We need two overheads for drums,” he corrects while swiping a water bottle from the counter. And he’s about to rattle off where they are when he feels another long buzz.

Dumbass: Incoming Call

Of fucking course.

Mind whirring so hard he can feel steam, Yoongi quickly recalls where the mics are, “They’re somewhere in the back by the amps, but I gotta take this so I’ll see y’all there.”

“Wait, where are the—”

Nope. Kook’s just gonna have to figure out whatever he’s asking on his own. Switching calls, Yoongi answers while opening his door, hastily putting out the food and water he grabbed from the kitchen.

“Hey.” Fuck, is his voice shaking? What the hell is he gonna be faced with in the next few seconds? Can he freeze time and rewind and keep last night on repeat? “I’m about to head out.”

“Don’t leave yet, I’m coming.”

“No, just”—Yoongi dashes back inside before grabbing his wallet and keys from the bar—“You good? I can’t be late.”

“Don’t lie. Y’all are done, right?”

Don’t lie. Yoongi feels like hurling.

“We got another project,” he huffs as he meets sunrise again, blazing a trail through his corridor and rounding the corner to his car. “A band’s coming in for a session.”

“Shit.”

There’s a pause on the line. And it’s the first bit of silence Yoongi’s had since he got the first bone-chilling text. Is his secret safe? Are you okay? Should he work extra late and run from a problem yet again? He’s very good at that. Running. If there was a medal for distance ran from issues, he’d be on the podium for both gold and silver.

“Okay, fine.”

Relief is temporary. This could just be him biding his time in order to figure out what to do. Or maybe he truly doesn’t know what’s going on and Yoongi has a bit more uninterrupted time with you.

Delusion is a great place to stay.

In any case, his friend’s behavior is alarming. What’s he doing up this early? And why is he wanting to swing by so bad if not to slice him into tiny pieces? Nerves slow on the downslope, Yoongi shuts his car door and lends his ear, “But serious, are you okay?”

“I just… Tch. I can’t even say it.”

He lets his friend go through a series of small sounds on the line, pulling out of the lot and hitting the road with tire squeaks. “What’s up,” he finally pushes, looking sideways and remembering the car ride home.

There was no way Yoongi was gonna say no to you. He didn’t in this universe, and he’d bet his whole life he doesn’t in any other one, either. Not when your wings looked like you hadn’t used them in months.

Pained, Yoongi hopes you’re completely fine and sleeping. Tucked away in a bed that captured part of his heart, visiting him in your dreams so that some version of him can be at your side.

“Everything, Yoong.”

But, as it so starkly turns out, he has to deal with reality. And with the fact that you’re just as far away as you were before last night. Maybe even further out of reach.

So, so far away.

“There’s a ton of shit, but. Fuck. Guess we’ll have to wait.”

Right now, deal with the studio prep and get through the session that will probably take awhile. After that, meet up with your brother and hope to god he doesn’t know. “K.”

“Just lemme know when you get back.”

Then, when all of that is done, Yoongi will be alone. Staring into the night and trying his hardest not to give up on himself again. “Yeah, I will.”

“No running.”

“K.”

When the call ends, Yoongi lets out the harshest breath he’s ever let out in his life. Hoping you went right to sleep without dealing with any of that.

“How did that sound?”

Looking into the recording room, Yoongi raises a thumbs up as Hoseok clicks back to the beginning of the track. At their side, Namjoon hits a button on the console before speaking into a microphone, “Y’all wanna come hear it?”

“We can move on. Wanna get the doubling done.”

Huh? They’re gonna move onto vocal doubling already? With a few blinks, Yoongi think it’d be better if they—

“Okay!” Jungkook agrees from the couch, cutting out any other thoughts. “If any of you need adjustments, let us know.”

“Yeah, actually, can one of you come switch this out?”

Joon throws a suggestion over his shoulder, but Yoongi is already heading for the booth before his name is even mentioned.

Get everything done smooth. Stay disciplined. Be professional, goddamn it.

Entering the soundproofed room will always make him want to occupy the mic instead. That feeling hasn’t gone away, and there have been countless nights where he’s spent time just sitting in this very space, visualizing what it would be like to work on this side of the glass someday. Deep down, Yoongi knows he could be somebody. But imposter syndrome runs deep.

Avoiding cables strewn about the room, he offers his hands without a word, taking a guitar from the lead singer and making his leave—

“Hey.” He turns. “You’re good.”

What? Where the hell did that come from? Did he even hear this guy right or was he just daydreaming again? Yoongi’s so thrown he can only stare with question marks for eyes.

Amused, the singer simply points to the side of his beaming countenance. “You have an ear.”

Huh. How the hell can this dude tell? All Yoongi’s done is indicate if a recording take was good or not, and given a few minuscule suggestions to the keyboardist and guitarist—instruments he’s well-versed in.

Yet again, he’s so in his head that the man outright laughs, “Relax! You can talk to us like normal, you know. None of us care about etiquette shit.”

“Shit, my bad,” Yoongi finally responds, instrument in his hands proving a little lighter. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Swishing long bangs to the side, the performer rests a hand on his hip. “We’re open to anything. We’d just tell you if your opinion sucks.”

Eyes creasing with his lips, Yoongi puffs out a laugh.

“Kidding. Only a little.”

Even though these people are world-renowned, they’re the first humble group to run through the studio. Everyone else has been either cocky, standoffish, or super opinionated, which made for unproductive hours.

Yoongi likes this change of pace. His shoulders start to feel composed, less scrunched than they had been since you left his place this morning. Comforted, he looks down at the guitar in his fingers.

Choosing not to say what he wants to.

Should he? Nah. These guys know what they’re doing. Despite the nice offer to speak up, it’s not his place. Far from it.

…But what would you tell him to do? What would you be proud of?

Committed to his answer, Yoongi grips the neck and decides without another thought,

“Do the chorus again.”

The whole studio stills. But all he’s looking at is the man in front of him, shaking his head when they ask, “Same way?”

“Uhm. No.” As he hands the guitar back, Yoongi wordlessly checks if he can see the sheet music. When given the go-ahead, he scans the lines before pointing out a passage to note,

“Mm. Here. Vocals are fine as is, but. Ride the build-up quicker and hit the next chord after a bit longer.” When he stops, he has to fight to ignore the eyes on him. There’s no doubt that his extended time in the recording room is being questioned, and his hand movements probably make him look stupid. “It’ll keep in time but hit harder.”

Done. He said it.

And the response that follows puts complete silence to shame.

Instantly self-conscious, Yoongi swears he can hear Hobi’s pants shift in the control room through two closed doors shit he took it too far. Fuck, if these guys walk out now the studio is done for and he’ll be the only reason why—

“Well, goddamn. Let’s try that then.”

Huh. They’re gonna take that?

As he steps away, Yoongi feels slightly awkward doused in attention. Yeah, expressions seem like looks of approval, but they could just be polite.

The man hums the chorus with Yoongi’s notes in mind, and his eyebrows tick a bit before he addresses the others in the room, “You heard him?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Yeah, we can try that.”

“Why didn’t you think of that, Woosung?”

Yoongi can’t keep his amusement under wraps as the singer laughs, addressing his keyboardist with a grin, “Damn, not even Sammy? Straight to Woosung, huh.”

“Sammy would’ve thought of it.”

Another bout of mirth spreads joy around the recording booth, and Yoongi shares a look with the singer before they both nod.

“Let’s see how it sounds.”

“K.”

Proud and adrenaline-filled, he turns to walk back to the door, head so buzzed he doesn’t know what to do. But when Yoongi can’t see into the control room anymore, he misses a stare through the glass.

A stare that lingers on him just a little too long.

The rest of the session goes smooth, and Yoongi’s relieved that they haven’t asked him for anything else.

After all. He doesn’t wanna push it, or step on Jungkook’s toes. What happened in the recording room only went down because you would have scolded him for not seizing that moment. And the suggestion he gave was lauded after the next take.

It was the first time since you kissed him goodbye that he felt a healthy pulse in his chest. Despite the chaos of the morning, amid the thoughts and worries penetrating his brain, you reached out and kept him steady in just the right moment.

Fuck being his good luck charm. You give guardian angels shame and you don’t even know it.

“Okay, we’ll take ten after this.”

Jungkook holds up an arm while agreeing, “Okay! We’ll save what we got!”

Yoongi’s scanning the tracks when he feels hovering over his shoulder, and he already knows it’s the kid without looking. “Sup.”

“Nothing.”

“You sure.”

At this, Jungkook pauses before he sighs. “Yeah, it’s nothing,” he clearly lies.

But Yoongi will let him figure out whether to run with that or not. He seems a little bothered about something, and it very well could be what happened in the booth. This is work, and they’re both adults. If he wants to talk about something, Yoongi will gladly have that conversation.

Suddenly, a vibration erupts in his hoodie pocket, and his phone is fished out without him even thinking.

Hustler: Incoming C—

Shit. You wouldn’t call him at work unless it’s urgent. Which is quickly throwing any possible theories about your brother not knowing out the window.

But fuck, he can’t answer yet. There’s no way. Not only is he in very close range to someone you don’t wanna speak to right now, but he’d get blasted for being on his phone during a session. Hoping you can wait just two more minutes, Yoongi turns the buzzing off within his hoodie pocket, anxiously waiting for the take to start.

Hoping to everything that Jungkook didn’t happen to see what was on his screen.

As soon as everyone looks pleased—three takes and thirty minutes later—Yoongi quickly excuses himself from the control room. His head practically overheats on the way out back, but the gust of morning breeze serves to soothe it some.

It’s been chilly lately. A bit grey. But whatever the weather has been outside, it’s no match for the atmosphere of his brain.

Pulling his hood over hair he hasn’t cut in months, Yoongi looks around before ringing you up. Hoping that you’re good and didn’t have to go through a version of his panic earlier.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

Straight to voicemail? Shit.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

Fuck, still voicemail. Are you okay? On the phone with someone else? Did your brother actually end up finding out and things are worse than he thought? Clutching his phone, Yoongi glances up while giving it slight shakes, body on alert while deciding what the hell to do now.

Maybe he can at least text you to ask what the hell happened this morning? Typing. Erasing. Retyping. Retrying.

Yoongi [9:02]: Got a session today, doll.

That’s what he had to say? That won’t do you any good, the fuck? Berating himself with a sigh, he takes a few steps while texting a follow-up.

Yoongi [9:03]: Still going, but are you good?

Staring, it takes him a few seconds to decide if this is enough. If these two messages are gonna suffice to help him figure out what the hell he’s getting into later.

It’s not. There’s too much he needs to know.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

When it doesn’t ring a third time, Yoongi gives up, cursing before turning and raking his hood off in distress.

Only to see Woosung materializing out of nowhere—relaxed, silent, and taking a drag.

Shit. How much of that did he witness?

“Been there,” the man empathizes, blowing out smoke into crisp morning. After a swell of early traffic fills the alleyway, he continues, “In trouble?”

Great. With a sound of dejection, Yoongi answers to a stack of random boxes, “Might be.”

“Don’t wanna commit anymore?”

“I do,” Yoongi blurts without hesitation, looking right into eyes that have seen plenty more than he has.

And it’s the first time he’s admitted anything out loud. To a stranger miles above him in status, no less. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he clarifies, “It’s just… There’s something I need to do first.”

Wait a sec. Why the fuck is he talking about this so freely? This isn’t something he does. Privacy is practically his brand. So why is it easy to talk to this guy? It’s him, for fuck’s sake. But what’s done is done. Woosung probably won’t even remember this conversation even happened, or is already annoyed as hell he didn’t get a good read on him.

To Yoongi’s surprise, his alley companion speaks again after another white wisp. “Mmm… Something you need to do?”

Well. Yoongi walked right into this one. Swallowing and knowing he can’t dip out, he sighs, “Some shit I wanna finish.” The smell of tobacco wafts around him when he looks at dulled skies. “Shit I need to get through.”

An amused hum floats through empty space. “Been there, too.”

Yoongi slowly turns to regard his client, watching as Woosung becomes very interested in wet concrete.

What kind of shit has this guy seen? Surely, he could have had some of the same experiences. The slight droop in his confident shoulders tells enough. But would he understand the exact same situation?

No. At least, Yoongi hopes not. Quite fucking frankly, he hopes no one has had to go through the same shit that he has.

“Let me know if you ever need help,” Woosung offers, shocking Yoongi to the point of speechlessness. As he drops his cigarette to squash it out, he runs a hand through wild dark locks. “We’ll be around again.”

Wait. What? Yoongi can only blink. “Serious?”

“Yeah.” The man looks down the outside corridor, watching as people start heading to their jobs through a central courtyard. “Got a good feeling about this place.”

What does he mean by that. What can Woosung possibly mean by that what does he mean they’ll be back? To the studio? To the city? What’s happening. Yoongi simply lets a pause prevail before offering the only response he’s capable of,

“It’s the food next door, huh.”

That laugh has got to be top five in the world. Not as great as yours, but definitely up there in terms of what makes Yoongi feel like things are alright. Not that he’d ever admit that shit to anyone. Ever.

Mercifully, the conversation moves away from risky topics. Instead, there are talks about a tour one is planning for his band’s album, mixed in with mentions of equipment the other is saving up for. Then the rest isn’t about music at all.

Finally, it’s time for them to continue recording, so they know to head back inside. “Don’t wait,” Woosung advises as he turns on his heel.

And Yoongi can only stare somewhere else.

“If there’s something you need to get through...”

Stare, and stare, and stare some more.

“Hit it until it breaks.”

Because he’s already aware. More than anyone.

As Woosung shuts the back door, Yoongi’s gaze finds the crushed cigarette at his side. Another reminder of how things were.

And a reminder that he’s still a fucking coward.

Hours later, Yoongi’s car awaits him in the lot.

And when he realizes that you still haven’t responded, he shuts his door just a little too hard.

Whenever his friend comes over for drinks, it’s always the same routine.

Both of them don’t talk much, instead opting for a quiet greeting before someone dumps themselves on the couch while the other grabs a bottle and cups in the kitchen. As soon as glasses are filled, conversation sparks as a game plays out on tv—or a sportscasting show if nothing interesting is airing.

But this time? None of it happens that way. Because when Yoongi opens his door, he’s pinned with a shadowed visage he's only seen piercing through others.

And the whole arctic starts to seep into his bloodstream.

Raising a brow and giving space is his chosen course of action. Best to not disturb a beast if they’re already ready to lunge.

And his friend eyes him as he stalks into the house, scanning around in search of something—living room, dining table, even looking into the open doorway of the bedroom.

Fuck. Relax. Don’t assume anything until things are on the table. Yoongi has got to pretend like tonight is normal and fine and that he’s obviously and positively not seeing and sleeping with his friend’s little sister.

And that he most definitely didn’t eat you out where your brother is sitting now motherfucker he needs a drink. Or a smoke. Or both with a plane ticket out of the whole country.

At least the television is already on. If it wasn’t for that ambiance, Yoongi’s head would be jam packed with every goddamn sound known to man. Including the adorable way you talk in your sleep, and how you strain so beautifully when you come fuck, fuck, fuck! Focus.

What’s happened has happened. And what’s going to happen will happen. Whether it’s a consequence of his actions, or nothing to do with any of this at all.

But when faced with everything smushing together at once? Yoongi will probably need to be revived no matter what the outcome. This is the most stressed out he’s been in years.

Not only that, but his stress is more than obvious. Even now in the kitchen, he’s scanning through his bottles with a finger—an action he’s never done while sober since the choices are always predictable. Holy shit, he needs to pull it together.

Has he ever been this panicked? Does he appear just as chaotic and disjointed as he feels? This is too new. This is very new and if he doesn’t regain control there’s no telling where this foreign road leads.

But the silence still remains as he turns. And apparently the road hits a dead end at his dining table. Since it’s occupied rather than the living room sofa.

Sighing, Yoongi ambles to his friend, placing everything down with clinks and ignoring the way his furniture is getting burned through. Both whisky’s are ready. Yoongi’s already holding his. And your brother still hasn’t moved a muscle. Honestly, what the fuck is going on with—

“I went to Jimin’s last night.”

…What.

Don’t react. He’s staring. Don’t fucking react. Take a drink. A sip. Pick up the goddamn glass. Doing so, Yoongi slowly brings the liquid to his lips, not quite following his own instructions as he asks behind a barrier, “How was it.”

His question is met with a laugh that isn’t funny at all. The kind that drags a finger along the chalkboard of your soul. And the next question directed his way pulverizes Yoongi’s denial,

“Care to share what’s been going on?”

He’s sick. Beyond sick. The room is closing in and closing in too fucking fast. Shit shit shit. There’s no way he saw. No fucking way. He parked down the street he deliberately stopped as far away as possible and you saw your brother’s car in your driveway. Did he get there after you left? And didn’t see you while also not hearing from hi—

“Why her, Yoong? Hmm?”

Fuck!

Yoongi can’t feel the air in his lungs. Because there isn’t any. Just a barren wasteland of shriveled futures and cracks in the foundation of every relationship he’s had in his whole life. The millisecond before a crash and only his wheels spinning and spinning and spinning—

Your brother shoots out of the chair, making the glass in Yoongi’s palm feel infinitely more solid.

“I mean, fuck! After all the shit we’ve been through? You’re gonna go back to her?”

All the—shit, he can’t even—back to? Back to you? What does he mean by back to you? Does he know about the first ti—

Volcanic, the man interrogating paces beside the dining table. Back and forth, back and forth. A pause. Back and forth.

And Yoongi still feels frozen in time. Is this it? Is this when things come crashing down? Glass suspends in midair all around him; an orchestra trembles beneath his feet, waiting for the moment to rip into his rib cage with swift strokes and a flourish as he’s taken down.

“Can’t fucking believe you.”

When Yoongi finally chooses to speak, what comes out only feels like a horrible attempt more than anything else, “Listen, it’s my fau—”

“What, you just decided to fuck that bitch again? Couldn’t stay away?”

Oh, fuck that.

Wood scrapes into flooring as Yoongi vacates his chair, hard feet planted as he gets into the face of his best friend, his confidant, his day one. Only to speak so low only them two can hear, “How bout you use your fucking words already and I’ll tell you.”

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” They are only a breath apart. But no one’s going anywhere now. “Need me to spell it out for that fuckass brain of yours—”

“Say it—”

“Stop fucking your ex, dude!”

Yoongi’s back connects with the chair behind him, palms flinging back to brace himself through a jolt of pain. And his eyes go so wide they stretch at the edges.

…Motherfucker, what?

Your brother is not done in the slightest, but Yoongi can only stare as he’s being berated for something that is one-hundred percent news to him, too.

“Everyone was happy when you finally left. All of us. Only for you to go and, what, get back with her?”

Nothing makes sense. This isn’t about you? Yoongi’s heart can’t even reset to start beating again. Everything is coming as shock after shock and there’s no way he can keep up at this pace.

His ex? Her? Where the fuck did that come from and why the hell does he of all people think that’s actually true?

“If you’re gonna be with her, you can count me out.”

No. Never again. That would never, ever happen again. “The fuck are you even saying—”

“I’m not fucking joking, Yoong. If you’re seriously back with her then—”

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck you heard, but I’m not.”

“So everything I heard was a lie?”

“Huh?”

“He told me!”

He—who? Who the fuck would say that? And when how what the fuck and why? Yoongi stares, chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. Because he has a choice to make. Either he trudges into this lie and rubs sludge all over his bones, or he denies it like he wants because it’s not fucking true.

What the actual fuck. It’s already bad enough that someone sent this along the rumor mill. And it’s making him sick thinking about all the implications surrounding it. But it’s even worse that his best friend believes it so easily. He’s coming at him so quick without even asking if it’s true.

The only silver lining—the singular bright spot in this hellhole—is that he can use it as an out. An out to protect you from wrath and further fury from your older sibling because if you were the rumor? He’d be laid flat on his floor next to a broken dining set.

“You gonna say anything or what?”

Truthfully, Yoongi feels queasy knowing what he’s gonna do. But it’s for you. You, you, you. And for that, Yoongi will do anything.

Even if it kills him.

“No, I, umm…”

“No?”

Just hurry up and fucking do it.

Resigned, Yoongi lets the memories flood through. Every moment that’s haunted him from a distance charges forward as he surrenders to the pain of his past. “It’s—” Fuck, he can’t even begin to lie, head thundering, thundering, striking his heart in the rain. “I...”

His friend halts. Tense before his shoulders fall back to normal. “You what.”

What the fuck does Yoongi do? What can he say when his brain is only firing up to beg him to run? Technically, he doesn’t have to say anything. He really doesn’t. But he can deflect. It’s what he’s best at, after all. He’s been doing it to you and he will do it again.

In the most defeated voice he can muster, Yoongi comes up with something that will placate his friend while still prolonging this horrid fib, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“You sure?”

It’s true. More true than anything. “It’s over now.”

A century passes. Then another. Then another. Every piece of furniture waits in silence as the television seeps back into his ears.

Then his friend sighs, not looking back as he slumps into the same chair that you always occupy. And Yoongi hopes his sigh of conflicted relief isn’t witnessed.

Following suit, he rubs his lower back before taking his regular seat again, not giving any shits about waiting to drink.

His ex?

As his throat warms, Yoongi starts to harden the more memories keep crashing into each other like jagged waves fuck he really hates how she was brought into this he swears as soon as he figures out who said this he is going to—

“Sorry.” Haze shattered, he lifts his gaze. “I’m so fucking stressed and hearing that last night just…”

“It’s done.” Yoongi reaches for the thick bottle, pouring more into his glencairn. Wanting to talk about literally anything else, he diverts the conversation, “But something else is up with you so say it.”

It works. The man inhales deep, rubbing his face with weary hands. When he rests elbows on wood, he finally talks about other things clouding his mind,

“Work is shit,” he groans downward. “They’re having me travel again.”

“Domestic?”

“Yeah. But for longer. And I don’t…” Tapering off, he sits back, slowly playing with his glass. As if he doesn’t want to mention the next problem.

When he finally does, Yoongi wholeheartedly understands the hesitation, “I dunno know what’s going on with my sister.”

Oh. Fuck, how the hell does he respond? Keeping his cool, Yoongi just repeats the question, taking out his phone and pretending to check his screen. “Your sister?”

“Yeah.” A sigh is sandwiched between explanations. “The past few months, I feel like.. They haven’t really been themselves.”

A sudden crack splits him through.

“Not laughing. Not eating as much. Like even when they sound happy, I can tell it’s a front.. I don’t know.”

The clunk of his phone hits the table very hard.

No. No, no, no. Your texts have been so positive. So encouraging. Other than a few sad calls, you’ve been happy to hear from him just as he had been relieved to hear from you. Even in the car, you must’ve put your feelings lightly.

Your wings. You’ve been enduring all that? For him? Yoongi’s heart rears its head, snagging one of his breaths and slamming both lungs into the floor.

And hatred paints his heart another shade darker.

“They finally went out last night, but. Didn’t come back until this morning.” Running rigid hands through his head, the man looks so pained. So helpless. “Same clothes, dude.”

And Yoongi can only stare, feigning nonchalance but raging and tearing himself apart inside. “Mm.”

“I just… I know I suck at this, but. I don’t know what the hell to do. Or if I even do anything.” Your brother finally takes a swig, wincing at how much ethanol coats his tongue.

Relax, relax, relax. As much as he wants to erupt on himself right now, Yoongi has to stay calm.

Not like he doesn’t know how. That’s usually how he operates, anyway. It’s hard to tell he’s struggling unless you look deep enough. And almost no one thinks to do so because his surface is all they want.

But right now? He doesn’t think he can sequester this anger any longer. At him, his past, and his stupid present decisions.

“Like I tried to say something but I just.. I felt like if I push too hard, they’re gonna shut down even more. Ever since that fight with Kook, it’s like..”

Seeing an opening and keeping a neutral stance, Yoongi asks the most ironic question to date, “Are they seeing someone?”

At this, his friend shakes his head, eyes glued to dark amber liquid. When he answers, all the breaths in the world cut at once,

“I think she feels all alone.”

This hit is the strongest. Straight to the gut, breath stuttering and muscles clenching so hard they lock. It’s almost severe enough to affect how Yoongi feels around his eyes.

“And it sucks not knowing what to do.”

Yoongi’s heart lurches, deflating and slipping out of the crack in his chest. Piercing on the jagged edges before slumping down onto a table that continues to judge him.

You’re hurting. Your brother’s hurting. And it’s all his goddamn fault. Why can’t he just break free and admit shit? Why is he still haunted by the phantoms of his past? Why is he still so fucking weak? It’s clear that he hurt you. For months. You’ve been cheering for him that whole time while you’ve been visibly broken and it’s all because of his dumbass decision to—

“I’m heading out again.”

Yoongi raises his eyes. Because he can’t seem to move anything else. “When.”

Your older sibling takes a slower, more measured sip. Looking towards the channel playing in the living room, he answers, “After our game. Dinner Friday, game on Saturday, fly out Sunday.”

“Mm. We’ll still be here,” Yoongi assures, keeping things as normal and neutral as he can. “Just like last time.”

How ironic. How hypocritical. He hasn’t been there for you in the slightest so how the fuck can he say that with a straight face.

“Thanks. I know it’s a lot for y’all but..”

Not at all. Yoongi is more determined than ever to make everything up to you. It’s the least he can do after putting you through something he decided on the fly.

On the run.

“Don’t worry about that,” he vows into his drink. Honestly, if you’ve been having second thoughts about this whole thing, he doesn’t blame you. Absolutely doesn’t blame you if you realize you’re better than this. But Yoongi’s at least gonna apologize in every single way he can. As soon as he possibly can. “We got it.”

“K.” The man finishes his glass and goes to pour more. “Did I ever mention that she liked you?”

Now what— Coughing on whisky is a bitch and a half. Hitting his chest while both eyes squint from burn, Yoongi croaks out his exact thoughts, “What.”

At this, his friend finally breaks into his regular smile. Setting the bottle down with a hollow clunk, he points, “Don’t you fucking get any ideas. Jimin’s already on my shit list.” He scoffs out a laugh. “But it was obvious when we were younger.”

And Yoongi can only cough some more. He shakes his head through the sting, swallowing and trying to compose himself. He doesn’t know where the hell that came from, but he hopes your brother will understand when all is said and done. Even though he’s been the reason you’ve been so…

Yoongi almost fucking confesses.

“You’re a good person,” he blurts instead. Whether the guilt or last cough pushed it out, that’s still on the table. “You don’t suck at what you think you do.”

“You think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

The hell? Does this dude really not see how successful he is? How much he’s overcome and conquered and sacrificed? Truthfully, Yoongi wouldn’t be where he is today if not for your brother. Him. Jimin. You. Anybody. Which is what makes this ongoing betrayal…

Unprecedented.

“You’re the best out of all of us.”

Your brother finally looks at him, though Yoongi isn’t doing the same. But he can still tell when a fist is held out for him to bump, so he does.

And they both share a drink in respectful silence.

After a moment of them watching the tv, the man finally sighs. “Guess we did shape up pretty nice.” When he’s agreed with, he keeps going with a grin. “We were so fucking bad.”

Yoongi can only chuckle, much better memories fighting off the terrors. “Old me was a little shit.”

“You still are.”

“Says you!”

“I still am, too!”

Laughs precede big swigs of whisky and comfortable quiet. Bit by bit, shoulders start to relax with the surrounding air, and Yoongi lazily releases tension in his neck.

After a few more pours, your brother decides to call it, using the bathroom before announcing that he’s gonna head out. Yoongi gets up from his chair to clasp hands goodbye, not expecting to hear one more plea,

“Break up with her, Yoong.”

Shit. He sighs, and their conversation continues from the dining table to the front door. “It’s not like that.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s over now.”

“For good?” As they stop beside the coat closet, your brother pins him with a look. “I was about to drive over and break down the door.”

Even though Yoongi shares a tsk with him, he can’t help but imagine what could’ve happened if that was the case. And it sends an unwanted jolt of chills.

“Serious. I’m gonna keep saying this, but. she was just making you miserable, dude.” He slips on his shoes, smacking his foot on the ground to push one in place. “I’m sure it was good at first, but I mean… You gotta move on. You deserve better than that.”

Anything would be better than that. Yoongi just disagrees with the whole deserving part. “I guess.”

“You sure it’s over?”

“Yeah,” he assures, because that is something he intends to keep true forever. “It is.”

“Good.” Keys jingling, your sibling then points into the open area with his whole arm, seven words leaving his mouth like ice,

“Then get rid of that fucking guitar.”

Ah. Among all the things. Of course he would bring that up, too. Jaw working, Yoongi looks away, now assaulted by all the torturous thoughts surrounding that painful reminder and fighting them off with no success.

Get rid of it? He’s been trying.

For three. Fucking. Months.

“I might.”

“…K.”

And his best friend departs, leaving Yoongi inside and staring at the same black spot he’s kept in the corner for years. It has mocked him as he struggles. Laughed at him whenever he’s tried to throw it out. And aside from the times he’s made you feel better stinging himself on those strings, he has accomplished nothing except letting it win.

Pissed off and doused in guilt, Yoongi yanks himself away from the door, the instrument, and everything else except for his bed.

Keeping his shadow exactly where it stands.

Yoongi knows he needs to talk to you.

But his phone exists somewhere on the other side of his bedroom door.

And he doesn’t have the strength to go get it.

What time is it?

All that greets him is darkness.

Nothing new, but darkness all the same.

Why was she mentioned? What does that mean?

He needs to call you. He’s lying to his best friend.

Her? You. His sheets still smell like you.

Inhale. Breathe. Inhale.

He needs to call you. But he’s so, so tired.

And the darkness pulls him back under.

Without even telling him the time.

Buzzing.

Faint, gentle buzzing softly lifts Yoongi’s eyelids before a loud series of smacks causes him to rush out of bed what the fuck?

Oh. His phone fell outside. Fucking hell, his heart’s beating way too quick for that to be the only thing that happened.

Head in his hands, Yoongi sighs deep before making his way to the dining table. And it takes all of his strength to bend down to reach for his phone.

Hustler: Missed Calls (6)

Dumbass: 1 Message

Hustler: 3 Messages

Chim: 7 Messages

Chim: Missed Calls (3)

Holy fuck.

With only the light of his phone illuminating the dark, Yoongi rings Jimin up. His heart’s a little disappointed it wasn’t you calling just now, but it’s probably best to stay away while his brain is so scattered and torn.

“Oh, fuck. There you are.”

“Mm.”

“Don’t scare me like that, bro. I was starting to get ready to drive over—”

“It’s fine,” he juts in. “What’s up.”

Alright, maybe he shouldn’t be an asshole. There’s no reason to let his lingering shadow from earlier control his temper now. Jimin’s just being himself, for fuck’s sake.

“I, umm. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

Now that’s not what Yoongi expected at all. “For what?”

There’s another pause on the line, and his reaction is immediate when he knows for a fact Jimin is fighting back tears.

“I… I got so drunk last night, I—And I—”

Shit. A sinking feeling starts to weigh Yoongi down, his center pulling the rest of him in like a black hole. And he doesn’t need to hear the rest of this to know what this call is about.

“He was looking for her, Yoong, and you weren’t there, either. He had this look, I—I couldn’t think of anything else to say in the moment and I told him—”

Jimin can’t even finish his confession. And it hits right in the gut.

Despite his perceived persona, Yoongi doesn’t like hearing people cry. At least, if they don’t deserve to or don’t deserve to be sad—or if they’re you. He could care less about the rest.

But Jimin is one of the only people that can get him like this: eyes stinging at their edges and his chest concave. In the dark, though, no one can tell. No one can see him.

So he can openly swipe at his eyes before dumping tired limbs into a chair, catching his forehead in a damp palm.

“I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”

Exhaling through his nose, Yoongi tries his best to calm his emotions. Because they are still raging and it’s going to take all of him to quell this tempest.

Jimin knows more than anyone what this means to him. To you. The time you spent apart? If it wasn’t for his friend, Yoongi may have been in a much different position. If this was the only thing Park could do, then his effort has to be acknowledged. It worked like a fucking charm.

But goddamn, Yoongi wishes Jimin thought of literally anything else. He could’ve made up some random, some fling from another city, the damn studio itself.

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally rasps out. “It’s just been a fuckin’ day.”

Jimin sniffles before cursing at himself and, judging by the sounds on the line, Yoongi figures he’s opening his fridge. If he reaches for soju, that would not be surprising in the least, and now that sounds like a good idea.

“Same. Gah, I just… I should’ve warned you. I didn’t know he went over there.”

“He told you?”

“I called him after you didn’t answer earlier.”

“Oh. Yeah, I passed out after he left.”

“Ah.”

Something shuts before there’s a crisp clink on the line, validating exactly what Yoongi was thinking.

“I really am sorry. What did you end up saying?”

“That it’s done.”

A hum.

“That’s very true.”

There’s a question that Yoongi thinks to ask. Context that he needs. But as important as this information is, Yoongi doesn’t feel like talking about it right now. Or ever. But now still counts. So he switches the conversation over to something less daunting, “Practice still on tomorrow?”

When Jimin laughs out of surprise, it gives Yoongi the smallest kick of energy.

“Ah, someone actually ready to go for once?”

“Yeah. The plan is to make this game quick.”

A hearty swallow spills out of the speaker before a hum follows,

“Mm, that reminds me. Got something that might help with that.”

What the hell does that even mean? “Huh?”

“I’ll bring it over tomorrow. You might find some good uses for it.”

Yoongi rubs the grogginess still clinging to his face. “All these years and you’ve never given me a straight answer.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Knowing the answer.”

At least Jimin’s back in a good mood. Or a better state than puffy-eyed and regretful. He doesn’t have to share the pain in this, too. It was an honest mistake.

“You’ll know it when you see it.”

“Annoying.”

“Love you, too!”

Yoongi’s huff billows through his nose, and Jimin’s energy almost brings enough strength for him to clear the table.

Ehh. He’ll leave it alone. He’s been pretty good at that lately, too, no matter how early or late it is in the night. What time even is it? Checking his phone, Yoongi’s brows crease when he figures that out. Why the hell are they even on a call right now? “Wait, is it really three?”

“Huh? Yeah. I’m telling you, dude, I was getting worried.”

He was really about to drive over? “Sorry. I really did just pass out.”

“Mm. Well, I’m gonna go do that now.”

“K. Same time tomorrow?”

“Ah, a little earlier. Just so I can give this to you before everyone else shows.”

That just makes Yoongi infinitely more curious. “Seriously, what did you get?”

“Relax! You will like it.”

“Chim, I swear—”

“You’ll thank me later bye!”

As soon as Jimin disappears from the line, Yoongi is left alone again.

Exactly where he always ends up.

Exactly where he doesn’t want to be.

But now that he’s done dealing with those notifications, Yoongi roams lidded eyes over his screen again.

Wait. You called him six times? Fuck. What did you text? Were you wondering where he was, too?

Hustler [20:01]: HOLY FUCK!! my phone died after i tried calling you this morning and i just fully woke up to charge it😭 he’s not home so call whenever

Yoongi clutches his phone a little tighter.

He very much would’ve rather been in your bed with you all day.

That sounds like fucking bliss.

Hustler [23:37]: tried calling but he’s home now. are you ok?? idk what’s going on with him but i think we need to be careful

Shit, Yoongi didn’t get to tell you. You’ve probably been worried about that every second you’ve been awake today.

And he couldn’t even make it out of his goddamn room to help.

All he comes with is worries for you. What kind of shit is this? What is he even doing? He even outright told you that you were dating only for that to be ripped from your hands for months. Why are you still giving someone like him a chance?

Hustler [23:40]: but all i wanna do is see you

Fucking hell.

Nothing in the world can stop his heartbeat quite like you can. With that smile, or those eyes, or the simple shit like this. Not even lightning can strike him the same way.

Despite the consistency Yoongi has with admitting his own shortcomings, and despite the way he keeps reminding himself he doesn’t deserve you…

All he wants to do is see you, too.

You’ve been more than he ever would’ve imagined—your consideration, your intellect, your mind. And there have been times when you’d look at him as if he was the center of your galaxy.

After all this time. All these days and nights.

You still don’t realize that he was destined to orbit you.

It’s been decided long before his mind was made up—at least, the part of him that doesn’t traverse the dark side. His heart had been tugging him to you ever since that rainy day, no matter where he’s drifted or which direction he’s gone in. All of them lead back into your arms.

But just like the feeling he gets walking into the recording booth, imposter syndrome eats him alive and doubt scavenges on what’s left.

He will never be good enough for you. One of these days, you will realize that you don’t have to settle for him. It’s good now, but you’ll only give him so many chances, which he is swiftly running through at breakneck speeds.

How fucking stupid. Having these thoughts while wanting nothing more than to hear your voice.

Just like everyone else, you’ll eventually be done passing through. His winter will return after your inevitable departure, all the warmth you give focused on something else that deserves it more.

Something that isn’t broken.

Yoongi whips his head up at the sound of buzzing, noticing thin lines of light beneath his phone on the table.

What. No way.

From the rapid beats inside his chest, he shoots his hopes right into the dark.

And they burst into beautiful sparks when he reads his screen.

Hustler: Incoming Call

But just like the streaks of color he witnessed with you on that balcony, his brightness is short lived. Because as soon as Yoongi answers, the way your throat constricts scorches his windpipe through.

And the first thing you attempt to get through makes his eyes shut tight.

“Are we… is this over?”

Fuck.

“I get it, if we are. If you—if you don’t wanna do this with me anymore.”

Fuck. Fuck everything this is not happening right now. “Hold up,” Yoongi breathes, body on full alert. “What’s going on?”

“I thought… When you weren’t picking up, I—”

“Breathe, babe,” Yoongi softens, hating, hating, hating himself all over again. “I passed out before you called. That’s it.”

“Oh. Shit, I really thought—”

“You would know,” he whooshes, syllables squeezed out by the mountain of regret on his back. After hearing what he put you through? Hearing how you sound now? There’s no way he can do that shit again. No more disappearing from the grid because he can’t fight himself. “You would know if I was done.”

Your sniffle sinks the ship with his heart inside.

“Are you? With me?”

Yoongi folds, fingers digging through his hair and blocking it in hard chunks. The amount of things he wants to say to you could wrap the whole world before repeating. But he settles with a truth he can say out loud,

“No way in hell, doll.”

Please. Don’t cry. Because he can only handle feeling his eyes sting so much in one night. There’s only so much he can take before he’s grabbing his keys and speeding over—friends and brothers be damned.

“Okay… I’m just. It’s been a day.”

That’s okay.

Because he’s had a day, too.

“I don’t wanna bother you with it, though, it’s so late.”

Please keep going.

Please don’t leave him alone.

“Talk to me.”

Like a gentle stream, your recap—though not ideal—washes away the weariness from Yoongi’s eyes. Lifts the weight he bears on his shoulders, even if just a little bit.

You’re so good at that.

“Well. Umm. He saw me coming home this morning. And, umm. It was weird. I don’t know why but I think we have to be really careful. And ugh, it—. It sucks because he’s going on a trip soon and I don’t wanna stress him out even more but I—”

Shit, you’ve probably been holding all of this in ever since you got up. You don’t know that your brother believes something entirely different. But of course you’d be considerate, even now. That’s just who you are.

“I, umm. I feel so fucking bad about it but I don’t wanna mess him up right now. Or maybe he knows but just won’t say it? Fuck, sorry, I’m trying not—to—”

The phone goes mute, and Yoongi’s head suddenly weighs ten times heavier.

“He doesn’t know, babe,” he soothes, hating how he can’t be there to comfort you with more than his word and waves in the sky.

If he was stronger, things could be different by now. Vastly different. Vastly better. You would cry less, he knows that for damn sure. Weak, weak, weak. That’s all he fucking is.

The only one he seems to be strong for is you. “He came over earlier.”

“Fuck, really?”

“Yeah.”

You pause, seemingly to roll this information around that beautiful mouth of yours, and Yoongi has the strongest yearning to kiss all your worries right out of it.

“What did he say?”

Shit. You’ll just have to forgive him later. Because Yoongi chooses not to tell the whole truth. You don’t need to bear the same worries as him, anyway. They aren’t yours. He will shoulder all of those on his own. Because he’s the reason for them in the first place. “Nothing about us.”

“Oh, thank fuck.”

Good. Your relief is all that matters. But Yoongi still feels bad for not being able to pick himself up. You could’ve known that a lot sooner if he was stronger. If he was better. “So don’t worry, doll.”

“Okay. What about you? Are you okay?”

Huh? Your questions catch him completely off-guard. It’s almost comical how his first reaction goes straight to a No. But sticking to his earlier stances, he won’t bother you with any of that. There is a truth that he can admit. One that’s always true and will continue to be so. “Just wanna see you.”

And this is when his eyes slowly shut. Don’t. Don’t cry.

“Me, too, baby.”

Hearing that? Chipped and broken from your lips? That is another thing Yoongi can’t handle. His heart beats once before it free falls, and he clutches his phone just a little tighter.

Fuck everything. He’s gonna find a way to do this. All of it.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You will?”

He’ll figure out how to move mountains to make it up to both you and your brother.

“Just a little longer.”

He has to.

“Okay.”

Neither of you deserve this. And he doesn’t deserve either of you. Truly, the only thing he deserves is to be alone. And judging by the way things are going, it’s only a matter of time before you start resenting this behavior and leave, too.

“Thank you.”

What? Something in Yoongi flickers, and he lifts his whole head to eye his screen.

“For putting up with me.”

Oh. Of course you’d assume you’re the issue. Seems like you need the same type of assurance that he does. Both of you the same? Who would’ve thought his bruised soul would sync up with a perfect one like yours.

At this, he holds his breath before chuckling soft. “This has been the highlight of my day, doll,” he admits, finally breaking into a tiny smile and sitting back.

“Really?”

Wait. There was another good part of his day. But he wants to save that for when he can tell you in person. “One of them. But you’ll hear about the other one later.”

“Boo.”

Cute. Wait, isn’t it absurdly late? You have to be up for work in mere hours. It’s a miracle you reached out when you did. “Don’t you have to be up soon?”

“A ha… Yeah.”

“What are you still talking to me for?”

“I miss you.”

Well. That’s not something that he expected. And your admittance being so immediate actually sends shivers down his arms.

Yoongi can only laugh to himself. He knew he had it bad, but this feeling is something else. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what? Miss you? Yeah, right.”

God. You’re getting too fucking good at this. He’s gotta fight back or else his throne will be taken before he even sees you again. “Just a bad night to say it, doll.”

“Why?”

Perfect. “Cus I’m willing to get in the car.”

“Fuck.”

Yoongi happily lets his mouth slant when you groan, chuckling into the receiver and getting up to clear the table. When he flicks on the kitchen light, he doubles down, “Wanna try again?”

He knows you’re gonna say no. Even though your brother doesn’t know, it’s definitely not a proper time to sneak you out—as much as he fucking wants to. Fuck, to be the one sneaking you out of your house… Maybe there’s another version of you both out there that’s done it. A version of him watching a version of you creeping out to his car, face shining in nightfall and etching a permanent smile into his heart.

“I hate you.”

Yoongi should’ve expected that. The sudden laugh that flings out into his liquor cabinet ricochets off multiple bottles, and he shuts it while sporting a wide grin. “That’s better.”

“Ha ha.”

You’re smiling, too. Cute ass. Just the fact that he knows makes him excited for the future, and he’s determined to make it count. Make it worth it. You deserve every goddamn apology he can give. “I miss you, too, babe,” he whispers, grabbing the glasses from the table to wash in his sink.

“Nu uh! You hate me, too.”

Wait. Did you…

Did you just pout?

Hell no, that’s outright cheating. That’s when Yoongi will never be able to win. Putting the phone down, he promptly states his new plan into a basin, “Nah, I’m going to sleep.”

“Wait, huh? Why!”

“Nothing.”

“I swear to god—”

“Nothing at all,” Yoongi lies, voice straight as he can muster while hot water runs over his hands. It’s a good kind of sting as his chilled skin adjusts, and he cleans one glass before he hears you ask in his ear,

“Getting ready for bed? Or are you in the kitchen?”

The smallest smile graces his face. “Guess.”

“Kitchen.”

The hell? “How’d you know?”

“You’re always in there.”

Can’t deny that. The glasses are both set to dry in the dishwasher as Yoongi’s amusement dies down, and his next comment flows out before he can think much of it, “You like to keep me in here.”

“It does seem to be where we end up, huh?”

“It does.” Which is fine by him. He’ll never forget all the times you’ve been in here. Your laughter and your storms, he will remember them all.

“The world said let them cook.”

Your giggles will be the fucking end of him one day. Fuck, he can’t wait to see you. He may even find a way to see you before the game.

But for now, Yoongi will figure out how to talk to you, every day, no matter what. Texts, calls, whatever the fuck. The effort has got to show from now on. No more of this dark headspace shit. He needs to try harder and figure it out faster. For you.

“Go to sleep, doll,” he huffs with full cheeks.

After another adorable batch of sounds, you rustle on the line before sighing,

“You better sleep, too.”

“I will.”

With a blink, Yoongi notices two things. One, he just cleared his table and cleaned up without even thinking. And two, despite feeling like absolute shit the entire day and dreading the coming of night, falling asleep won’t be an issue.

Because of you. It’s always you.

Maybe there’s a way out. Maybe he can finally face it all and come out on the other side. “Talk to you tomorrow, babe.”

“I’d like that. And you’re sure he doesn’t know?”

Just like that, the demons are knocking again. Closing his eyes, Yoongi murmurs into the receiver, “I’m sure.”

There will come a time when he will tell you. But that will be way in the future, when he is ready. For now, you’ll just have to trust that he’s telling the truth. Not the whole truth, but enough for it to calm your nerves.

“Okay. Good night, baby.”

One more heartbeat to get him through the night.

“Night, doll.”

When the phone cuts, Yoongi’s hand falls, his stare shifting straight to the living room.

Right towards the corner that stares back.

It’s been five days.

But it feels like you’ve aged twenty-eight years.

Ever since your brother confronted you—after your much needed reunion with his best friend—you’ve been floating through time. Lost. Confused. Wondering why that conversation went the way it did and gnawing at your sanity bit by bit.

And even though Yoongi explicitly told you he didn’t say anything concerning your relationship, you still haven’t shaken that feeling. No matter where you are, who you’re with, or on a pretty Friday like this one, you feel… Strange.

When you saw your brother waiting, you for sure thought you were gonna get grilled. It was a given you were gonna break as soon as he started asking deeper and more specific questions. The fallout was gonna happen in your own house right at your door.

…So what in the fuck was that?

You shift your legs, the chill of the office failing to comfort you in your manufactured, building distress.

Somehow, that version of the conversation proved much, much worse. Because now you’re spiraling trying to figure out why he just took your lie as the truth. Truthfully, you feel nauseous. And as much as you need to get some semblance of closure, you still feel hesitant. Because if he’s just biding time? He’s not just thinking about what to do with you.

He’s thinking about what to do with Yoongi, too.

This is so hard.

The only thing—the only thing—keeping you grounded. Is Yoongi himself.

Ever since the call you never thought he’d answer, you’ve been contacted every night. What was once days of radio silence quickly shifted to him reaching out however he could, hours of the day be damned. Just last night, in fact, Yoongi sent you texts at four in the morning, and you beam just thinking about what he said so casually.

Yoongi [3:57am]: That keyboard I told you about is fucking dope. Just got it today and it won’t let me sleep lmaooo

Yoongi [3:58am]: I was gonna say sorry for texting but fuck it you’re getting all the updates :)

No matter what it is, be it a text, call, or video chat, Yoongi seems fully committed and in the moment. Present. And it’s been… Really nice. If you didn’t have your brother’s shadow hovering over your brain, life would be practically perfect.

Forcing yourself to actually work, you manage to get some small things done. Even the meeting you attend goes smoothly and you leave any outside worries on the other side of those glass walls.

So when you get back to your desk, an awaiting paper bag makes you pause. And your whole body prepares to weep.

Only one person has ever sent you food while you’re at work. And staring inside the parcel, you would’ve been able to tell who it was from even if said person had never sent any before.

There’s a small note on top of a to-go container—one that you immediately recognize as that super good restaurant next to Jungkook’s studio.

What the hell? How did Yoongi know you wanted some this whole week but didn’t wanna risk being so close? With careful fingers, you pluck the tiny paper from the bag, opening it with care before your eyes get so teary eyed you can’t even read.

Tonight.

This man.

I got the next one.

This wonderful, charming man.

But you’re getting what I need so here’s the list:

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi.

Seeing an actual list of food squeezes a laugh through your throat in a squeak, tears rushing out of your ducts before they’re hastily swiped.

After five days. Yoongi really just sent you on a grocery run to surprise you with another meetup.

The gesture is so him that you cannot help but shake your head, ruefully huffing to no one and pocketing the note in your bag. And all your worries scatter even further.

A dinner before the big game is risky, for sure, but at this point you couldn’t care less. Your brother has his own work outing tonight, anyway, and you are dead set on breaking all of this to him soon.

Even though you are very much unprepared. And he is going to lose his fucking mind if he doesn’t know already. Fuck.

You’ve had all five days to think it over. All the possible combinations and possibilities and outcomes. Some of them are extreme, some of them are hopeful. But for a majority of these projections, you have a feeling that none of you are gonna leave it without wounds.

And you don’t know how you’re gonna save both of them if theirs are cut too deep.

Regardless, that’s in the future. Not now. Right now, you are staying in the present and working like molasses until you can jet out the door, nary a care nor concern weighing on your heels.

Tonight. He’s gonna cook for you?

You’ll have the first substantial meal you’ve had in months.

Even though you want nothing more than to see Yoongi, your nerves are still buzzing and bumping into each other nonstop. There’s a lot you still need to know. Like why he was radio silent for months, and why your brother has been a little weird this whole week.

Save it for later. Hopefully Yoongi will tell you why eventually. Or that gap will stay elusive to your brain forever.

Sliding into your car, you dump your bag in the passenger seat before pulling out the list, clutching it close and taking a leap that could either calm your nerves or spike them.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

When he picks up, you legitimately don’t answer. Because even after all this time, you still can’t quite function when you hear that deep voice addressing you directly.

“Hey.”

All you have to do is say something. Anything. You could rattle off the damn list, stumbling over all the syllables just like they’re currently smushed together in your fingers.

But you don’t snap out of this trance until he speaks again.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” you squeak out, clearing your throat while watching other people walk to their cars. “Hi, sorry. I just umm.”

You just what? Somehow lost all sense of language just from him saying hi? Get it together. Stop that racket in your stomach and say what you were gonna say. “Thank you for the food. I’m off work now so I’m heading to the store.”

He simply huffs a quiet laugh.

“Get whatever you want, too. Just let me know how much it is.”

Huh. Did Yoongi just say all those words in that order? If you heard him right, forget the damn food. You’re close to speeding directly to his place and breaking down the motherfucking door. “Oh, I definitely will,” you respond with instead of hauling ass, the words pushing through your lingering smile. “And don’t worry about that, I got it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah! I got big girl money now.”

Yoongi laughs again on the line, fuller and closer this time. Are you on speaker?

“It’s like that? Maybe I should work there, too.”

“Oh, you’d hate it,” you giggle, scheming hard in your head for tonight already. Pretty bubbles in your ribs lift all your spirits. “I’m actually pretty bossy here.”

The groan that seeps through your car should be illegal.

“That is literally what I’ve been wanting to see.”

It’s your turn to chuckle as you finally make your way out of the parking lot, heading right to the market that you know for a fact has all of what he’s asking for. “I’m only that way at work, though.”

“Do better.”

Your immediate response makes his laugh crunchy in the speakers, and you go along with him because life is good. Life is fucking great right now. “Never mind, you’re paying. And I’m getting stuff for dessert now, too.”

“What? Who said anything about dessert?”

“Me,” you huff out in pride. Since he wants to see that demanding side come out so bad. With a fleeting thought, you think about what it could be like if you end up confident enough to—

“I’m starting to regret this.”

“Regret what?”

“Everything.”

Liar! Your cheeks hurt as you look both ways before making a turn. “Can’t fool me. You’re excited.”

“I am.”

The way there was no hesitation sends shivers up your spine. But it’s partly because you thought you’d be faced with another joke or dig. Not a sudden one-eighty. Stopping at a light, you clear your throat before shyness puffs right out of it. “Well, good,” you state while checking your mirrors. “Cus I am, too.”

“That’s a given, though.”

“Excuse you.”

Yoongi laughs before you hear the sound of cabinets, and you wonder which ones he could be touching.

“Mm, babe. One more thing.”

Can he stop making your heart beat two times at once? “Hmm?”

There’s a little bit of pause, followed by the clank of a pan on metal. When you hear another hum, you wonder what he could possibly—

“I think we’re out of condoms.”

Who is out of what. If you weren’t still at a red, your foot would’ve slammed on the gas because what the fuck! All you can manage out are sounds without substance, random syllables, gibberish. Nothing is computing in your head.

“Wait. Or are we?”

Okay, Yoongi needs to stop with that two-letter word before your behavior turns downright criminal. With as much seriousness as you can manage, you accuse, “Are you just fucking with me?”

And his response launches you forward just as the light turns green,

“Yeah. That’s why we’re out of—”

“Alright!” you cut in, stopping stopping stopping him because for whatever reason, this conversation is too much. Despite seeing this very man naked in many, many ways, just having this talk with him is making you shier than ever before. “Guess I’ll, umm. Get those, too.”

“Nah, you don’t have to.”

“Oh. Found some?”

“No.”

Wait. If he didn’t find some why is he telling you that you don’t have to— “Oh,” you peep in realization. A very sudden, jaw dropping realization. “Goddamn it, you’re too distracting now, bye.”

And he finally breaks with laughter that’s contagious as hell. Which isn’t fair when you’re pretending to be upset with him. Even when you can’t see Yoongi, you can imagine the way his cheeks rise and his eyes crease. The way the whole room illuminates when he’s packed with happiness.

And you want that to be the case forever.

“You’re just lucky I’m not there with you.”

“Yeah, you’d be annoying as hell.”

“Damn!”

As the market comes into view, your teeth shine as you grin, roasting this man quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes.

“To be fair,” you start to amend, fingers drumming on the wheel as you decide whether or not to say what you want. After deciding that there’s no wrong answer here, you softly admit, “I really do wanna get groceries with you.”

There’s no words that come out in response. Only the slight movements of shuffling and water running and what could be more cabinets closing. But you don’t really know for sure—

“It’s gonna happen, doll.”

You clutch the wheel.

“Cus I want that, too.”

One of these days you’re gonna see this damn cat again.

Foot connecting with Yoongi’s door, you grunt as multiple bags burden your limbs, pride digging divots along your arms—second trips be damned.

It doesn’t take long for him to let you in anyway, and you swoon at the way he doesn’t even ask while taking some of your baggage. But the kiss on your cheek makes your heart bang into everything between the front door and the kitchen. It’s so distracting that you barely smell the spices greeting you, too.

“Thanks for getting all this,” Yoongi says as you both cross onto tile.

“Of course.” Lifting the much lighter load that you have, you revel in the small thumps and thuds on his counter. Not really knowing why. “Let’s put this up before I yell at you.”

His laugh comes out in hisses while you both start reaching into bags. “For what!”

“Sent me everywhere to find some of this shit.”

“You could’ve asked somebody.”

Feeling a bit silly and high off his presence already, you repeat his words in a goofy mocking tone, and the way he blows out air sends your belly fluttering.

And just like that, things are back to normal again. No worries about your sibling, or work, or anything else looming by the door. Inside is what matters, and the whole apartment fills with jabs and jokes as groceries find their homes.

But Yoongi finds a bag you had separated from the rest, and you snap your mouth shut when he looks inside, something rising in your core when he turns to you with an eyebrow raised. And a smirk so salacious it makes you quiver.

“What about it,�� you squeak out, crumbling when he simply takes the bag and flings it through his bedroom door. “You said you—we were out, so…”

“That’s a big box, doll,” he points out on his way to your tightly bitten lip. Mouth slicing through your sanity, he approaches you with a glint in his eyes. “Got something you wanna say?”

“Nope,” you whoosh out oh god he looks way too hot in those sweats wait is that a growing bulge? “Although I will say it took me forever to pick out what—”

Sparks ignite your hands when your lips are claimed, launching them into his shirt and tugging him backward because you’ve been waiting way too long to kiss the shit out of him.

And Yoongi responds in kind, pinning you to his fridge and so, very obvious that he’s been waiting for this, too.

Heaven probably wonders how to replicate this feeling. How to imitate this treasured yearning that only he can pull from the depths of your ocean. Deep, deeper, deepest. All these kisses. Your ascending affection.

“As much as I wanna throw you on my bed,” Yoongi jokes, pulling away and giving your cheek a light tap. “I’m taking you somewhere.”

And you’re so thrown from the impact that your brain mini-resets. “Huh? We’re leaving?”

“Uh huh.”

Hold on. Wait. Is this what he meant when he said he’s getting the next one? You’re going out to eat? Together? No. No, there’s no way. Yoongi knows that’s the worst possible thing to do right now, as much as the idea is sending your belly in a frenzy. “Are you sure? What about dinner? Won’t people… You know.”

“It’s ready already,” he reveals. “By the door.”

Your head snaps to where he points out, even though you can’t see through the bar. “Really?” No wonder it smells like a cooking aftermath. All those smells twirling around your head. How did you not even catch the dishes in the sink?

But hold up, you just bought a shit ton of food! “Then what the hell was the run for?”

Yoongi blinks. Then he does it again. Expression stone still, he responds as if you were privy to his plans this entire time, “I told you to get what I needed.”

Your turn to blink.

“And I needed food.”

This man is going to be the death of you. Affronted, your jaw hangs before you grit through a smile that betrays you, “Oh, you—”

“So thanks,” he quips through another tilt of his lips. “Let’s go, doll.”

The begrudged sound that leaves you makes him kick his head back on the way out the kitchen.

“Eat.”

The container on your thighs warms you through. “Now?”

“Mm.”

“I can wait,” you assure, watching as night paints the surrounding scenery in navy and black. “We can eat together.”

“Just a bite then.”

Turning to Yoongi, you don’t see a change in his face as he eyes the road. The veins in his arm catch all the streetlight, and you gulp before your gaze falls to what he made. Music fills the car, and you decide that maybe you do feel a little hungry. So you listen to instruction, popping it open and being careful as you pluck a piece to try.

There’s no denying it. This motherfucker is a chef. “Fuck, this is good.”

Your borderline moan sends Yoongi’s shoulders bobbing, and you will never get over those low, gravelly laughs. “Sorry.” Your hand hovers over your mouth in embarrassment. “I don’t react like that unless I’m alone.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, well,” you swallow. “Course you don’t.”

A tiny peek of teeth show as Yoongi smiles, and you don’t expect what he offers next, “Just be you, doll. It’s just me.”

The next bite of food pauses on the way to your mouth. “Oh,” you murmur. “Same for you then.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“Cus we wouldn’t make it to where we’re going.”

That was legitimately the worst time to put food in your mouth. Sputtering, your words come out low and chortled, “You fucker.”

His hisses are brief before he dips into silence again. As he slowly turns the wheel, you can see a glimpse of something deep in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly apologizes, swallowing as you keep your gaze.

What is that look? Weren’t you both just having a good time? “For what, baby?”

“Everything.”

Your lungs flinch. This is definitely not what you expected to hear on the way to wherever the hell you’re going. “Oh.”

Yoongi still doesn’t look your way, and with each pass of a light over his face, you catch quick snapshots of those eyes you’re still so shy of. “I, umm. I didn’t expect shit to pan out this way.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper.

After a slow motion of disagreement, his head falls forward just a bit. And your eyes find his hand clutching the gear shift in what you sadly think is frustration. “I’ve just thought about some things,” he starts, another song playing. “How worried you must’ve been.”

You look forward. Because this is the part where you can’t face him. “I was. But not for the same reason as last time.” Without a hesitation of your own, your palm reaches between your seats. And you can tell Yoongi watches as you take his hand to hold.

“I was worried about you,” you correct with softness. “It was hard because I didn’t know what to do.” Don’t fucking cry. You filled quite a few buckets already. “When you started not really saying much, I just… Hoped it was for a good reason, so. Yeah.”

You feel your hand gently pulled, which is already enough to make you melt. But when it’s kissed, you don’t know what the hell to fucking do.

“I’m sorry, doll,” Yoongi whispers into your skin, lips brushing with every syllable and painting a canvas of his reconcile. “I won’t leave you hanging like that again.”

There’s a tiny fire in the back of your throat, the embers reaching your eyes just a little too aggressively. You attempt to squash the growing flames before they flare. “Oh. Umm. Thank you.” What else do you say? Yoongi’s being wonderful, but why do you feel… sad? Why is there lingering snow on your windowsill? “Were you worried?”

“Me? Umm.” He stops at a light that he clearly didn’t want to stop at. Resting your conjoined hands on his pliant thigh, his jaw works as he observes them.

And you wonder if he thinks they slot together perfectly, too.

“…Yeah.”

Fuck. “About what?”

“That you’d hate me.”

Your heart meshes his fingers with yours. “Yoongi.”

“Or that you shouldn’t be with someone that’s gone this much.”

Fuck, he’s doing it again. Regressing. You’ve seen it happen in his kitchen and you’ll be damned if all that work, all that peeling, all that resolution amounted to nothing wait, wait, stop. This isn’t gonna be an overnight fix. And you have no clue what’s been happening, so just keep trying, trying, trying.

“I’m used to people leaving,” you joke, but not really. “Like seasons.”

He whips his head to you, and you backpedal because that probably sounded so random. You’ve got to think about filtering your thoughts a little more now that you’re getting comfortable. Yoongi says you can be yourself, sure, but you have to admit your quirks are a little out there. “I know it’s weird, but..”

He’s quiet as the light turns green. And when you don’t finish, he admits, “I think the same.”

“You do?”

Your hand is brushed as a hum peppers it from above. “Mmhmm.”

“Well.” That’s interesting. You didn’t know anyone thought about that stuff like you did. Now you wonder if there’s anywhere else your wavelengths sync, and if they’ve been syncing up all this time. “At least you come back.”

Yoongi squeezes your hand tight before he holds it against his lips. Again. Fuck, this is a lot. You’re so wrapped up in his gesture that you don’t catch what he whispers.

“Hmm?”

He glances at the center console before putting your hand back on his thigh.

“Always, doll.”

And the fire you stepped on rages back with a vengeance. Heat and sting surrounds your eyes, and you don’t hide how you press your feelings into his skin. “Me, too.”

If you weren’t lost in the surrounding scenery outside, you would have caught Yoongi’s look. But all you feel is his hand clutching you tight, and it breaks you down all the same.

The rest of the drive is spent with him telling you to eat more, and a bunch of your sing-alongs to almost every song that comes on. It seems like the tiny bit of closure opened you both up, and you don’t even realize that you’ve been on the road for a really long time.

But finally, Yoongi pulls up to a building, and you’re haphazardly rapping along to a song before you notice. Wait. What? He drove you to a rec center?

Your fingers curl around his forearm before you even notice. “What’s this?”

“Where we’re going.”

Hold on, you’re going inside? “Are we even allowed to be here?”

When Yoongi responds, his teeth make you shiver as he smirks. “Can’t say for sure, no.”

“Then why—”

He unlocks before you can finish, and you’re left in an empty car until he rounds the hood, coming over to your side and opening the door. You almost don’t hear what he says next, too focused on the jewelry swinging from his neck as he bends forward.

But you catch it, and glance once more at the sight in front of you before biting your lip—in nervousness or excitement, you can’t decide.

“You comin’?”

Damn. Obviously, you want nothing more than to see him here. And it’s much too late for anyone to be around. But if something happens… Whatever.

Your mouth finally unsticks. “If we get caught, you’re gonna pay for this.”

And you can’t resist his stupid grin. “Now get your pretty ass out before I put you in the back.”

“Yoongi!”

Grinning, he leads you out, and you follow him to the trunk. After bouncing his stowed ball a couple times, he decides to lean in and reach for something else.

Wait. Is that what you think it is? “Did you always have that in there?” you ask, pointing to the contraption that Yoongi’s using to air up his basketball.

And he does a horrible job at suppressing a smile. Which makes you burst into flutters and beats beats beats. “You liar!” Oh, you are gonna wipe those laughs from his throat. “I had to change up my plans because of you!”

Palming the ball, Yoongi tilts his head dangerously to one side. “And I got to see you,” he proudly claims. “So I’ll take it.”

You hate how the memories come packaged with what’s haunted you. What else happened during that time, and what happened after you left. But there’s no way you’re gonna bring that up. Not when the night has transformed into something so magical.

So you just clutch your food and lean on his car, opting to compliment him to wipe the murk away. “Got to see you, too,” you puff into the brisk night. Because you harbor a bit of nostalgia in your bones. And because he still makes you shy. “You and your stupid hair.”

Another bout of hisses wisp into your side. As you turn to regard Yoongi again, he slips his chains into his hoodie before continuing, and you swoon at the veins popping out of his skin with each pump.

How can he look so perfect doing the simplest things? So unfair.

After seconds that feel like an hour, Yoongi’s done. And he scans the parking lot before telling you to follow him.

What you expect is some outdoor courts. Maybe getting past a gate or two. So when you approach a back door lit by the shine of a single light, you freeze. “Are we really going in?”

Fishing something out of his pocket, Yoongi simply turns over his shoulder. “Yeah. Why not?”

“Oh.” You didn’t think you’d actually get inside the building. If there was an outside court just as accessible it would’ve made sense. Can you even bring food in here? Is that question even relevant? “No reason.”

“So I shouldn’t bust in?”

Huh. “What?”

“I’ve already done it a few times, so.”

“Wait!” Nerves throw your hand on his bicep before you can stop. “What if someone sees us?”

He’s so warm. And so toned. And if he plans on taking his hoodie off? You’re not prepared for whatever the hell he has underneath.

Voice softened, Yoongi tries to placate your paranoia, “They won’t, doll.”

“Are you sure? If we get caught here they’re gonna call the police and I am definitely not… Gonna…”

The object in his hand jangles, and you clearly see he was just joking the whole time because keys—keys—stare you in the face.

What is it with him and keys?

When Yoongi speaks, you feel like you’ve never done anything bad in your life, and suddenly the thought of trespassing with an official way in is so scandalous,

“You picked the wrong night to be a good girl.”

You have to admit. Seeing him so mischievous and dashing makes you wanna follow him wherever the hell he goes. Even if it gets you in trouble. Even if you were breaking in tonight, you would be all in. And that thought should frighten you, but it only does because of the wings tickling your rib cage.

How can he make you feel rebellious and yet still so shy? The power of Min Yoongi. He’s way too good at destroying you.

When you glare, the man only grins, hisses of laughter leaving him way too happily before he unlocks the door to no alarms or sirens. He doesn’t need to throw a wink your way, too, but of course he does as he lets you in. Which causes you to float through the dark entryway instead of walk oh he did not just slap your ass!

A jolt in your cunt causes you to regard him in shock. To which he hums in a feigned question. “Hmm?”

With nothing but darkness and his cologne surrounding you, it’s only natural that giddiness takes hold. Truthfully, you’re packed with so much adrenaline that you feel a little wild yourself. “You’ve been waiting to do that, huh.”

“So fucking long.”

You are not surviving the night. And you don’t give a single shit.

But as shy and out of control as you feel around this man, you also feel safe—even in a faraway, dark building that you’ve never been in before. That’s gotta say something about him, right?

Yoongi feels along the wall beside you for lights, purposefully bumping your chest with his front even though he’s securing a ball with an arm. When you question his joking decision with noises, a chaste kiss on your lips shuts you right up.

“You’re in the way,” he jokes through what you think is a smile, and you’re about to move when he flicks on a switch very far away from your shoulder.

Liar! Your jaw drop must be comical because Yoongi’s grin stretches astronomically wide. But you cannot find a retort because seeing him so chill while you’re stiff from paranoia has you at a loss.

Is this how he used to be all the time? This carefree, all caution to the wind? He’s so fucking handsome like this. No wonder he’s pulled so many hearts just like yours.

When you still don’t find any words to say, Yoongi makes it harder, stepping so close that you have to swing the plastic container away. Taking one of your hands in his free one, he gives it a warm squeeze while murmuring,

“You’re so cute.”

“How,” you ask just as softly.

And Yoongi responds with lights in his eyes. “Just are.”

Your lips mesh with his as he keeps your fingers secured, and suddenly every cautious thing in your body gets launched into the skies, too.

But it ends as soon as it begins. And Yoongi backs away from you with a smile,

“Eat.”

“Huh?”

“Eat, doll,” he orders before turning and dribbling onto the court.

When you call out that he hasn’t eaten yet, Yoongi tells you that he already did. When you look around to figure out where to even sit, you decide on the closest set of bleachers and make yourself as comfortable as you can.

Which is impossible. Because they’re bleachers. Which is now triple impossible. Because Yoongi just shucked off his hoodie and the only thing he had under it was his chains goddamn it.

If you weren’t already sitting down you would’ve fallen right into the next dimension. How the fuck are you supposed to eat in these conditions shit he’s walking over!

Your throat seizes as Yoongi approaches, face trained as if he isn’t aware of his overwhelming presence. All he does is bend to place his sweater next to your legs. But the quick smooch on your lips makes you swoon harder than you ever have.

And the way his silver taps your chest makes you mentally hold on for dear life. Wait. What the fuck, Yoongi’s taking them off right now? Right in front of you? Just as you're supposed to eat oh okay he’s handing them to you great wonderful fantastic.

The metal links feel so warm yet slightly cold to the touch. Weighty, yet light. But you clutch them in your hand as you connect a gaze to his.

“Relax,” he orders, lightly slapping the side of your thigh. “No need to worry.”

And with bangs swishing, he goes right back to the ball waiting for him. Leaving you starry-eyed to hell with silver in your palm.

…Did all of that just happen? Is any of this even real? Quite frankly, you fucking forgot what you were even worried about.

No matter what he does—simple lay-ups standing in place, dribbling to different spots to shoot, or even lazily jogging after the ball—you’re so enthralled with his actions that you forget that you’re not supposed to be here.

And it takes your last bite of food for something to finally hit you. How does Yoongi have keys to this place? Where the hell did he score those because you don’t think he ever mentioned anything about working here. Or anywhere else other than the studio.

Yet another mystery to add to this walking, bare-chested enigma.

But there’s another question forming behind your eyes the longer you watch him practice, the more you notice how he’s actually going hard. Yoongi’s really good right now. A lot better than what you’ve seen of him before.

Has he been coming here more often than he’s let on? And why does he look so… serious? You’d be surprised if he even remembered you’re here.

Setting your empty container down, you gather the chains in your hands again, deciding to slip them over your head for safer keeping. After, you grab a water before stepping down the bleachers, hanging a little ways away until Yoongi notices you’re courtside.

And when he sees you, he stops practicing immediately, jogging to you so sweaty and shining and gross and handsome and— “Wait, you’re all swea—”

You’re pulled into a kiss the same time you hear a basketball drop, salt on your tongue and damp palms on your cheeks. And you melt right into the shiny wood floor, drifting, drifting, sailing into dreamland even though you’re technically already there.

“Sweaty,” you whisper into his hot breaths of exertion, a twinge between your legs when he kisses you even deeper—breathing, inhaling, taking you in. “Gross.”

“Thanks.”

You flash a smile against Yoongi’s lips, giggling because this is all better than anything your brain could’ve conjured on its own. When you ask why he’s going so hard, all you get is a question in return,

“You’re perfect, you know that?”

Huh? Blinking, you suddenly don’t remember your own train of thought. “What did I do?”

“Nothing.” He presses a wet mouth to your nose. “Did you eat?”

Laughing, you reassure him, “I did, I did.”

“Good. You bored?”

“Huh?”

Yoongi leans to softly take your lips this time, and you want to say he’s approaching the legal limit for kisses tonight. “Thought you came over cus you wanna leave.”

“And stop seeing you play? I could watch this forever.” You squeeze the water bottle a little tighter. “Just checking on you.” Another strike hits between your legs when Yoongi takes another, lazier glide over your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you forward by your bottoms, fingers slick from use.

You could do this for eternity, too.

“Well I got about five more minutes in me, so..”

This man.

“Forever might be a stretch.”

“Ah, shut up. Here,” you offer through a giggle, holding the water out for him to take.

“Thanks.” When he does, he tilts his head at just the right angle to cut you through, gulping down liquid and making you do the same to your nothingness.

So unfair. “You looked like you were going pretty hard.”

Lowering the bottle, Yoongi shifts his jaw before taunting something a ways off. “I kinda was.”

“It was kinda hot.”

His laugh makes you smile, and his next swig makes you weep. “Nah, but. This is our practice gym. I can just zone out here, so. It’s been one of those things.”

Ah. Was this one of the places Yoongi ended up during those months apart? You wish he could’ve brought you along sometimes. Or at least thought about asking. It’s nice just to be around him while he does something he likes. Gaining courage, you say exactly what’s on your mind, “You can always bring me, too. If you want.”

And it’s true. You don’t really have to do much when you’re with him, because just being around him is what brightens your day. Lifts your mood.

But you have to admit that watching him play basketball while shirtless is the biggest fucking win in history.

When did Yoongi get so close? When did his eyes retreat so far away? “I didn’t wanna bother you with this,” he admits, a drop of sweat clinging onto his chin. “I don’t even put music on.”

“You never bother me,” you whisper back. Hoping that he believes you and that he will start to accept that as fact. Because it is. “Even if you’re being annoying.”

The bottle crinkles as he smiles, and there’s a soft kiss to your lips that has no real desire behind it. Just a nice peck that sends you careening down a hill of flowers. “You won’t be feeling that way tomorrow, babe.”

“And why is that?”

“Cus of what I’m wearing.”

And he says that while half-naked? Like any look on him could get any worse. “Oh,” you scoff out, fully calling his bluff. “As if.”

Well, fuck. You don’t enjoy the smirk plastered on his face. It has you both dreading and excited for whatever demon you’re gonna run into tomorrow. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shrugs as he starts to hand the water back. “We can go soon, by the way.”

“Okay.”

But before you can grab it, Yoongi pulls the bottle from reach. “Unless,” he teases. “You wanna play me.”

“What.”

His grin shines, face glistening and turning your insides to jelly. “You told me you’d win, so. Let’s see it.”

You said that? While sober? How does he remember something like that when you can’t even recall a time or place you’d tell him something so bold. “When!”

“Right after you woke up once. Said you’re a master?”

Oh. That was ages ago. Fuck, you already forgot how did Yoongi remember?

“Oh. Well.” Your nose turns up in feigned haughtiness. “Wouldn’t wanna throw you off your game before a championship.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’d make you cry what the fuck!”

Water spills down your head in rivulets as you freeze, stunned and watching Yoongi jogging his laughs back to the bleachers like a punk. “Think you got something on your face, doll.”

“Yoongi!” What the hell possessed him to do that to you here? Racing after him with purpose, you slam into him just as he reaches for another bottle, shoving a laugh out of his throat and making him catch himself on hardwood. “Nu uh, gimme that!”

“It’s mine, I just ran out—”

“Bitch!” You lunge for another bottle lying further away, distancing yourself to quickly rip the cap off and to avoid feeling his slick back on your hands.

And it’s a lawless gym as both of you start spraying water, arcs and splashes of bottled liquid spewing over the court and soaking into your clothes and his bare skin. Which proves to get worse and worse for your wellbeing the more he gets soaked in your attacks.

Running ends up being the only option to avoid getting completely drenched, and you hightail it behind bleachers before your waist is grabbed. “Fuck!”

“Uh huh.”

You try to wrestle out of his hold, his wet forearm digging lovely into your stomach, and you’re temporarily let go just so Yoongi can spin you around.

Your back connects with solid wall, the impact shooting a grunt out of your throat before you laugh out of pure disbelief. “I can’t believe, you got me to do that,” you rush out, sentence punctuated by your breaths more than anything else.

Here you are. Under bleachers. With Yoongi’s skin caging you with radiating heat.

You can only stare as he drinks you in, no doubt looking at his silver around your neck and your chest heaving from exertion. Butterflies float across your stomach when his smile drips, and you fold as soon as he swoops in.

Everything in your being pulses hard. It’s so visceral that you teeter on the edge of sanity and logic, and the thoughts slipping through your mind are just as wild as you feel. Before you’re even aware of it, a mischievous finger slides along the hem of his shorts, and you jump at the downright boulders rolling down your front,

“Careful, doll.”

“Hmm?” You feel bad. And it feels fantastic. “What was that?”

More gravel slides down his tongue, and you shake at his attractive as fuck threat, “Fuck around and find out then.”

Your giggles add feather lightness into his murky laughs, but you’re so preoccupied that you don’t notice his hand between your legs until he slaps the inside of your thigh. “Yoo—!”

“Unless.” He leans forward. “My baby’s too scared.”

Holy fuck, you might be. Is he really willing to do something with you? In a public place very similar to where you’re gonna watch him play tomorrow? You don’t know why the fuck that’s attractive as hell, but it is.

Yoongi grips your chin, eyes falling to your lips and brows knitted before claiming your lips even harder. And despite your bones vibrating to hell, you put your all into the kiss, relishing in the growing hardness you feel against your front. An animal starts to wake inside your core, and you almost feel like stroking it. Feeding it. Raising it only for it to consume you in return.

“Fuck it, we’re leaving.”

“Huh?” Dazed, you let your vision refocus as Yoongi chuckles at your hazy state.

“Fuck this. I’m taking you home.”

For some reason, the game makes you nervous today. Even while Taehyung strides into the gymnasium with you, there’s a lingering feeling swelling in your stomach, and you don’t have any reason for it yet.

At least this is another rec center entirely. Because there’s no way you would’ve sat still knowing you had a clandestine meeting in the same place not even twenty-four hours before.

But the activity already bustling around hardwood catches your attention. Not on both sides, since only one team is here, but they are active on the other end doing drills.

Wow. They look really intimidating, matching jerseys that were clearly done professionally and warm-ups having a set routine. You wonder if this is gonna be a tough game for… Wait. That’s your brother under the basket. That’s them?

Fucking hell, Yoongi was right.

Because you’ll already never get over how attractive he looks in athletic clothes.

But team jerseys?

Seeing this man rock a basketball uniform with his toned arms and legs so visible makes you want to claw your way out of your invisible cage.

When the hell did they even get those? And why is he already slightly drenched during the warm-up alone?

As soon as you see him make a lay-up, you know for a fact that you shouldn’t be here.

Yes, you’re gonna stay and yes, you’re gonna cheer for them all game. But you are absolutely gonna feel like jumping him, which will in turn make you wanna bolt and run all the way out of town every agonizing second.

Shit, shit, shit. You’re gonna have to try your damned hardest to unstick your eyes from that man the whole time. Already, you can hear Taehyung’s teasing, and your groan is to lament your future state.

Your name suddenly rings across the gym, and four feet pause in your ascent up the bleachers. When you catch both him and Jimin waving you down from their courtside chairs, you tilt your head in intrigue.

They want you to come over there? What the hell is this about?

Sighing, you turn. “Guess I’ll go see what they want.”

“Here,” Tae offers his hand. “I’ll save you a seat.”

Your bag is transferred to his grip while you nod, and you step down onto the court, wondering if you’re even allowed to walk onto it to see them. And Jimin’s grin can be seen from miles away. “Come here!”

You gingerly step onto shiny wooden floors, making your way over and becoming hyper aware that someone else notices your presence. But you’re so puzzled as to why there’s no one on the other side of the court yet because isn’t the game about to start?

Where’s the other team? As you approach their row of chairs, your hands immediately find your hips. “What’s up?”

Jimin’s eyes stay creased as your brother explains the reason he waved you down. A very stupid, very innocuous reason. “Can you keep score?”

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why me?”

Your brother uses his jersey to wipe sweat from his brow, and you wince at the brand new material getting gross already. “The girl that usually does it for us is sick.”

“And you know the game,” Jimin quickly tacks on, rubbing at some tattoos on full display. Wait, are there more than you remember? When did he get more ink?

Your sibling asks another question you had in mind, “You aren’t gonna cover those?”

“Nah. Not today,” the man elongates in a stretch. “Just got another one. This one!”

Ah, you were right. “I like it.”

Jimin couldn’t look more proud. But enough of that because you really just wanna go back and observe the game from another place entirely. “Can’t y’all find someone else to keep score?”

“We don’t think anyone else can,” your brother explains, looking over your shoulder. “At least, not the people coming to watch us.”

Cool. You get to be met with heat and sweat from all these guys without compensation. How is this something you would say yes to? “Well. I don’t really feel like being a scorekeeper for free.”

When your sibling laughs with Jimin, they share a look before he says so matter-of-factly, “Told you.”

You’re sticking with that. If you’re gonna sit next to a bunch of smelly people, they’re gonna pay… you… somehow.

A ways down the row, you catch Yoongi dumping himself onto a random chair, head tilted back before he hangs it forward to wipe sweat from his forehead.

And suddenly this temporary gig doesn’t seem terrible in the slightest.

Because one, you can sit on a team bench that will have his fine ass right there. And two, this will give you a way to objectively focus on the game. You won’t have time to be distracted by a demon and his hair that’s gotten criminally long.

“I’ll get us all dinner,” your sibling slices through your thoughts. “After we win.”

“Fine,” you sigh, taking the end seat and shooting one more glance to the other side of the court. “Then I get to p—”

The air around you squeezes inward. And all sounds plunge underwater.

Because you recognize someone you knew from a dark club walking onto the court, his team looking just as sharp and cocky as his eyes.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You don’t notice the way Jimin’s hands flex, nor the way a familiar presence walks up to join your brother.

All you can do is stare back.

And without even realizing.

You’re already rubbing your arm.

tbc. :((

a ha ha... so how do we feel? | taglist | discord!

a/n: okay, hello, loves. apologies this part took so damn long to post! can you imagine if i tried to post everything at once LMAOO yikes talk about too much at once. but i hope this part was enough to still be good on its own, and broken, pt. 2 will be... well. you can probably guess that's where a majority of my brainpower is going to go. a/n 2: thank you all for being here! it's been an amazing two years working on this series and i cannot tell you how grateful and appreciative i am to have such wonderful people alongside me. i hope this series continues to be there for you when you need it, bc it has become that for me, too. ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

#ITS FINALLY HEREEE #SHEESH #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts reactions #filter for fics:#*ryenfictalk #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #three tangerines #3tan11 #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #btsfic #*latest #ryenwrites

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honestlydarkprincess · 6 months

Text

settle

buck & chimney || rated: g || wc: 702 || read on ao3

A week after he’d been there to tell Maddie, Buck found himself once again at the Buckley-Han residence. Although he knew that she wouldn’t, a part of him hoped that Maddie would have told Chimney so he didn’t have to. But alas, here he was. Buck had already come out to three people so he was feeling a lot more sure of himself. He had however taken the bisexual pride pin Hen had given him and put it in his pocket for good luck. He felt around for it and turned it over with his fingers while he waited for Maddie or Chimney to answer the door.

Chimney swung the door open, a wide smile on his face. “Buckaroo! Just in time, you can settle this argument for me.”

“Oh, um, if you’re having an argument I’ll come back later,” Buck said, putting his hands up. “I don’t want to get in the middle of anything.”

“Not a real argument,” Maddie called from inside the house. “Chim’s just being ridiculous.”

Chimney scoffed, stuffing a gummy worm into his mouth and making Buck realize that he had a handful of them. “Come on in, Buck, we were just having a little movie night until your sister started spouting nonsense.”

Buck stepped into the house, his shoulders relaxing at the sound of Maddie’s laughter. It never failed to soothe him, knowing his big sister was there and that she was happy. “Where’s Jee?”

“She’s with Mrs. Lee for the night, she wanted some grandma time,” Maddie replied, patting the seat next to her on the couch. “Come sit. What’s up?”

Buck took a seat next to her and Chimney sat down on the armchair, munching on his gummy worms. “I, uh, came to talk to Chim,” Buck said, giving Maddie a meaningful look. Understanding dawned on her and she glanced at Chim who was looking at Buck with open curiosity.

“What’s up, Buck?” Chimney asked. “Why do you look so nervous?”

“Uh, well, you see— wait, you said you were having an argument?” Buck stalled.

“Yeah!” Chimney exclaimed, letting himself get distracted. “Maddie said that Henry Cavill isn’t attractive! I said that everyone thinks he’s attractive. You’re the deciding vote.”

Buck snorted. “Of course he’s attractive, I don’t have to be bi to know that.” He flushed when he realized what he’d said. “Uh, I mean— well actually, that’s kind of what I came to tell you, Chim.”

Chimney’s brows drew together. “That you find Henry Cavill attractive? Not that I’m not happy to see you man, but that could have been a text.”

“N-no,” Buck shook his head, biting his lip. “That I’m— I’m bi.”

“Oh,” Chimney looked surprised.

“When you said I made you my basketball beard, you weren’t exactly wrong,” Buck rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I, uh, yeah.”

Chimney grinned. “I knew I was a beard,” He crowed. “It’s not the first time I’ve been one, you get a sense about these things. Anyway, good for you, Buckaroo. Who’s the lucky man?”

“Uh, well, Tommy actually,” Buck flushed a brighter pink, a small smile playing on his lips. “He kissed me and we went out on a date. We’re, uh, taking things slow.”

“Oh, I’m surprised it’s not Ed—” Chimney was cut off from saying anything else when Maddie cleared her throat loudly. He looked at her and she shook her head slightly. Chimney pasted a bright smile on his face. “I’m happy for you, Buck. Congratulations.”

Buck gave them a confused look, but ultimately decided not to question it. He wasn’t sure he was ready to hear the answer. “Thank you,” He said, ducking his head. “I should get going. I’ll leave you two to your movie night.”

The three of them stood up and Maddie gave him a huge hug before passing him off to Chimney who hugged him just as tightly. “I’m proud of you, brother. Thank you for telling me,” Chimney said softly.

Buck’s breathing hitched and he squeezed Chim back. They pulled apart and Buck gave them both a happy nod before he headed out, humming a cheerful tune under his breath. That had gone well.

Now he just had to tell Eddie.

#the coming out series #jess.fics #jess.writes #my writing #my fics #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #chimney han #howard chimney han #maddie buckley #911 #911 abc #911 on abc #911 fic #911 abc fic #ficlet #bi buck #bisexual buck

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dazedandconfused-15 · 29 days

Text

Heaven's in your eyes (Part 4)

From the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who took the time to comment and reblog this story, I'm really glad you're sticking with me on this journey!!

If you're enjoying it, a reblog would mean a lot to me and really helps get this fanfic out there! 🫶

Enjoy...

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 1 Part 2, and Part 3

@tatumrileyslover @littlenosoul @nocturnest @the-freak-cassie-313 @rainy-darling @nina-from-317

From then on, you become much more observant. Billy and you meet up after school to do homework, go for walks, grab some food or just hang out. You start noticing small details, like how sometimes his shirt is buttoned up a bit higher than usual, even in warm weather. Occasionally, you catch sight of a bruise on his skin. You refrain from bombarding him with questions, but it's challenging to stay silent when the wounds are obvious. Thankfully, it's never as severe as that night he showed up battered. You quickly understand that this topic is off-limits for him, so you let it go, hoping that someday, he'll feel comfortable enough to open up to you.

For the first time in what feels like ages, happiness seeps into your days. Suddenly, the world seems brighter, nights feel less daunting, and even the mundane surroundings regain a hint of color. But deep down, you know this fragile balance won't last.

And just like that, everything shifts during a Wednesday afternoon gym class. You're deep into a basketball game. A teammate passes you the ball, and with quick reflexes, you snatch it and charge towards the basket. It all happens in a blur, catching you off guard, until a sharp pang shoots through your knees as they collide with the unforgiving, polished wood of the gym floor. Your heart races as you instinctively extend your arms, just in time to protect your face from the impact. Amid the chaos, the coach's whistle cuts through the noise, and through the fog of pain, a pair of trainers come into focus right before your eyes.

“What happened?”

“She tripped, Coach,” says the voice belonging to the person in those shoes. Your gaze shifts upward, meeting the mocking eyes of Tina Williams. She stands with one hand on her hip, casually chewing her gum. A moment later, she steps aside as the coach kneels in front of you.

The contrast is stark—where there was once the commotion of squeaking shoes and shouts, there's now a hushed stillness. Half the class has gathered around, watching in silence.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere?" the coach asks you, resting his hand on your arm.

deliberately tripped you, sending you crashing to the floor. The pain in your knees isn't unbearable, but your skin is clearly scraped. The sting from where they hit the ground and slid across the floor is still sharp.

"Oh man, we need to disinfect these," the coach remarks, examining your peeling, reddened knees where raw flesh is visible. "I'm taking you to the nurse's office."

"No, no. It's fine." you say, your voice slightly shaky as he helps you to your feet. "It's not that bad."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah," you murmur, catching the faint snickers of Vicky Muller and Carol Perkins as they whisper to Tina, their voices low but filled with amusement.

The coach makes you sit on the benches for the rest of the hour. As the game continues, you become a spectator in every sense—watching the game and the entire situation unfold, feeling completely disconnected from your own body. Your mind drifts, detaching from everything around you. You’re certain Tina tripped you on purpose, but the reason eludes you. Anxiety gnaws at you, leaving a pit in your stomach. When the game finally ends, you follow your classmates into the locker room, keeping your eyes downcast, avoiding any confrontations. All you want is to leave, to escape this uncomfortable situation.

But as you open your locker, you hear footsteps approaching behind you. Reluctantly, you turn, only to find yourself face-to-face with Tina. Vicky stands beside her, arms crossed, with an expression that clearly shows she's anticipating some entertainment, barely able to contain her laughter.

Tina nods toward your knees. “How are your knees?”

You want to snap back, to demand what her problem is, but instead, you choose the path of least resistance. Maybe if you play along, this will all blow over.

“It’s nothing serious. It’ll pass,” you say, forcing a small smile before turning back to your locker.

Tina snorts, and there’s a brief, tense silence. “What’s your deal with Billy?”

Your hand freezes in mid-motion as everything suddenly clicks into place. Slowly, you turn back to her, realizing there’s no avoiding this conversation.

You decide to play dumb. “What do you mean?”

“Did I stutter?”

You swallow, taking in her mocking expression. The locker room falls silent as your classmates stop what they’re doing to watch the scene unfold. In the background, Carol wears a wicked smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I barely know him,” you say, trying to diffuse the situation, not wanting any trouble.

You know that Billy had gone out with Tina a few times not too long ago. It was supposedly nothing serious and ended as quickly as it began. Rumor has it that after they’d hooked up in his Camaro, he drove her home and never called her again.

“Please. You think we’re dumb?” Vicky chimes in. “We’ve seen you hanging with him.”

“I…”

“Listen, honey,” Tina cuts you off, unfolding her arms and stepping toward you. Her tone is anything but sweet, almost aggressive. “I don’t care what the hell you’re up to. But stop it.”

“Wha…”

“You really think he’d be interested in someone like you? Take a good look at yourself,” she sneers, her gaze sweeping over you, making you instantly self-conscious. “Make sure you’re not carrying fleas before you get near guys like Billy. God knows what’s lurking in that cesspool you call home.”

“Or STDs,” Carol chimes in with a smirk. “Like mother, like daughter.”

The comment hits you like a punch to the gut, the pain in your knees forgotten as a deeper ache settles in. The room is filled with your classmates, yet you’ve never felt so alone. Some stand in silent shock, others hold back amused grins, enjoying the spectacle.

“So yeah, stay away from him. Got it?” Tina snaps her bubble gum, her eyes daring you to respond.

They don’t wait for an answer, turning away and leaving you frozen in place. As you open your locker and reach for your clothes, you realize with a sinking feeling that they’re soaked. Water drips onto the floor, soaking your sneakers, and panic rises in your chest. You quickly grab your backpack, hoping it’s unharmed, but find it just as wet, the contents inside ruined.

Murmurs and giggles fill the room as Tina’s voice drifts over again, soft but cutting. “Sorry about that. Maybe next time you’ll know your place.”

You leave school wearing your damp clothes, shivering as the rain falls down on you. The thought of enduring two more hours of English literature is unbearable. Despite your efforts to dry your clothes and backpack, the dampness clings to you, making the weight of it all feel heavier. The mile-long walk home feels endless as your mind replays the scene in the gym and locker room. You wonder how you could have been so naive, so foolish to think you could find a bit of happiness without something going wrong. The cold air stings your wet cheeks, and you wipe them with the back of your hand, your eyes fixed on the ground. Your knees burn, but nothing compares to the deep, burning shame inside you.

When you finally reach home, you’re grateful your father is still at work, sparing you from having to explain why you’re home early or why you look so miserable. You retreat to the shower, letting the hot water pour over you until the steam is so thick you can’t even see the tiles. Later, you curl up on the couch under a blanket, staring blankly at the TV, your mind far away. The phone rings, breaking the silence, but you don’t have the energy to answer it. Whoever is calling is persistent, though, and the ringing continues.

Taking a deep breath, you finally pick up the receiver, trying to keep your voice from sounding hollow.

“Hello?”

“It’s Billy.”

His warm voice is like a balm, soothing your frayed nerves, but it also brings back the harsh memories of the day. The ugly events replay in your mind, and guilt washes over you as you imagine him waiting by his Camaro, only to realize you wouldn’t be showing up.

“I’m sorry. Sorry about that,” you croak, clearing your throat. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“What happened?”

“I’m just under the weather. That’s all. I think I’m getting sick.”

A heavy silence hangs between you as you twist the phone cord around your fingers, the tension in your grip turning your skin white. You can only hear your own breathing, and you hope desperately that he believes you, that he won’t push for more.

“You sure?” he asks after a moment.

“Yes, I promise. I just need to rest.”

“Alright,” he sighs. “See you tomorrow then.”

“Hey, Billy?” you blurt out, stopping yourself before your voice cracks. The knot in your throat tightens as you struggle with the urge to be honest with him. It doesn’t seem fair to lie, knowing this might be one of the last times you hear his voice. “Thanks for calling,” you manage to say once you’re sure your voice won’t break.

“Don’t mention it. Bye, sweetheart.”

You hang up before you can respond, the warmth of his endearment slicing through you, leaving you on the verge of tears. It’s not just him—it’s everything. The whole situation weighs on you. You glance at the picture of you and your mom on the hall shelf, taken when you were just two years old in her arms. Your dad still keeps it, a reminder of the past. Billy has managed to make your life easier, not by making you forget, but by showing you that happiness was still possible. But today, all those old wounds are reopened. The void left by her, and now by him, feels deeper than ever. That’s the risk of letting people into your life—they eventually leave, and all you’re left with is the emptiness they once filled.

You stay home for the next two days. On Friday, it still hasn’t stopped raining. The day drags on endless, each hour feeling like an eternity. You struggle to find the strength to peel yourself out of bed, your stomach tied in knots, rendering breakfast an impossible feat. As rain continues to patter against the window, casting a dreary backdrop, you find yourself lost in a numb trance, gazing blankly at the vivid greenery outside. Only in the afternoon does your hunger finally overpower the turmoil within, prompting you to rustle up a simple cheese toast to appease your growling stomach. Settling in front of the TV, you attempt to distract yourself from the weight of the day's events. By the late afternoon, as your dad arrives home, you force yourself to summon a facade of composure, determined not to burden him with worries. Then the doorbell rings, snapping you out of your trance, and you get up to see who's there.

As you open the door, Billy is standing here, his hands on his leather jacket pockets, his gaze wandering off to the side, but turns to look immediately at you. He’s as pretty as the last time you saw him. His eyes lock with yours, making you weak in the knee.

“Oh. Hey.” you softly say, completely taken off guard by his presence on your front door.

“Hey.”

“Uh, what are you doing here?” you ask, trying your best to not sound rude. You’re just confused.

Billy shrugs. “You didn’t answer when I called. Figured I would come to you instead.”

His response leaves you speechless. You’re struck by his persistence, amazed that he hasn’t grown tired of you, given his tendency to quickly lose interest in people. He says it so casually, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and it stirs something inside you that you can’t quite put into words.

Amusement flicks over his face. “You gonna let me in, or what?”

You excuse yourself by straightening up from your position against the door, opening it wide to let him in. Billy wipes his shoes on the doormat before stepping in. A strange energy seems to be unleashed when your bodies are close to each other. It makes you feel electric. You’ve never believed in those things, but it’s almost like your auras are touching.

You look up at him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you look at each other.

“Sorry, my dad’s here,” you say as you see him look up behind you toward the living room.

Although very subtle, you notice how his body tenses up when your father approaches him and you introduce Billy to him. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Your dad shakes his hand, a warm smile on his face. “Ah, so you must be Billy. She keeps talking about you.”

Billy lets out a nervous chuckle, briefly glancing at you. You find yourself looking at the ground, cheeks flushed. "Hope she said good things."

“All I can say is that you’re good to her, son. Haven’t seen my daughter smiling this often in a long time. She never talks to me about her friends.” he rests his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it softly.

“I’m glad to hear that.” you can feel Billy’s eyes on you, boring a hole through your skin. “She’s good to me too.”

Your dad gestures toward the kitchen. “Have you had dinner yet? We made some roasted chicken tonight, it’s delicious.”

Billy shakes his head. “Thank you, sir, I had dinner earlier.”

“Come have a drink then.” your dad already walks backward to the kitchen. “What can I get you?”

“Dad…” you softly say at his enthusiasm. You never have people over. It’s been a long time since you had them. Not since…well. And you understand your dad lights up as a candle with joy. He’s getting too enthusiastic already.

“You look over eighteen. Beer? Some red wine?”

Billy glances at you, his hand in his pockets, then slowly follows him to the kitchen. He looks like a wary animal taking in his surroundings. “Beer is fine. Thank you, sir.”

You follow behind Billy, feeling suddenly so uneasy in your own house. Your eyes follow his broad back as he enters the kitchen, the air already smelling like leather. Like him.

Your dad, with a casual wave of his hand, says, "Ah, don't bother with all those formalities around me.”

Billy leans against the counter as your dad extends an uncapped bottle of beer, clinking it against his own. You notice how he stiffens slightly again when your dad mentions remembering his last name, knowing his father. His attitude becomes more reserved, and he answers with small sentences. Especially when your dad mentions how despite having talked to him only a few times at Melvald’s downtown and the bank, he looks like a tough guy. However, your dad is easygoing and his attitude warm, and slowly, throughout the conversation, Billy seems to ease up too. His shoulders relax, and a real laugh escapes him a time or two. You knew they shared some interests, but you didn’t expect them to talk about California for so long. Your dad recounts his younger years living in there, how he spent his days surfing and working in a garage for his own dad’s friend to get some money. Billy did the same back there. He tells your dad how you mentioned some of it to him, then how many more people there are since the 60s, how Will Rogers State Beach is now crowded with tourists.

“You’re sure you don’t want anything to eat? Hell, there’s plenty of that chicken and it’s only the two of us.” you dad offers again.

Billy settles the empty beer on the counter. “Oh, I’m fine. Thank you. I was hoping to take her on a ride, to get some fresh air if that’s alright with you.”

Your dad looks at you and you give him a small smile, though you didn’t expect or plan any of it. He nods in approval.

“Sure, kids. Be careful, yeah? It was nice to meet you Billy.”

“Same. Thank you for the beer.”

Your dad winks at him. “Anytime. You’re always welcome.”

At first, silence hangs between the two of you. Billy doesn’t mention it as he drives you toward downtown, and your mind is elsewhere. You’re there physically, but your thoughts are consumed by how wrong it feels to be in the car with him. Your plans to keep your distance have been shattered by his unexpected presence. His decision to come to you makes everything ten times harder. You’re unsure how you’ll find the right words to express yourself without offending him—or worse, hurting him. But then again, maybe you’re overthinking it. Perhaps he doesn’t feel as connected to you as you do to him. Chances are, you’ll be the one left hurting in the end.

Billy casually suggests getting a milkshake at the diner, then lapses back into silence, leaving you unsure whether to thank him or ask him to break the quiet. He doesn’t make it easy. When he parks in front of the diner, he opens the passenger door for you. Physical contact has become second nature between you two—small, almost unconscious gestures, especially on his part. But they always send your heart racing. This time, as he touches your back, gently guiding you inside while holding the diner door open, your heartbeat spikes dangerously.

You usually have a sweet tooth, and the milkshakes at Starlight Grill are delicious, but today, your thoughts have robbed you of your appetite. Billy insists you get something, and when you hesitate, he suggests sharing a milkshake.

When the waitress brings the milkshake along with the bill, Billy takes the first sip. You reach into your pocket for some coins.

“What are you doing?”

“Just, paying.” You murmur absent-mindedly, counting the coins. Billy's hand appears in front of you, putting them aside.

“Put that away.”

You sigh, meeting his gaze. "Billy."

He casually slides the milkshake in front of you, his half-lidded eyes locked on yours, completely unfazed by your feeble attempts to resist. The purple lights of the diner cast a soft glow, highlighting his features and making his mustache stand out more than usual. You can't help but marvel at how effortlessly handsome he always looks. Meanwhile, you feel out of place in your loose jumper, with no makeup and your hair barely combed.

You notice that there is only one straw in the milkshake. “Oh, they didn’t bring another one.”

“It’s fine. Drink it,” his features shifting to an amused look. “Unless it grosses you out.”

“No, no! Of course not.” you hastily assure him before bringing the straw to your lips. The rich taste of chocolate floods your senses with a pleasant sensation, despite your lack of hunger. You resist the temptation to indulge in a bit of the whipped cream from the top of the milkshake.

“Feel better today?” he asks as he watches you, leaning back against the bench.

“Uh, yes. A bit better.” you lie, your eyes on the table. You’re unable to look at him.

You instinctively tighten your grip on the cold glass of the milkshake, startled by the sudden warmth of his palm on your forehead.

“Yeah. No fever, anyway,” he says.

“How did you do on the test yesterday?” you ask instead, eager to change the topic.

Billy leans forward, resting his elbows on the table as he brings the milkshake closer to himself, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Eh, not bad. I think I passed," he replies before taking a sip from the straw. “Jesus, this shit is sweet as hell.” he mutters, peering down at the milkshake as if it personally wronged him.

You let out a soft laugh at his expression. When you sat down, he asked you what flavor you liked and ordered it without hesitation. You realize with a pang of guilt that you hadn't even bothered to ask him if he liked it.

“Sorry… too much?”

“Nah, it’s fine. Just a bit sweet.” he pushes the milkshake toward you, your fingers brushing each other as you take the glass. “I’m more of a savory type of guy.”

"Oh," you sheepishly respond, brushing your thumb against the cold glass to clear away some moisture. “I’m more of a sweet type of girl.”

"You are," he says, his voice carrying a subtle warmth that catches your attention.

You lift your gaze toward him, struck by the underlying tone in his words. Billy dips his pinky in the whipped cream and brings it to his mouth. Red lips suck around the skin, his tongue licking the whipped cream away. You take a sip of the milkshake to distract yourself from the stirring movement in your lower belly.

“So what’s your favorite?” he then casually asks, as if he didn’t just do the most provocative thing ever.

“My what?” you ask as if coming back to reality.

“Your favorite dessert.”

“Oh uhm, I guess my mom’s tiramisu,” you stop to think about all the summers spent eating your mom’s tiramisu in the back of your house in the garden, the happy memory becoming bittersweet. “I didn’t like it when I was younger, I used to make all of those faces when I tasted the coffee.” Billy snorts a soft laugh as he looks at you. “She used to make it all the time when it was warm outside.” you say as you play with the straw.”

“You know how to make it?”

“Yes. She taught me.”

“You’ll have to make me one, someday.”

You meet his eyes, still intently on you, and you lower your gaze while stretching your lips into a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. How you wish there was a chance to do this.

“What’s yours?” you ask instead, ignoring how your heart is aching.

Billy hums thoughtfully, dragging the milkshake toward him. “I’d say the tacos from the Mexican joint in Mission Beach. Hands down.”

“What do they put in them?”

Billy sucks on the straw before setting the glass aside. “Okay, so picture this,” he leans his elbows on the table. “They have this way of cooking the beef, it’s tender and juicy ‘cause they dip it in the stew, and it’s seasoned just right."

A smile slowly spreads on your face without you realizing it as he gets enthusiastic about it.

“Then they sprinkle some lime on it.” he mimics the sprinkling, his eyes squinting a tiny bit. "And then there's the crunch of the shell, just crispy enough to contrast with the beef. Then they top it with cheese and jalapeños. Man,” you giggle as he lightly slaps his palm on the table. He turns his head to the side, momentarily lost in thought as he contemplates. “It’s something else.”

“It sounds delicious.” you nod, a laugh escaping your lips.

As Billy looks back at you, his face is closer to yours as you leaned on the table too. His blue eyes bore into yours. “It’s five-star type of food, babe. Unmatched.”

His voice is warm like dripping honey and your stomach flips, his half-lidded gaze trapping you there is both charming and dangerous. You’re scared of the things your body is feeling.

“I wish I could try it.”

“You will. Told you I would take you there.”

He scans your face, catching each of your reactions from up close as your breath hitches in your throat. “I thought you were joking.”

“I never was.”

You wonder what would happen if you just listened to your instincts right now. If only he lifted the sleeves of your sweater, he’d see the goosebumps on your arms. If he could press his ear to your chest, he’d hear your heart racing. But following your instincts feels too risky. A little voice inside reminds you that all this chemistry between you two might just be in your head. You're building castles in the air; your deluded heart is playing tricks on you. Tina’s voice chimes in too: “What would a guy like him want with someone like you?” So, you pull away, and as you do, your heartbeat slows down a little.

You clear your voice, grabbing the milkshake. “Anyway, I better get home soon. It’s almost ten.”

With only a little milkshake left, you finish it without meeting his gaze, deciding to switch the topic to how you caught up with homework while staying at home. He doesn’t comment on it, biting into it and telling you about the history test on that Wednesday.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” he asks you once on the drive home.

He lowers the volume of the radio, Eagles’ ‘Take it Easy’ reduced to background noise. You hesitate. You don’t know how to tell him. You’ve never been good at cutting ties with people. You’ve never been ready. You never will be.

“I’m just not in a good place right now.”

"Yeah, I gathered that much," Billy responds, his voice low and steady. "But what's got you feeling this way?"

You figure that the best way is to be straightforward, though.

“I know this might sound weird," you begin, already feeling a pang of regret for how you're about to phrase it. Your nails press into the palm of your hands as you twist them together, your eyes locked on the shifting scenery outside. “You’ll probably don’t understand it. But I think we have to stop seeing each other. Hanging around together.”

At first, your words hang heavy in the air, met only with silence that feels like a weight on your chest. You can't help but replay what you just said in your mind, wondering if you came off too harshly. It's a familiar feeling, the aftermath of saying something you can't take back, and in this moment, it feels far too aggressive.

As you battle with yourself, searching desperately for the right words to soften the blow, you find that every script you rehearsed in your head falls short. Billy's silence only adds to your internal turmoil, leaving you mentally slapping yourself for the brutal way you phrased it.

Billy licks his lips. “If I did something wrong,” he starts.

“No, it’s not that.”

“...Or if I made you feel uncomfortable, you gotta tell me.”

“No. Billy, please don’t think that. You haven’t done anything wrong.” you interject quickly, reaching out to touch his arm in reassurance.

He glances at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road, his expression unreadable. The tension in the car is palpable as he waits for you to explain further.

“I just…” you begin, running a hand through your hair in a nervous gesture. “I don’t think it’s good for you to be around me."

"Huh," he responds, his tone indicating he finds your reasoning perplexing. "What does that mean?"

You begin cautiously, choosing your words carefully, "I'm just not... I'm not exactly the embodiment of happiness, you know? And I don't want to bring you down with me."

"You think you're gonna bring me down?"

You nod slowly, unable to meet his gaze. "I just don't want to drag you into my mess," you admit quietly. “I have a lot to deal with myself. Please believe me when I say that it’s not a good idea.”

"That's it? That's why you think we should stop hanging out?" Billy's voice carries a blend of disbelief and skepticism as if he's attempting to peel back the layers of your explanation.

His response catches you off guard. Shouldn't your reason suffice? After all, it's what led to the end of friendships with Nancy and Claire. They understood and let you go. And deep down, you understand that too.

“No, it’s not just that…” you feel increasingly frustrated with the situation, it feels harder than you anticipated.

"Hey, if I'm not your cup of tea, or if I'm making you feel awkward, just say the word. No hard feelings. We can't all be everyone's favorite flavor. But let's keep it real, yeah?"

"No, it's not that at all, Billy!" you blurt out, your voice rising slightly with surprise. "I like you. I really do," you continue, your voice softening as shyness creeps in at the urgency of your confession. As you speak, Billy pulls the car to a stop in front of your place. "More than anyone else in this whole town."

Billy doesn’t talk for what seems like an eternity. You don’t dare to look at him. After almost a minute, he finally breaks the silence. “Okay, what is it, then?”

“It’s just…wrong.”

“Wrong?” he says. “Look, it’s not like I have a girlfriend and I’m ditching her to hang out with you or something.”

“Well, Tina doesn’t seem to be on the same page,” you mumble to yourself out of instinct.

Billy frowns. “What?”

That’s when you realize you talked out loud. You sigh, looking out of the window. You really hoped to avoid this conversation. It just feels wrong to use a lame excuse. You don’t wanna do that. It’s not working, anyway. You figure the best way to put it without having to unravel the whole thing.

“I don’t know what you guys are to each other-…”

“I fucked her once. That’s it.”

You wince at his words, carrying on. “...but she made pretty clear that I should stay away from you.”

At first you’re met with silence, but then Billy's reaction is a mix of disbelief and irritation. He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “She's nuts," he mutters, his tone laced with frustration. "Can't believe her. Jesus."

As you fidget with your hands in your lap, a sense of resignation washes over you. That doesn’t change things. You made up your mind already. They succeeded pretty well in making you see things for what they are. In a very sadistic way, that’s for sure. It is the reality nonetheless.

“Listen, don’t pay attention to her.”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “It’s kinda hard, she’s really committed to making my life a living hell.”

Billy's expression shifts, his gaze now fixed on you with newfound seriousness. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, just…” you sigh. “It’s just what I said. Bottom line is, I’m not good for you, Billy. I’m messed up and I can’t give anything good. You should be spending time with people who are stable, who have something to offer.”

Billy turns his attention back to the trailer ahead. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he pieces together the puzzle. Before you can prepare yourself, he's already connecting the dots.

He scratches his chin, then looks back at you. “Does it have to do with you ditching school for the past days?” his tone calm but unwavering.

Your answer is instinctive and almost too immediate. "No, that's..." you start, but Billy cuts you off with a knowing look.

“Don't lie to me.”

You know if there’s one thing he doesn’t like, it’s when people lie to him. He told you that before. There is no way out of this. If anything surprises you about Billy, it’s his emotional intelligence. His ability to understand what you feel just like that. How he easily and often picks up what’s on your mind. You explain everything that happened to him, noticing how his face hardens progressively as you recount the events that have weighed heavily on you. From that moment Tina deliberately tripped you up in gym class, sending you sprawling to the ground in front of everyone, to the tense confrontation in the locker room. You feel drained after talking, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air.

“Fuck those bitches.” he growls, his voice thick with anger.

“They’re right though. We really are different.”

“Different in what? I’m a guy, you’re a girl. But then?”

“It’s not about that,” you mumble, your eyes fixed on the window.

“Well, tell you what, I like spending time with you. That’s all I know,” you turn in surprise at how bluntly he said those words. “Did we ever argue or anything?”

You think back on all the times you've spent together. Whenever you were with him, it felt like everything else faded away, and it was just the two of you against the world. There was never any arguing or discord between you; instead, he had a knack for making you forget about any troubles or worries you had. Being with him was like finding a safe haven, a place where you could just be yourself and feel at peace.

“No,” you admit, feeling a knot form in your throat.

“Do you feel any different when it’s just you and me?”

“No.”

“Are you ever bored when we hang out?”

“No, never.” you breathe out, shaking your head.

“Me neither. So it’s sorted.”

“Billy, I’m…I’m complicated. My life is complicated.”

He shrugs, shifting in his seat. “I like complicated.”

Billy's stubbornness despite the doors you're trying to close between you is overwhelming both in the best and worst way.

“I just don't think you really know what you're doing," you protest weakly, unable to shake the nagging doubts that linger in the back of your mind.

“Pretty sure I do.”

“Billy,” heat rises in your cheeks as shame gnaws at your insides, your heart weighing heavy. It's hard for you to acknowledge it, let alone put it into words. “Look at me,” you point at yourself, your throat burning.

Billy's eyes scan your face, a hint of amusement dancing in his features. “I am.”

You shake your head, your throat feels ready to burst from how much it hurts. “No. Look at you, then look at me. Look at this,” you gesture toward the darkened trailer.

“You serious?”

“I am. Trust me, you don’t want to…”

“Hey, hey. Sweetheart. Come on, now. Look at me.”

You realize Billy has leaned over the console as he gently grasps your chin. “I don’t care. All I know is that I like you, alright? I don’t give a shit about the rest.”

His words cut through you, threatening to shatter the fragile barrier holding your emotions at bay. His thumb delicately traces the curve of your chin as his piercing blue eyes search yours. Frozen in place, you dare not move or speak, afraid that the slightest exhale might betray the storm of emotions raging within you.

“You hear me?” he drops his head slightly, as he softly shakes your chin to get your attention, his eyes finding yours. “I don’t care.”

You content to nod, a tear breaking free and running down your cheek. Billy licks his lips, his face inching closer to yours. “C’mere.”

He leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that feels as ancient as time itself, as though you've shared this in a thousand other lives. It's tender, lingering, filled with an unspoken longing that resonates deep within you. As you lose yourself in the kiss, his breath dances with yours, and you taste tobacco, mint and something distinctly him on his tongue, sending a wave of euphoria through you. Your hand instinctively rises, fingers curling gently around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, yearning for more. Your heart is beating so fast you swear it’s going to explode. As you break the kiss first in search of oxygen, you’re vaguely aware of his mouth seeking yours, his face tilting forward, his half-open eyes unfocused. His fingers travel on the back of your neck, curling around it and pressing your lips more firmly against his. It’s so good that it doesn’t feel real, your body is the only thing you're aware of. It's ablaze, your heart thundering in your chest, your breath resonating in the car. But he’s here too, he’s real. Real as one can be when you feel his hot skin against your fingers where you’re holding his shirt, as his mustache tickles your mouth, then your cheek, your neck.

He’s certainly real when his voice comes as a muffled and open-mouthed whisper against your skin, buried between your neck and your hair between kisses. “God, baby.”

It’s a soft plead, a gentle need that swells your heart. Your fingers are tangled through his curls at the nape of his neck. They’re as soft as you imagined them. You could’ve never imagined one day your fingers would run through them. His mouth finds yours again, your senses filled with the scent of him and you can’t help yourself and rest your hand on his cheek, wanting to feel him more. Time is not something tangible anymore. You don’t know how long elapses. It may be minutes, it may be hours. You just can’t seem to get enough of each other to finally break apart. Nothing has ever made you feel so good in a long time. That’s why you don’t question your tongue tangling with his, his hand searching for skin as it ventures beneath your jacket and settles on your waist, warm and big.

The loud thud of thunder outside makes you jump slightly on the seat, and with the realization that you must get inside, you slowly but finally break apart from him.

“I have to go.” you manage to say as his lips kiss your cheek and the corner of your eye instead.

His breath fans against your skin, a gentle caress that makes you shiver. Billy's eyes, still glazed with desire, slowly refocus as he registers your words. There's a flicker of disappointment, but he nods in understanding.

“Yeah. Yeah, you better get inside,” he replies in a husky voice, his eyes roaming over your face.

His lips are red and swollen with your kisses, you can’t help but steal another kiss which her eagerly accepts, planting a couple more against your mouth. They’re not as deep but full of meaning, resonating in the air.

“Call me tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yes, I will,” you mumble, your cheek feeling red as you internally wish you could stay with the boy forever.

As you leave the car, the cold rain immediately envelopes you, sending shivers down your spine. The rain soaked through your clothes as you navigated through the darkness. As you reach the door, you steal one last look at Billy's car, watching as he drives away into the night, the memory of his touch still lingering on your lips.

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nishayuro · 11 months

Text

The way I loved you - Bakugo Katsuki

Collection: Spotify playlist song prompts

Genre: Angst, Hurt/No comfort

GN! Reader

A/N:okay so the way I do these is I spin a wheel for songs, for fandom then character. and when the way i loved you came out and MHA got chosen as the fandom I was like, “omg what if bakugo…” and iT WENT TO BAKUGO’S SDFGHJ THIS IS FATE

Synopsis: You’re happy, you’re with the perfect guy, you’re living the ideal romance that everyone dreams of. But why do you still long to be in his arms?

“He says everything I need to hear, and it's like I couldn't ask for anything better”

Perfect. Ideal. Came out of a fairytale. These are all words that people describe when they see you with your partner, and you can’t even deny.

It’s true, he’s charming, intelligent, strong, loving, caring, loyal, and all these other perfect qualities. You feel like you’ve hit the jackpot.

“Love?” a voice calls out, you snap out of your thoughts and look towards the man in front of you, your boyfriend of 2 years. “oh , yeah sorry just got lost in thought” you said, giving him a smile.

“Hmm, penny for your thoughts?” he grinned, holding out a hand towards you. “Just thinking of how perfect you are” you admitted, a smile adoring your face.

“Oh? Well, you, my dear, are more perfect than one could ever hope to be. How’d I get lucky to even pull you? I have no idea, "he teased, linking his arms with yours. “Let’s go, we don’t want to be late for our date” you say, pulling him out the door. “Oh and by the way, you look wonderful tonight” he says, pressing a kiss on your hand.

“And he says, "You look beautiful tonight" And I feel perfectly fine”

The drive to the restaurant was quick, both of you joking to each other on the way. When you got there, he got out of the car to open your side, escorting you out. “Wow, what a gentleman~” you teased. “Only the best for my love,” he replied. You both walk towards the entrance, hand in hand. As he confirmed your reservations with the receptionist, your eyes scanned the place.

Big glass windows lined the walls, giving a wonderful view of the city lights. The ceiling was lined with fancy chandeliers, illuminating the room with a wondrous glow. You're thinking about how well the lighting will be for your pictures later on. A waiter leads you both to a table near the sides, a bit secluded but still gives a great view of the whole room.

He pulls out your chair, sitting you down before he sits down himself. As you ordered your food, you both decided to indulge in conversation, like how your parents are inviting him over for a birthday party, or how your brother was asking him if he’d like to join them in a basketball match next week.

This is the romance you’ve dreamt of since young. This is the life you’ve always wanted. But why, as you move your gaze to the table behind him, do your eyes hold a sense of sorrow and longing?

“But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain, And it's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name”

Your relationship with Katsuki Bakugo was one you’d call imperfect. He was loud, brash, and arrogant. He’d often be late to dates, coming home late at night and leaving early in the morning, and forgetting important dates because of the nature of his job as a hero. As much as you tried to understand him, it was just too much.

You couldn’t live like that anymore, living with uncertainty, living like he’s not even part of your life. Soon, one fight turned into two, two turned into three, and three turned into a screaming fest at 2 am.

“Holy shit, Katsuki! Is it so much to ask for you to make just a bit of time for me?!” you screamed, tears threatening to fall. “Do I look like I can?! Hero work is already stressful enough, I don’t even get an ounce of rest before I’m called back again!” he shouts back, annoyance visible in his voice.

You pace the room, tears running down your face. “Why are we still even in a relationship then?! I can’t live like this anymore, Katsuki! I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t live like you don’t even exist in my life…” you cried, grabbing a jacket and leaving through the front door of his apartment.

“You're so in love that you act insane, And that's the way I loved you”

“Y/N! Wait!” Katsuki shouted, running after you, rain pouring down like it's insulting him. “Y/N, please!” he shouts, catching up to you and encasing you in his arms. “Please, don’t go…” He whispers, eyes looking into yours. And even though Katsuki was loud, brash and arrogant, you still loved him. He was still your Katsuki. So in a moment of weakness, your lips connected with his.

You pulled away to catch your breath, looking him in the eye. As much as you loved the man in front of you, you still can’t see yourself living that life, not even with him.

“I’m sorry, Kats. But I really can’t anymore. I love you, but this is goodbye.” You declared, placing one last kiss on his lips before turning back and walking away. He stared at your retreating figure, his own tears mixing in with the rain, weeping with him for the end of his 3 years with you.

“He can't see the smile I'm faking, And my heart's not breaking”

His bright red eyes caught your (e/c) coloured own. He was… on a date? You looked at the person he was with, and your heart clenched. Why are you feeling this? You’re on a date of your own. “Honey, you good?” your partner asked, concern evident in his face. “I’m fine, just got distracted by the decoration” you lie, you feel guilty. It's been years, and he’s still lingering in your heart.

You tried to ignore Katsuki at the other table, your partner making that a little easier. A waiter comes to your table and places down a dish in front of you, “Oh, we didn’t order dessert yet.” You said, motioning to the dish. “No, I actually did.” Your boyfriend interrupted, a smile on his face.

The waiter opens the lid and you see a cake with a drawing of a ring. Oh fuck. You thought, your boyfriend got down on one knee, a box in hand. Your eyes widen, looking around, you spot those same red eyes, wide as well and staring back at you.

Your boyfriend went on with his proposal speech, while your mind was running a mile a minute. You love him, but you’re conflicted… “Y/N, will you make me the happiest man and marry me?” and there it is, the question.

“And I never knew I could feel that much, And that's the way I loved you”

You looked at him, still in shock. Your eyes drifted to the back, Katsuki was no longer looking at you or the scene, he had his full attention towards his date. And you realized, even if your heart still yearned for him. You will never go back, you can’t go back.

You looked towards your boyfriend, a smile plastered on your face. This was your dream life, you’re living your fantasies. You have what you wanted, even if it wasn’t him.

“Yes, Eijiro… Yes.” You answered.

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#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #my hero academia fic #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo angst #mha x reader #nisha's playlist collection #Spotify

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keekee-23 · 1 year

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Date Night

A Y/N x Damian Priest Fluff Fanfiction

Damian Priest and Y/N had been together for a couple of months now. They were on the hunt for something exciting to do, something that would make their blood pump with excitement. Y/N suggested they visit the carnival in the city nearby, hoping to experience something new and create lasting memories.

The sounds of laughter and music filled the air as they arrived at the carnival. It was bustling with people, and there was an energy around them that was infectious. The two of them roamed around, taking in all of the bright colors from the rides, the smells from the street food stalls, and the happy faces that surrounded them. Y/N grabbed Damian's arm, pulling him along so that they could explore more.

As they walked around, they became more drawn to each other, their arms linked together with each step they took. Eventually, they found a quiet corner away from the bustle of the crowd, where they shared a deep kiss full of passion. Neither of them wanted to end the moment as they were lost in one another's embrace.

Eventually though, they had to part from each other to get back to exploring the carnival. Their first stop was the street food stalls: Damian enjoyed deep-fried Oreos while Y/N devoured her funnel cake. After satisfying their cravings, they decided to try their hand at some of the carnival games.

They found a game stall with a sign that read “Knock down the cans and win a prize!” Damian had always wanted to try this game, and he eagerly handed over some coins to the man running it. He stood several yards away, and after a few tries, he managed to knock down all the cans in one throw. Y/N cheered him on, delighted that he had won the prize.

“What did you get?” she asked excitedly, eager to see what it was.

“A teddy bear!” Damian said, lifting the plush toy up for Y/N to see. She smiled and thanked him for the gift before kissing him on the cheek.

The two of them then proceeded to play other carnival games such as throwing darts, ring toss, basketball hoops, and other various games where they were competitive with each other, laughing and having a lot of fun.

Once they had their fill, they moved on to the rides. Y/N's eyes lit up when she saw the Ferris wheel and grabbed Damian's hand eagerly.

“Oh, let’s go on that one!” she said, pointing at the enormous wheel.

Damian felt his stomach drop as he looked up – heights had never been his forte. Y/N seemed to read his mind and lightly grabbed onto his waist.

"Come on," she said encouragingly, "it'll give us a beautiful view of all the lights, and I'll be with you the whole time. It will be fun, I promise."

Damian looked at her skeptically but couldn't resist her sunny smile. He sighed and nodded. “Alright, I guess we can go on the Ferris wheel.”

Y/N smiled and grabbed his hand, leading him towards the Ferris wheel.

As they waited in line, Damian and Y/N watched the others already on the Ferris wheel, spinning around slowly in their bright blue and green cars. The night sky was a brilliant canvas of twinkling stars, and the glowing lights of the carnival made for a beautiful sight.

Once they were settled into their car and the wheel began to move, Damian held tightly onto Y/N’s hand, trying to focus on the beauty of the night sky, instead of the dizzying heights. Y/N looked over at him, her eyes full of understanding and compassion. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and Damian could feel some of his fear dissipate.

As Damian and Y/N ascended to the peak of the Ferris wheel, he couldn't believe his eyes. He was confronted with a night sky illuminated by billions of stars that glistened like diamonds stretched out against a deep sapphire blanket. The lights from the carnival twinkled in the darkness below them, looking beautiful and inviting.

Damian felt a sense of awe as he took it all in, forgetting for a moment his fear of heights. Then he became aware of the wonderfully warm sensation that was coming from Y/N's small hand intertwined with his, squeezing him affectionately and giving him strength. They looked at each other, eyes aglow with love. He smiled tenderly and said, “I'm so lucky to have you here with me.”

Y/N blushed as a gentle smile lit up her face. "No," she said softly, her voice caressing him like a summer breeze. "I'm the lucky one because I get to share this beautiful moment with you." She leaned in and planted a passionate kiss on his lips.

The Ferris wheel descended, and the two stepped off. Damian had a feeling of lightness and joy in his heart, a feeling that had been a long time coming. As they walked away, they both knew that this carnival had become a special place for them and that the memory of this ride would stay with them forever.

#damian priest #wwe fandom #wwe #archer of infamy #damian priest fanfic #damian priest oneshot #wwe fanfiction #damian priest x reader

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pineappleciders · 1 year

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Can you do sp main 4 with a reader who is trans mtf?? I really like your ftm one and since my sister is trans mtf she would love to read this x

sp main 4 finding out reader is trans mtf

A/N: i am so glad you liked it and i hope your sister likes this too!!!! i know this is really similar to the ftm one mainly because i dont think they'd react too differently! link to ftm vers here

also i wanted to add that i usually write with a fem reader differently than a g/n or masc reader!! mostly because they're like 4th graders and the whole girls vs boys thing. so i'm sorry if they're... colder??? idk how to describe it😭

stan marsh

he's just like "oh" in a surprised voice

doesn't really care but might ask a few,,, personal questions. he's genuinely curious and he doesn't mean harm. asks about what it means and why you transitioned

"how did you find out? like what does it feel like?"

he might encourage you to talk to wendy and the girls if you haven't become friends with them already! he says this because he knows it'd probably be nice for you to hang out with other girls so they can dress you up and help you feel like you fit in

also puts in a good word to wendy for you and u two become friends :)

again you coming out might make him question his own gender. he just gets really confused because he's never had the chance to explore himself and having a trans friend makes him more comfortable to do so!!

might ask you questions at first about how you found out, but other than that he just treats you like how he normally does; probably forgets that you're trans if anything

kyle broflovski

kyle never really hangs out with girls in the first place, the closest girl friends he has being you and sometimes wendy. he is very awkward around girls .

so you don't have to worry about him treating you like more of a bro after you come out, because he doesn't. if he were to treat you any differently he would treat you like more of a girl if anything if that makes sense

like he doesn't mean to exclude you but he figures it'd make you feel better to not be grouped with the boys??

"yeah, i get that. sometimes i feel like i was made to be a tall black man. it's really hard to play basketball as a 4'3" jewish white boy."

mostly, he doesn't really care, and he probably actually would prefer not to hear you talk about it. like i mean he prefers to not hear about 'assigned genders' because it makes him think of genitalia and honestly he does not like to think about that

so yeah, he's a little confused but he tries his best to understand, and he might be appreciative that you opened up about it, but for the most part he's just like "good for you" and moves on

eric cartman

similar to the ftm one, since he's known you as a girl all this time that no matter how hard he wants to misgender you he never truly sees you as anything other than a girl

he'll call you names and tease you for it but at the end of the day he still sees you as a cootie-ridden girl

he kicks you out of games because 'girls can't play games' and the others say you can play and he gets all pissy

he shoos you away at lunch not because you're trans but because you're a girl. he would rather be caught dead than hanging out with a chick. so in a way he's kind of accidentally an ally LOL

he gets uncomfortable when the topic gets brought up and would prefer not to think about it. he genuinely wants to stay out of it because he does NOT want to know what people have down under. absolutely hates thinking about it

"dude, i already live in a hot dog. i don't need to have any more wieners in my face."

kenny mccormick

he looks at you funny all confused.

"mph, nmph? mphph? (wait, what? really?)"

"mmphmph, mph mphph mmf mmphh.. (jesus, dude, i never would've guessed.)"

he's genuinely really confused because all the stereotypes of trans girls he's seen on tv and they all depict them looking super masculine and stuff. he's never really met a trans person so he's confused when you're just some normal kid

he's supportive, but he doesn't really care. he pats you on the back and says cool and then goes back to like. playing mario kart or whatever you guys were doing

he doesn't know anything about what it means so he might ask some questions about what dysphoria is and transitioning and all that. he will listen genuinely but he might fall asleep. he actually does care though!!!

thinks it's interesting but never brings it up again or talks about it and treats you like normal. honestly he would be very happy to play princesses with you as princess kenny

you have sleepovers and he acts all girly. like you do his hair and nails and dress him up and he kicks his feet having the time of his life

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crisalidaseason · 4 months

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Hello!Could you do modern high school au headcanons for Eren,Connie and Sasha x fem reader (platonic please!) who plays basketball and is amazing at it (also pretty popular around school and social media because of it)

Hello! I know, I know it's been a while but I finally did it. Hope you enjoy it. I know nothing of basketball aside from watching Kuroko no basket so I hope nothing sounds stupid.

Eren

I think Eren would also play basketball on his spare time, not really seeking to be a professional, just for fun. He would occasionally join the basketball team during practice time and just play as a way to release stress. That's how the two of you meet and also bond

At first, Eren is a bit afraid of interacting with you. He knows you're popular around school and he had his fair share of rude popular people bothering him or his friends. Eventually, after watching you play and interact with your team, he decides to talk to you.

He is surprised by how friendly you are, happily answering his questions and giving basketball tips. You two immediatly connect and the anxiety over your popularity vanished quickly from his mind. Although he still felt overwhelmed by the amount of people that would stop and talk to you in the hallways.

Now Eren is an adhd mess and you notice it soon. The guy has no attention span and his mind and mouth have no filter in between. You thought he was all mistery and quietness - oh you were so wrong. He is low profile, that's for sure, but Eren is a complete lunatic - in a good sense.

He goes to all your games, that's when Eren is extra LOUD. You can hear him scream above everyone else and it makes you laugh a little.

"DESTROY THEM" "DON'T YOU DARE HAVE MERCY" "MAKE THEM CRY FOR THEIR MAMAS"

He had an inactive instagram account he created in middle school, you made him reactivate it just so you could send him some fun videos or tag him in pictures. He was not surprised by how many followers your account had, you had a lot of charisma on your posts.

Overall a super nice friend. A little loud and random, but loyal and helpful.

Connie

Connie is not really a sports guy, but he usually goes to the sport area of your school to support his athlete friends - jean, mainly. He recognized you immediatly (everyone knew the super talented basketball player). He knows you're a good player from the amount of instagram pictures holding prizes, but he had never seen you play until that moment.

He was mesmerized. How could someone move that fast? He could never do that!

"Yo, that basketball girl is really good huh?"

Since Connie is natural at making friends, it does not take much time for him to finally talk to you. He starts by complimenting your skills, and then the jokes make an appearance. Connie can be funny when he wants to but he enjoys the stupidity of a bad joke or pun.

He doesn't know much about basketball, but he will listen to you rambling about it attentively. He will even try to play with you, but it becomes a little disaster since he has a really bad sense of space. You even film these moments and post it on your close friends - he gives consent and even ideas on what to record to make the video funnier.

He invites you to hangouts, game nights and get togethers. He really is a social guy and an extremely pleasant person to be around. He also gives nice advice and you notice how serious he can be despite the comedic persona. Connie is a hype man! Whenever you show a drop of worry over your basketball games, he is there to cheer you up.

"You worked hard, you got it!"

No matter the result, if you win or not, he is there for you.

Sasha

Sasha is not a basketball girlie, but I know that Mikasa would probably be a part of the team and drag her to watch a few game practices. Sasha notices you right away and greets you as if you were friends already. It is strange, but Sasha is such a cute girl that you wave back at her. After the game, she immediatly goes to compliment Mikasa and then does the same to you.

"Mikasa was right, you're awesome!"

It doesn't take much time for her to interact with you around school and with time you end up bonding with her over other similar tastes. Since she is a food lover, it is very common for her to just randomly share a snack with you or Mikasa whenever she comes to see a practice. You quickly notice that sharing food is her love language.

She doesn't understand a thing about basketball, but she makes such a huge effort to share your passion. You be explaining her an important strategy on lunch break and Sasha is so determined to understant that you want to laugh at her cute face.

She would send you so many cute cat videos and your favorite basketball players edits - you have no idea where she finds them. And she also doesn't shy away when you record a stories with her. The two of you often make videos together of silly trends. She is never camera shy.

Also a hype girl. Whenever she is watching a game, she will have handmade signs with you - and Mikasa's - name on it. Also screams like a mad woman. Her and Eren take the cake at agressive cheering.

#Eren x reader #connie x reader #sasha x reader

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abbyholmes · 6 months

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I needed a couple of hours to sort through my thoughts about 7x04 - because I was busy screaming, crying, kicking my feet giggling - but now I just gotta say, before I dive into any details: I AM SO INCREDIBLY HAPPY.

As a bisexual myself who realized she‘s always been bi at the ripe age of 30 and after already being very married to the very male love of her life (which wasn’t at all changed by the realization), seeing bi characters having their ‚oh‘ moment later in life than in their teens is SO VALIDATING.

I love how yes, there have always been hints and it makes sense for the character but they actually gave Buck the space to find out this new thing about himself. They showed an adult man figuring this important part of his identity out when he was ready for it. Without it being induced by trauma or relationship troubles. That is so so so meaningful and so so so beautiful at the same time. I legit CRIED LIKE A BABY watching Buck‘s face go ‚oh I see‘ after the kiss. He just landed in his body as the penny of truth dropped and he seemed so content it made me squeek. I love seeing our golden retriever carving his place out in the world and discovering how to fully embrace all of himself.

And I love he gets to do it with Tommy.

Yes, I am a buddie shipper and that hasn‘t changed. However, whichever way the show moves now, bi Buck means the world to me. And the way they are telling the story with Tommy in a gentle, realistic way, I hope we get more of that. Hell I even really like their vibe together. Tommy seems like he‘ll be okay holding the hand of a baby queer and help him dip his toe into the water. Wherever that leads, it was a genius decision to introduce him to Buck‘s story.

Now for the details:

This episode wasn‘t only beautiful, it was also hilarious. THE TOP GUN REFERENCE HAD ME HOLLERING. At that point I knew some queerness was gonna happen because you don’t make the queerest reference in movie history without reason. Also absolutely loved the sewer conversation (hooray for Ravi by the way, I missed that little dude) and the emotions Buck goes through during the conversation.

Buck‘s jealousy is as stupid as it is adorable and I have to say I did find Eddie the slightest bit unfair. He knows Buck has abandonment issues and still doesn‘t register that he might need some reassurance. Yes okay, I get he wanted a little payback for the Nathalia ‚she sees me‘ bs, but come on, Eds, cut the poor man some slack.

The acting in the episode? Chef‘s kiss. Oliver was amazing, but I don‘t see Lou getting enough credit. He already planted his visible interest in Buck in 7x03 nicely in that one tiny interaction at the end and he really delivered on the flirty banter in this episode. Oliver, meanwhile, has done such a great job at showing the gradual change in Buck and the nervousness and the curiosity and hopefulness it tugged on all of my heartstrings. Deserving of an Emmy-nom. Great Job, loved every second.

Maddy and Chim very also amazing in the ep, especially Chim clocking immediately why Buck really brought him to basketball. It‘s gonna be interesting to see their reaction to Buck‘s truth - if he‘s ready to share it yet.

The only thing that bugged me was that Athena‘s storyline felt very rushed. I liked the theme and I think it hinted at important conversations, but it resolved the conflict too fast and too easy - making said issues seem smaller than they are. I struggle to believe that they would let a POC kid off the hook that easily. I wish this was realistic, but I doubt it is.

Bachelor call was great, loved gossipy Josh (by god, I want more Josh, I love that goofball) and Chim going full fanboy.

Can‘t wait for next week and hope we get more Hen and Bobby there! I missed them this ep.

I am so excited to see where Buck‘s story arch will go next. I‘ll explode with happiness if it slowly drifts towards buddie, but I won’t be mad if it doesn‘t happen or if it does happen and the show takes its time to get there. A slow buildup for this would be chef‘s kiss and I have a lot of trust in ABC and the writers that this is how they will do it, if Buddie happens.

All in all: Favorite episode of all the series for me, worthy 100th episode, will watch a billion times, made me all warm and fuzzy and giggly.

#911 spoilers #evan buck buckely #bi evan buck buckley #bi evan buckley #buck #911 s7 ep4 #911 tv show #911 on abc #911 abc #buck bothered and bewildered #this is the bi rep I am rooting for #love how much bi rep is currently happening in fiction #if we get something similar for the bi girlies somewhere I‘ll be so happy #we won people we won #canonically bi buck #2024 the year that you are #I spend the majority of the week in hospital and this was just the pick me up I needed #GOD I AM SO NOT NORMAL ABOUT THIS #buddie

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respectthepetty · 1 year

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Question. I have never heard of you’re my sky. And now I have added to my list because of your post. I have found that the Most popular BLs are not normally the Beat BLs according to regular fan base so……. Because I have not heard of this one I am in hopes it’s going to be a good one?? 👀

Anon, please do not trust my recommendations because I have trash taste, but as an American, I tend to like sports-themed stories. Give me a plot about an underdog in the sports world coming up against the big bad rich multiple-time winning team, and I will love the shit out of it! I will eat up media like The Mighty Ducks, Friday Night Lights ("clear eyes, full heart, can't lose"), and One Tree Hill ("I DON'T WANNA BE ANYTHING OTHER THAN WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYNA BE LATELY") because I want to root for the little guy. I didn't watch Creed and Bring It On just for the color coding.

So understand this is a BIG reason I love You're My Sky. At the center of it is a story about a dark horse (or more like a Red Rascal) who not only brings life back into his school's basketball program but also into every single person who gets involved with it. The coach, the players (FLUKE!), and his love interest all get a second shot (pun intended) at fulfilling their dreams.

Oh, and the antagonist? Perfect! People HATED the 11th episode because it had a time jump and flipped the script on our little long shot, but it brought a new layer to our despised coach who had been the enemy for the last ten episodes, AND it made sense why the lead would act the way he did, mostly to people who have played a competitive sport on a level of this nature. It's a different beast, mentally and physically, and changes people.

In addition, people lost. One of the reasons people liked My School President was because of the seriousness of the competition which was the underlying thread throughout the series, but also that the possibility of losing was very real. In You're My Sky, competition is treated the same. The team won't win simply because they want to or the narrative proclaims it. No. The actors look like they can actually play basketball, the strategies make sense, and the fear that loss can and will happen is always present. Not just in basketball, but in track, in soccer, and most importantly, in love.

I haven't even mentioned the love parts! But know that those are good too. We have childhood friends-to-lovers, a younger boy chasing an older one, and pseudo-enemies-to-lovers but one is dating the other's sister. I don't care what anyone says about the leads or the sister's boyfriend plot. They did their jobs and EPISODE SIX SUPREMACY!

The show demonstrates that no man is an island regardless of the endeavor. In order to achieve greatness, we must work with others. People will let us down, but we have to support others in order to receive support, and we need to help the people we love even in their darkest times, especially when they feel unworthy of it.

This series is a top for me, so even though some people disliked it, I hope it makes you "CHEER! CHEER!"

Let me know how you feel once and if you finish.

#you're my sky #you're my sky the series #thorn x fah #vee x dome #ai x san

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hargrovefilms · 2 years

Text

Too soon to lose my baby •B.H•

Eddie was alway quick to start drama between you and Billy in hopes that one day you'd be his.

You were in bed with your lovely boyfriend. You looked at the time and saw that it was seven thirty. You were a little confused on why you were up early but you decided to take advantage of it. You threw on one of Billy’s t-shirts and shorts, the sorts being covered by the t-shirtThere were things that you wanted to get done before Billy woke up. You cleaned the living room and the kitchen. You even organized all of yours and Billy’s vinyls, putting them in alphabetical order in the cases you had for them.

You were just starting on breakfast when you heard the doorbell ring. You walked over to the door and answered it.

“Hello wh-.. Oh it's you, Munson.” You grumbled. This man wouldn’t leave you alone. He was convinced that Billy was a terrible person for you and the only way you'd ever be happy in life was to be with him.

Eddie looked you over and whistled at your outfit. “Is this how you greet everyone that knocks on your door? No wonder why Billy called you that.”

You rolled your eyes. “What are you talking about?” You opened the door a little more and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Oh you mean you didn't hear?” Eddie said sarcastically, “Your little boyfriend has been going around telling everyone that you're a little slut.” He smirked at your expression. Your heart rate started to pick up. You didn’t know why but part of you believed Eddie.

“Where did you hear this from?" You asked softly. You were never good at hiding your emotions and everyone knew it.

“Stevie told me. He heard him say it in the locker room after basketball practice. I’m surprised that you didn’t know or even notice the way people stare at you when you walk down that hall. The whispers of people when you pass them.” He said, stepping closer. It was all making sense now. You semi noticed people staring at you but you just thought it was because you were dating Billy. But, now that you think of it, that doesn’t make sense. You and Billy have been dating for 6 months already. A single tear fell from your eyes.

“Aww don’t cry angel, You should have expected this from him. I mean, he is Billy Hargrove after all.” Eddie was rubbing your shoulder. You felt stupid for believing him but he just sounded so convincing. You were too busy thinking that you didn’t hear Billy walk up behind you.

“What the fuck is going on?” He said in a stern voice. Eddie placed his hand that was rubbing our shoulder back into his pocket. “Why are you here Munson? Don’t you have some nerd club to attend to?” Billy stepped closer to Eddie.

“I was just in the neighborhood and I decided to pay y/n a visit.” Eddie said nervously. He was scared that Billy was going to see you crying and beat the shit of him.

“It’s 8:30. Kind of a weird time to visit someone, no?” Billy questioned him. Eddie was speechless. He nervously laughed and tried to think of an excuse. You let a sob out on accident, catching the attention of both men. Billy looked at Eddie and tightened his jaw.

“Munson.. What did you-” Before Billy could finish, Eddie ran down the street. Billy didn’t have a shirt or shoes on, so there was no way he was going to run after him. Besides, he had something more important to attend to. Billy closed the front door and hugged you.

“What happened baby? Did he hurt you?” Billy has genuine concern in his voice. He hated to see his girl upset, especially when he didn’t know why.

“H-He told m-me Billy.” You choked out between sobs.

“Told you what?” Billy has a hint of annoyance in his voice. You couldn’t tell if it was you or the situation.

“Wh-what yo-you told ev-eryone.” You were uncontrollably crying. The idea that Billy, the man that you loved the most, the one that knew all your secrets, was going around your small town school telling people that you were a slut, hurt you so bad you couldn’t even put it into words. “Why di-did you t-tell people that?” You looked him in his eyes. Billy’s heart sank at the sight of you.

“Baby, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I need more context.” Billy spoke so softly.

“Y-you t-told ev-everyone th-that I was a s-slut! How c-could y-you!” You yelled at him. You were so upset with him. It felt like your whole world was falling apart. Billy was your safe place. He always made you feel safe and at home, and now that was being taken away.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He started off quiet but got louder towards the end of his sentence. He walked away from you, throwing his hand in the air. He went over to the kitchen counter and slammed his fist down and screamed. This makes you flinch and you start to shake. You’ve seen Billy angry but never this angry.

“Why the fuck is he telling you this?” He asked no one. “I swear if I find out that he is going around school telling people this..” Billy was starting to get pissed. He walked back over to your trembling body and hugged you tightly.

“You know me better than this y/n. I would never say anything like that about you at all. Let alone tell Munson.” He said plainly, with anger still in his voice. You were hyperventilating at this point. You were trying to calm yourself down the best you could.

“Hey, princess, you're okay. Breathe with me, oaky’ Billy said as he bent down so you guys were face to face. “1..2..3..” Billy breathed in and you tried your hardest to copy him. He breathed out and onto your face. You both did this a few more times until you were calm.

“I’m sorry” You whisper as Billy hugged you.

“Why are you sorry?” Billy pulled away from the hug and looked at you.

“ For believing him.. He just sounded so .. convincing.” You said even quieter. Billy whipped your tears that were still falling.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. He’s an asshole. He’s in the wrong.” Billy gave your forehead a kiss. “Why don’t we just watch a movie? Let’s try and forget about this for a little bit.” Billy said as he took your hand into his and walked , practically dragging you, into the living room. You sat down on the couch as Billy looked through the movies. “What about this one?” Billy asked, holding up Nightmare on Elm Street. You nodded and he put it in the vhs player. He grabbed the remote and placed it on the table, walking into the bedroom to retrieve the tie- blanket you and him made a few months back. You smiled as you saw him come into the room with it. He plopped down on the couch next to you and you cuddled into his side. Billy smiled and kissed the top of your head. He pressed play and the movie started.

This is how you spent the rest of the day. Relaxing on the couch with Billy, watching stupid movies while Billy thought of a plan on how he was going to get back at Munson.

#billy hargove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #stranger things #eddie stranger things

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johnny-wins · 11 months

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Initial Thoughts on Jojo's Bizarre Adventure part 7

For context as to the kind of JJBA fan I am, my favorite parts are:

What can I say, I like Joseph and dislike the parts that end with a fight the protagonist wins by sheer fiat.

Anyway! Part 7 seems great so far. I've read up to chapter 9, so if you don't want spoilers make sure you're caught up to there. Oh also there will be incidental mentions of details from previous parts but I'll try to keep it light since it seems part 7 is really disconnected from them.

So first I'm gonna give my serious thoughts and then I'm gonna attempt to transition smoothly into dumbass ramblings.

We start this part by getting introduced to a native american named Sandman who has been rejected by his community because he possesses books produced by white men, including the holy bible. His peers are enraged, calling him a traitor to his ancestors. He eventually explains to someone who cares for him that he has learned a superior running technique from the white men, and is going to use it to beat them at their own game and win enough money to buy the land that his community has called home for time out of mind, and therefore make it theirs within the structures of the ideology of those who would otherwise take it from them.

Shortly after, in the next issue, we're introduced to an African American man named Pocoloco who dreams of the easy life. He believes he's going to be unbelievably lucky in the next two months, and that no matter what he does things are going to go his way. Therefore, he's simply watching the clouds and spurning his work. Another African American man laboring in the fields argues this is foolish and shortsighted, that "People like me and your dead father... were freed from slavery 25 years ago. But life hasn't changed one bit. We will never live the easy live."

Even afterer than that, we're introduced to the protagonist of this part, Johnny Joestar. Due to some tragic events in his past, his career as a star horse jockey was ended when his legs were severely injured and he was left unable to walk, needing to use a wheelchair.

Everyone I've mentioned ends up making the decision to join a horse race across america, from the west coast to the east, with a fabulous cash prize. I mention all these people so I can say that this story is positioning itself to engage with the idea of the mythical american frontier: A place where anyone could strike it rich if they had skill (like Johnny), determination (like Soundman), and luck (like Pocoloco).

But very deliberately, the characters we're given to engage with are the kinds of people who were actually exploited or left out of that optimistic vision; Native Americans, African Americans, and handicapped people.

And that's neat! I don't know where it's going yet but just on its own it's a great bit of novelty to focus a story of this nature on people of this nature. Johnny frames this as a story of how he "Started to walk... Not in the physical sense, but in an adolescence to adulthood sort of way." So there's probably gonna be a lot of different arcs going on, but I hope this one about exploited people winning the psuedomeritocratic games their oppressors use to justify their imagined superiority has a good one.

Speaking of games, what the fuck are the rules of this race? They seem to have neglected "You need to be riding a horse," because someone brings a camel and someone else brings their 1890s-ass car.

I mean we do learn that you can't change horses midway through so "horse" has to appear in the rules somewhere, I can't believe they managed to "no rule sayin' a dog can't play basketball" their way into this one.

Also Pocoloco seems to have the kind of luck that makes weird short people fall in love with you if you're Dio, and godbless him for it. If this turns out to be his stand power or the fortune teller's stand power, cool, but honestly it's already established that some people are just born lucky in JJBA (Dio and Kira come to mind) so I don't even need that much.

Ah, also, I gotta wonder if Araki was watching Alien before he thought up this panel:

I mean, it's only the second time I've seen someone attack someone else by stuffing a wadded up periodical into their face.

Final note for this post: It seems the unifying traits of all Dios across the cosmos is that they much be Brittish, blonde, and weirdly preoccupied with the machinations of fate.

#jjba part 7 #liveblogging

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stephenjaymorrisblog · 1 year

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If You Were Never Born, Then You Will Never Die

(That is Why God Was Never Born.)

Stephen Jay Morris

4/3/2023

©Scientific Morality.

Question: Why can’t you remember your own birth? Because of course you can’t! The Basal Ganglia part of your brain was not yet developed. That is where memory is stored. You may have fuzzy memories about your 4th year of existence, but the Basal Ganglia was still under construction. I’m not metaphysical, by any means. But entertain this question: if you don’t remember your birth, could it be that you were never born? Or, maybe you always existed, got a bad case of amnesia, and then were reborn. As an agnostic, I believe in evidence. It must satisfy my senses in the way my vision, ears, sense of touch, sense of smell, taste, and other sensory functions are satisfied.

Buddhism could be correct about reincarnation. If so, how come you don’t remember your previous life, or lives? Perhaps, the Christians are right. If you kiss God’s ass, then you will live with him in eternity. However, that edict is erroneous and defies logic. If that game plan is in the bible, then why even exist? Doing God’s bidding when he can do it himself? If we are God’s slaves, then why even live. Life is rendered meaningless.

Satanists believe in egotism. You are here to serve you own selfish needs. Is life more than pleasure and material things? Yes, it is. There is more to life than happiness. If you haven’t worked that out by the age of 30, then you never will. Is life about altruism? Well, it sure beats the fuck out of Natural Law!

So, why do we have religion, anyway? Thanatophobia! Otherwise known as “the fear of death.”

Our ego is the underlying reason we don’t want to die. Another reason is the fear of pain. Since people are afraid of death, they will find a doctrine that says that they must follow certain, man-made rules, and then live with God forever and ever!

Rest assured that medical science is making strides in increasing human longevity. Life expectancy is getting longer and longer. In the 19th Century, life expectancy was 50 years old. I am 69 and I attribute my old age to science. But even so, each of us will eventually die. Maybe 200 years from now, science will develop a pill that guarantees eternal life?

I am happy with the way things are. I would hate to live forever, and I hope there is no after life. I always thought that, since I don’t remember what it was like before I was born, the same goes for after my death. I won’t know a thing. Why would anyone want to live forever anyway? Float around without hunger, no sexual concupiscence, no ego, science, no basketball? No way and no dice! Now, Islamic afterlife is more hedonistic, according to the Koran; it says that there is sex after death. Heck, a lot of women thought I was part of the living dead whenever we screwed!

What about good and evil? No such thing! It is strictly a religious construct. It means pro-God or anti-God. God has done a lot of evil things, like causing genocide by flooding the earth and killing the old, the very young, and pregnant women. What type of God is that? And this so-called, Arch Angel, Satan? What is he, a registered Republican? He hates poor people and the innocent. Read the gospel of Jesus. He loves the poor and the sick—more than Bernie Sanders does. The fact that those who accuse others of being evil, eagerly support a bastard like Donald Trump, makes me scratch my head!

These are existential questions of mine. Oh, I’m just as freaked out about death as anybody. That is the biggest issue in life. When I was 11 years old, I got the “cosmic slap,” and realized that all of this will one day end. Then I came to learn that my time spent on this earth can be better spent helping others. Well, now that I am a Senior Citizen, I want to enjoy life while I am still here.

This is the 21st Century and the kings of the earth continue their oppression, the “my God is better than your God” perpetuates useless religious wars, and greedy oil fiends relentlessly drive us into climate disaster. Well, I’ve had my fill of politics. I will continue to keep tabs, but that's all I’ll do. I’ve paid my dues, so fuck my critics!

#stephenjaymorris #poets of tumblr #religion #anti religion #anarchist movement #theology #atheism #christainity #anarchism #theism

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lone-wolf-no-more · 2 years

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Life is Like a Box of Legos...You Build with What You Get

Tuesday, February 21, 2023

Another moment that was a painful today. Selling my Legos. 30 plus years of memories in that box, and some lucky guy on Facebook Marketplace bought it off me for a song.

I mean, I don’t want to ruminate on it. Yes, I can buy more Legos...someday. But...no. I have to fight that thought. The VERY reason those little plastic bricks had any significance to me was the people behind those memories. That’s it. If anything, one has to sometimes do painful things in order to grow and move forward.

I’ve often found that when I am around loving people, doing the things that truly matter to me, that truly fulfill me, that the things I have to give up (more like, the process of putting the past behind me) isn’t anywhere near as hard or painful. Which plays into what I’ve been thinking about technology, and my relationship with it, and my connections with people online.

The loss of the past only feels as painful as my sense of lack of hope and optimism for the here and now, and the future. I hold onto the past, because it seems so ideal, so much better than what I have in the here and now. And we as humans hold onto those symbols of the past, as if they were they themselves contain the past and the times we reminisce over. We forget, once again, it’s about the people around those memories that made them what they are. Not merely some pile of plastic bricks, or a house with four walls, or even a yard with some trees and basketball net.

And the believe that the only reason that thinking about putting technology and “online relationships” to the sidelines is such a painful proposition to me, is because it’s by and large made up a huge part of my reality. My sense of the “outside world” and everything else has largely come through a screen.

Even as a child, I remember that while I welcomed the times of meeting other people, of doing group activities, of playing with the neighborhood kids (good ol’ 90’s vibes all around), I would often find myself being drawn to being isolated, while staring at a screen. I have too many memories of myself choosing to avoid social interaction, and instead flying that virtual helicopter, commanding that fake army, or trying to keep Mario dying for the 100th time. I see now that those patterns of being very sensitive and a bit socially inept in new situations, together with a past history of being misjudged as a young man, have really conflicted with my ability to just not care if people see things different than I do, to just be comfortable in my own skin, and not care so much about how I measure up to others’ standards.

To this day, whenever I’m around when a disagreement or misunderstanding happens (whether it be online, and especially, in person), I get so incredibly uncomfortable. I don’t want to say the wrong thing and make things worse, and then end up blaming myself. I do realize that part of that also stems from me having schisms, so to speak, between myself and others, and having them dislike or distance themselves from me. I guess you could say I’m always wondering, “Oh no, did I do or say something wrong yet again?”

Circling back to what I was saying, I do think too much of my childhood was me avoiding living real life, even though I did “allow myself” to live it at times, and those ended up forming some of the best memories. But then I’m constantly asking myself this question: “To what end?” To what end was my frolicking, my Lego building, my escapism, my fort building, whatever it may have been? Yes, I know, I must be more kind and forgiving to my “former self”, but I 100% know that I didn’t grow up fast enough. Back to what I was saying several posts ago, there must be that child-like wonder and playfulness, but it should be tempered with a very real sense of living “real life”. To me, that means showing kindness and sacrifice to others in your words and actions.

I may only be 32, but I still have more than enough regret that I lived too much of my life selfishly. The childhood escapism stretched into my teens and twenties. It wasn’t uncommon for me to leave home on my bicycle, and spend hours at the local library. That very well may have been the “ideal drug” for me at the time. I was able to waste hours on YouTube and elsewhere (hello, NewGrounds and MiniClip), while still not feeling entirely isolated.

But I lost track of the times I would go home, be alone even more with the videos I downloaded and took back with me, or the DVDs, or the freeware video games I had hunted down, and then go to sleep feeling worse. And then waking up, dreading the next day. I honestly don’t know what’s worse: biking long quiet stretches in the countryside just to be alone more, or being alone in suburbia, where you feel so closed in and stifled.

It’s a strange dichotomy. You hate being alone, to the point that it can outright crush you, but then you feel ill at ease around others, because you feel that you have nothing to offer, like life is more than just going from one gathering to the next, it’s more than just filling up your time with learning knowledge.

Again, truly living to me, is making everywhere you go better, maybe even just that room you’re in right now. Truly living is exploring and discovering life, and the world, together with others, it’s about building things and growing together in the real world. Because life spent alone with listlessness and regret is a horrible thing.

So, what are my biggest struggles right now? Simply forgiving my past self, and putting the past behind me, namely the past I had not even 5 years ago. And then beyond that, looking ahead to the future with optimism and hope, deciding that I can and MUST make decisions that will lead me to seeing my life as fulfilling and purposeful, and rejecting the stuff that just simply doesn’t help towards that end. Yeah, I get that this still seems like an abstract idea.

But circling back to what I was saying about technology, in this day and age, it is increasingly easy to try to replace that emptiness in our hears with more podcasts, more videos, more Discord servers full of people who we will probably won’t see face to face.

If the answer was technology, why are we less happy now, less fulfilled than we used to be before the internet and the age of smartphones helped crush our child-like sense of awe, of creativity, of hope, of optimism?

It’s time for me and whomever reads this to do some deep soul searching. Because at the end of the day, when I finish the novel I’m reading right now, Captain Nemo and Professor Aronnax will have parted ways with me, and they will remain fictional characters. This isn’t me saying fictional books are bad. No, especially since they help to foster those very things I listed above. What I’m saying is that it’s time for me to stop substituting escapism and vicarious living for accomplish great things in the real world.

I know quite clearly that I just basically had you drag an anvil through mud there. Hopefully this served some good purpose, and the next entry will reflect more of that hope and joy I so clearly desire.

Until the next entry, todaloo. :)

youtube

^This is to help temper the more serious nature of this post. Handel's music (especially the piece this movement is from) has been precious to me ever since my family bought a CD with it when I was 7.

#Youtube

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kithtaehyung · 2 years

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friends (3tan) (m) | myg

title: friends (the week, pt. 1) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: the week you get with yoongi has a few surprises. and one of them presents itself in the form of a phone call. warnings: cursing, tension, oc’s are introduced!!, oral (m rec), degradation, the amount of kiss scenes wow lol, power dynamics (cmnf), fingering, angst yeah i know, throat fucking, choking, rude yoongi :))), multiple orgasms, breast play, cum swallowing, the chains stay on😀😀😀, cunt slapping, sl*t/wh*re mentions, dirty talk, yoongi’s mouth in general, overthinking, doubt, head/hair pulling, body worship, praise, restraining via headboard a ha ha, this one is p angsty y’all😭 note: thank you to @sugakookitty for being an angel beta !! i know this was super last minute i am so so sorry. i owe you some tangerines! note 2: and here we are again. i hope you all like this installment, and i wanted to thank everyone for being so patient and supportive. it truly means so much to me! if you haven’t gotten around to three tangerines yet, i highly encourage you to read the series first since this is from the same universe :D it would make more sense! word count: 15.6k drop date: april 26th, 2022, 7:17pm est

“Long weekend, huh?”

On instinct, you nudge Taehyung with your shoulder, hearing him laugh into his tea straw while the both of you amble down a dilapidated sidewalk.

Despite its rugged form, the concrete path remains one of the cleaner ones in the city, hugging the longer side of an old shopping center filled with newer businesses.

It’s one you remember walking down many, many times.

“I said shut up,” you emptily huff. “I’m not telling you shit.”

“You don’t have to, dude. The way you look tells me everything.”

Afternoon traffic reaches your ears as you toss intrigue your friend’s way. “And what does that mean?”

“You outshine the sun right now.”

“Wow.” Taking a sip of your usual boba selection, you clear your throat to relieve yourself of the bits of embarrassment caught inside. “Shakespeare is quaking in his grave.”

Taehyung snorts. “Please. I’d run circles around that old man.”

“Wouldn’t doubt that. You’re both lame.”

“And you’re glowing but won’t spill. I dunno why you’re acting.”

“Huh?”

A fiendish smile slips between you before he replies, “I know you’re dying to talk about it.”

Fuck Kim Taehyung for being so right all the time.

Because screw it, you really are. So much happened between you and Yoongi that you’re almost bursting at the seams with giddiness. The only thing dampening your mood is the fact that you can’t possibly let this secret out, as much as you want to shout about it from the rooftops.

If you release whatever you have out in the world—even if just to one person—it may have a way of traveling a lot further than you planned. And with that comes certain risks.

Like the risk of your brother finding out.

However, the person wanting to know is Taehyung. And he already knows the juiciest part.

“Okay, fine,” you blurt, hiding your smile with another sip. “But not out here.”

Your annoying best friend slowly scans around the empty area with intention, his gaze landing on a patch of shrubbery next to his knees. “Right. I would hate for these bushes to know your dirty little secret.”

“Ugh! Just not in public. Let’s go to your place.”

“Ah… Let’s go to yours.”

Quirking a brow, you watch his steady features before relenting. The excitement to tell anyone outweighs your curiosity—for the time being, at least.

“Fine. But let’s get food first.”

“Oh my god, you’ve got it bad.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t rag on me for telling the truth!”

You roll your eyes as you take another bite of your takeout. “You weren’t supposed to be so judgy.”

“I’m not being judgy,” Taehyung laughs. “Just observant.”

“Well, either way. It’s not true.”

Even though his mouth is full, you can clearly tell he calls “bullshit” through black bean noodles and meat. Watching the television in front of you, you decide not to offer any replies, simply observing the drama switch to another scene with telltale heart-filled filters.

Admittedly, your vision seems to have that same effect.

Because you can’t fucking stop thinking about Yoongi and the week you get him to yourself.

You haven’t felt like this in ages, like your stomach can’t settle but your heart has it far worse—buzzing, tingling, fizzing all over. Thousands of butterflies occupy your chest, fluttering and beating so loud that they kept you up all of last night and carried you throughout your entire, otherwise shitty workday.

Fuck, you wanna see him.

“Like I said.”

Damn it.

“You got it bad.”

“Okay, okay,” you groan, setting your food down with a pout. “I may be into him a little bit.”

Taehyung looks so affronted that you laugh, cheeks a little tighter than usual.

At this, your friend regards you with scrunched brows and a grin, getting up from the floor to sit on the couch next to you. Cross legged and all. “Look at you! Okay, you’re hiding something. Spill.”

“I told you everything!”

“Liar.”

“I swear.”

“Get real.”

You start to vacate your seat when a large hand shoots up and grabs your wrist.

“Ah ah. Tell me, miss guilty. Whatever you’re hiding from me is huge.”

Plopping back down, you think about exactly what you want to say, knowing that you’re not giving that secret up. You divulged pretty much everything else that happened over the weekend: the way Yoongi came over, the way he took you back to his place, and everything that went down while you were there.

But there’s one thing you are not going to uncover.

And it’s safely hidden away in a jewelry box in your room.

“I know what it is.”

Cocking your head, you observe your friend with narrow eyes, horrified for a split second that he’ll be right yet again. “What then?”

“He asked you out.”

And Taehyung finally misses by a longshot.

“Hell no!”

“He did, didn’t he! I knew it. He has it even worse than you do.”

A laugh leaves your throat before you can stop it. Your friend can say whatever he wants but that is certainly not the case. There’s no way.

Besides, the dating stage is a pipe dream, so there’s no need to even entertain that.

This week is just… a separate timeline. Broken off from the normal passing of things and sectioned off for the two of you to play pretend.

“He does not have it worse than I do,” you finally sigh, placing your chin in a palm and watching a love confession unfold in countless pixels. “And he did not ask me out. You said yourself he doesn’t do relationships.”

“Technically, no. But it’s not like he hasn’t been in one before.”

That’s true. You remember Yoongi had a couple more-than-flings, or regulars as all your brother’s friends referred to them as. But even then, it seemed he kept his options open. At least, from what you somewhat gathered by passing rumors on the sidewalk and in several cramped garages.

But him? With you?

Fairytales aren’t real.

Opportunities are.

And the both of you just happened to seize this particular one by the throat.

“I know, Tae,” you sigh as you turn away from the screen. Love confessions aren’t exactly real, either. Not like the ones in shows that seem to be perfect and timely and precede a happily ever after. “But you know how he is.”

“Apparently not really.”

“What do you mean?”

“He cooked with you.”

“So?”

Taehyung shoots you a look that screams for you to get his point. “That’s some married life shit!”

“Stop!” you gasp, burying your head further into your hand. “It’s not a big deal!”

“When have you ever heard of him cooking with someone, let alone letting you stay after fucking?”

“I don’t keep tabs on him, Tae.”

“You should now. But ignoring that.” He flops his legs down on the ground and shifts himself forward, his turn to watch the aftermath of the confession. “I’ve never heard him do that with anyone ever since his last relationship.”

“So?”

“I dunno. I just…” Biting a nail, Taehyung keeps his eyes unblinking. “It’s interesting. Since he practically swore off them since then.”

Ah.

You didn’t know that.

You also weren’t exactly privy to his last real relationship anyway, since it happened while you were still in university.

But you do remember your brother getting irritated and slightly annoyed that he barely saw him once he was in one.

You wonder what Yoongi’s like with someone he’s willing to commit to. And you wonder if it’s even better than what you experienced yesterday.

Fuck. Your heart starts to hurt at the prospect of that being true.

Because yesterday was one of the best days of your life.

“You look happy,” Taehyung continues, snipping your thoughts in two. “I won’t deny that.”

And you turn back to face the television and admit, “I am.”

“But I’m also trying to stay realistic.”

“Yeah.”

“So if you ever feel like the ride’s too rough, get off.”

“…Yeah.”

It’s nightfall when you finally decide to flip open the jewelry box in your room, taking out the top layer to reveal its hidden section underneath.

And the key that you were given twenty-four hours ago.

Your stare is long before you finally decide to fish it out, feeling all the possibilities that come with it in your fingers. All the doors that have been opened with this one gesture alone.

The spare is heavier now than when you first took it.

Gnawing on your lip, you bring it all the way to your bed, halfway sitting on the edge and contemplating whether to even use it or not.

Do you give in the first night? Is that being too eager? Too clingy? It’s possible that Yoongi would think so even if he never said anything. Even though you were able to get to know him a lot more than you expected, that man is still a walking enigma. You still don’t exactly know how he truly operates.

…But what if you don’t use it tonight and he takes it the wrong way?

That’s also a probable case. Maybe he expects you to use it already and, if you prove him wrong, he’ll come home to an empty apartment. How would he feel then? Would he even care?

Frankly, would Yoongi even care whether you used the key or not?

Fuck!

A loud groan flies out of your throat and shoots through your ceiling, and you flop back onto your sheets, weighed down by the mountain of thoughts in your head.

There’s another reason why you haven’t reached a solid decision yet.

Yoongi hasn’t texted or called since this morning.

It was a quick conversation between the two of you, and the content wasn’t anything major. However, that was the last time you heard from him, even after you texted him to see how work was going, wondering if it was a hell of a lot better than your day.

And still, hours and hours later, nothing.

What Taehyung said earlier flashes in your mind with blinking red letters, but you shoo it away before you let it permeate further into your thoughts. Your week with Yoongi has only just started. No reason to get overworked with stress already.

In any case, maybe it’s best for you not to go over there until he texts back. Like he said before handing you his spare—though, you can only speculate because the entire night turned fuzzy after that—he didn’t know how the week was gonna go.

So it’s highly possible he’s just neck deep in work and can’t talk. And who are you to bother him?

You slowly get up to grab your phone before putting the key back in its hiding spot. Typing away, you create and delete and create and delete and finally decide on a message to send before getting ready for bed.

You [typing]: Next time!

You:

You [typing]: You got this !!

You:

You [10:33pm]: 😴

Tuesday hands you yet another rough day at work.

Nothing seems to move in a positive direction; the leadership decisions make no sense; people are getting snippy. Everything is puncturing your brain to find its breaking point and quite frankly it’s gonna be found soon enough.

What’s worse: none of your texts to Yoongi have been read. Not the text from last night, nor the short ones you sent this morning.

Essentially, everything sucks right now.

The last few hours of your workday crawl by, and you’re practically bolting out the door when it’s finally over. Hoping that you hear back from any of the jobs you applied for over the weekend.

Thank god Yoongi told you to—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Staring at your phone, your heart leaps out to get to your car before you do.

What the hell? How does he manage to catch you at the most ideal times? You feel incredibly relieved just to see his name.

As you answer the call, you wonder if you could ever have that same effect on him.

“Hi.”

“Hey. Finally leaving the fucking studio.”

Oh, shit. He sounds downright pissed.

Body alert, you open your car door and get inside. “Damn. You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Hold on. “When you say finally…”

“We’ve been in there since yesterday. I would’ve called you but Kook snatched up all our phones.”

Holy hell. That explains the complete radio silence, at least. Your shoulders feel much, much lighter, despite your concern for Yoongi and all the crap he’s going through himself. “Oh, shit. You let him do that?”

“He’s just lucky you picked up.”

You laugh while feeling a strange bubbling in your stomach. “He’s also lucky I’m a forgiving person.”

“So am I.”

“But damn, I’m sorry—” Words die on your tongue. You almost said baby at the end of that sentence. Oh, fuck.

Tae was right. You’ve got it stupid bad.

Your eyes squeeze shut at the thought of actually saying that out loud, embarrassment from something that didn’t even happen coating your entire body. Recovering as best as you can, you look to humor by default.

“I should’ve gone over and made food again,” you joke after clearing your throat. “Then you’d never win against me.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“Giving up already?”

“I do that a lot.”

You blow air out of your mouth as you pull out of the parking lot, relishing the orange and purple hues of late afternoon skies. “Lazy!”

“Less work. And more food.”

“You know what, you can make your own damn dinner. I’m tired of you.”

A light chuckle fills your car’s speakers before Yoongi responds,

“Don’t lie.”

“Mm. I was gonna come over but now I think I’ll just stay home.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’m coming over.”

Your fingers immediately grip your steering wheel. “Wait! People could see.”

“It’s one or the other, doll. Better choose quick.”

“Okay, okay,” you rush out through a growing grin. “I’ll come over for a bit.”

“A bit?”

“Yes, for a bit.” As you make your way through intersections, you shake your head at how easy it is for Yoongi to make your day. You feel like someone shouldn’t get to have this power, and yet you are nothing but grateful for him.

On your way past a line of restaurants, an idea comes to mind. “Did you eat yet?”

“Nah. You?”

“No, I’m starving,” you sigh, starting to suggest that he meet you somewhere before realizing that you can’t quite do that. Damn. “I can get food then head over.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. You got it last time.”

“Suit yourself.”

Swallowing the slight sadness you feel, you tell yourself to stay in the moment. Take advantage of this time you have with him without muddying it with future worries. Your voice comes out quiet when you let him go,

“See you soon then.”

And his comes out just as soft.

“See ya.”

It’s stupid.

But you wanted to do it anyway.

Holding his spare key in your fingers, you rub its metallic surface, shaking your head at yourself for going all the way home just to get it before grabbing food. Doing so made the whole trip much longer, but at least it also gave you an excuse to change out of your work clothes and freshen up a bit before coming.

Besides. When else will you get a chance to do this? When else are you ever going to get this opportunity again?

Plastic bags rustling under your determined wrist, you slide the key in his lock, twisting it and hearing the mechanisms click.

Strange.

Unlocking Yoongi’s door feels so significant, even though it’s such a mundane, everyday thing on its own accord. People do it all the time, and yet… Doing so gives you a feeling you can’t quite place.

Swinging the entrance open, you expect to see it lit and have at least something happening.

But you’re greeted with nothing.

It’s enough to make you worry.

Were you gone for that long? Did he assume you weren’t coming anymore and already go to sleep?

“...Yoongi?”

No response cuts through the dark of the living room. In fact, there isn’t even a hint of activity following your question. For a moment, you think he didn’t even make it back—until the faint light and sound slipping under his bedroom door pull you in.

Your bags shift as you tiptoe across the front area and, with each ginger step, you’re hoping that whatever greets you behind that wooden barrier doesn’t make you flee.

But when you finally near the blocked entryway, you freeze with your hand on the knob.

Because the muffled sound you hear is not just noise.

But a recording.

It’s him.

In all the times you wondered about Yoongi’s music equipment and from what he told you about his job, you rarely thought about him doing anything other than production. Sure, you entertained the idea of him on a mic, but nothing you imagined sounded like what you’re hearing now.

Do you even go in there?

Honestly, it feels like you would intrude if you did.

But, knowing Yoongi, he would probably tell you to do it anyway. Or at least try to.

So you set your stuff down on his kitchen table before going back to the door, slowly opening it and peeking your head inside.

Oh.

Adorable.

Instead of seeing him tapping away in the dark on a keyboard or clicking buttons, all you see is his head buried in the crook of his sleeved elbow, his sleeping form faintly outlined blue by the light of his monitor.

How long did you actually take?

Moving toward him, you try not to take in the looped recording too much to preserve that privacy he wanted. But damn it, the piece sounds incredible and you can’t help but feel proud of him for this one soundbite alone.

When you approach Yoongi’s side, you swallow your selfishness and pause the music.

And you already wanna hear him again.

Suddenly coated in silence, you lightly place a hand on his arm before whispering his name. After he doesn’t move the first time, you give him a gentle shake. “Yoongi?”

A deep inhale comes out of him before he lifts his head, and your brain practically resets when you notice he’s wearing the same glasses you saw months ago.

He turns to regard you with sleepy eyes. “Hey, doll.”

“Hey,” you whisper, melting on the inside. “Come eat for a sec.”

“Mmph.” Slowly, he turns his gaze to his monitor before squinting, bringing both hands up to rub his face afterwards.

Giggling, your admiration for his groggy state comes through in your teasing, “Sleepyhead. Come on, it won’t take long. Then you can pass out.”

Yoongi still doesn’t move, though he does offer you a nod.

Looks like you gotta do this the hard way.

Softly, you wrap your hand around his arm and pull upward, giving enough strength until he obliges and stands with you.

And you don’t know why you do what you do next—the cute way he looks, the fact that it’s something you’ve been wanting to do for awhile now, whatever—but you do it without much thought.

You slip your fingers down both his sleeves to take his hands in yours, telling yourself that you’re just doing it to get him across his room.

From past experience, you know his palms are rough. But when you have them cradled in yours, you don’t expect them to also be warm. Maybe it’s all those hoodies and long sleeves he always wears.

And it’s almost awkward to hold his hands, but a good kind of awkward. Just… different. New.

With all these thoughts swirling around your head, you get thrown completely off guard when Yoongi takes your fingers in his and pulls you in and oh fuck his lips are on yours now what the—

Your surprise comes out muffled as you’re slowly backed up all the way to his open door, jumping a little in shock and something else when your shoulder blades hit.

But he’s undeterred. Yoongi’s deep, slow, determined kisses keep coming, even while he closes his fingers around yours and languidly pins a hand next to your ear. Breathing through your nose, you feel his beautiful weight on your chest and stomach, matching his lazy but full licks and sucks as best as you can muster.

Why does this feel so good? Kissing had never felt this magical before. Every motion bends time itself and melts your legs into mush; heat and sparks erupt under your skin, your veins hot but never as molten as his. Smell, taste, touch. All of these are heightened and yet drowned in seconds.

What is this feeling? What is this burning hearth in your chest? It’s nothing like you’ve ever experienced, and you know this is a moment you’ll remember for a very, very long time.

But as all other good things do, this kiss comes to an end, surrendering to heavy breaths and a forehead pressing against yours.

“I’m so exhausted,” Yoongi murmurs. “But I can’t stop kissing you.”

Fuck.

Don’t give in.

You just know it’s something he would say to anyone in your position. You can’t think you’re special. You just can’t. Not when your emotions are at their absolute peak after that stunning, incredible…

Screw it.

“Then don’t.”

You initiate this time, capturing Yoongi’s lips so suddenly that he jerks back before gripping you harder.

Whatever he attempts to say comes out in a groan instead, but he recovers to lean forward and pin you right back against his door.

And the intensity jumps tenfold. The swipes he drags against your tongue, the thrust against your hips, the growls he slips into your mouth—all of them juxtapose how tired he looks. And you are absolutely caught in an inherent magnetism that only he can possess even on the verge of exhaustion.

It feels like an eternity can pass and you would still be fine staying exactly where you are: right here, in his embrace, lips locked as tight as your hands.

But reality starts to win as you both come down from your high—lowering, and lowering, and lowering—and Yoongi dips right back into his sluggish demeanor.

Feeling his head droop onto your shoulder, you offer him a smile he can’t see as you pat his arm. “Eat. Then you can sleep.”

“Mm.”

“Come on,” you encourage through a whisper, and you once again guide him out of his room and to his kitchen table.

Silently apologizing, you go to flip on the stove light to illuminate the area enough to see. As warm yellow spills into the small dining area, you walk back over to see Yoongi inspecting what you brought.

“I hope what I got is okay,” you say with little confidence.

You decided on a popular local chain, but you had to guess at what Yoongi would order there. Judging from the way he nods before digging in, you made the right choices.

That’s enough for you. Smiling to yourself, you take a seat in the middle chair before unboxing your meal.

“This is actually what I get from here.”

“Really?” you chirp as you smell the aromas coming from both dishes. “Dope. It’s what I get, too.”

“You got good taste then,” Yoongi responds with a lift of his mouth, and you both huff out tiny laughs.

At least a few parts of your day are going well. The kiss was enough to last you a lifetime, but getting Yoongi’s preferences right? Which happen to also be yours? You’re floating.

But after a few minutes of silence go by, you start to sink back down to earth. Not because of the lack of conversation—it’s quite comfortable. You just start to move your food around more than eat it, thinking about your job and how you really don’t want to go back tomorrow.

Normally, you would rant about work woes with your friends, or Taehyung. But can you do the same with Yoongi? Would he care to really listen to boring stuff like that?

“You good?”

Snapping your head up, you see a concerned stare resting behind thin specs, fiery hair a bit dulled in the low lighting.

“I’m good now,” you admit. “Work was just stupid.”

“I feel that.”

Nodding, you sigh before adjusting yourself in your chair, ultimately deciding to spare him all the dumb details about your day.

Besides, he’s clearly tired. You don’t wanna give him more things to deal with. So you settle on something he already knows about and let it end there. “I just hope I hear from one of those listings soon.”

“You will,” Yoongi assures. “Give’em time.”

Not expecting any response from him at all, you trudge on before holding back. “Okay. I just don’t wanna be stuck, you know?”

A small snort leaps from his seat. “Out of everybody I know? You wouldn’t let that happen.”

You can only stare at him before looking away.

How is Yoongi able to quell your worries so fast all the time? Is he like this with everyone? If he is, no wonder he’s gotten so many people in the palm of his hand. No wonder every person on the planet wants to steal a bit of his heart.

It’s one thing to be attractive physically. But Yoongi’s mental? It makes you have to stop yourself from launching across the table to attack him again.

Guarding your heart from getting ahead of itself, you put your chin in one of your hands. “Everyone should pay you for making them feel better all the time.”

“Huh?”

“You always know what to say to people.”

Without missing a beat, Yoongi responds.

“I hate people.”

“Liar!” you laugh out, inwardly sighing at the shit grin he beams you with. “You can’t be this nice and not like anyone.”

He simply shakes his head. When he starts to explain, his voice seems to drag across the ocean floor,

“I don’t think you get it, doll.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m not like this with just anyone.”

Ah.

Roaming your eyes over his sure features, shyness quickly takes over and you become quite interested in the scratch marks in his table.

“But I mean it,” Yoongi says. “Someone will be gunning for you any day now. Don’t worry about it too much.”

A rueful smile slowly carves itself into your face. For someone that tends to overthink and wonder about every little thing, hearing things like this mean the world.

Before, the only person that could really talk sense into you was Taehyung. But it didn’t even take a handful of times for Yoongi to fill that same kind of role, whether it’s been hours or months between the times you’ve seen him.

Frankly, it’s scary how quickly you’re able to feel this connected despite your different walks of life, and the overall feeling lodged in your chest is hard to describe.

It’s like seeing a long lost friend that you were meant to find again.

Overcome with a swell of emotion, you stare at your finished food. Because there’s no way you can look anywhere else. The only thing you can get out of your slightly clogged throat is a tiny,

“Thank you.”

“It’s true,” Yoongi responds through a sudden yawn. Covering his mouth before rubbing the bottom half of his face, he exhales. “Honestly, I’m shocked you came back.”

You regard him again. “Like this town?”

He nods, eyes already shutting.

And you hum in return, all the decisions you made in the past washing up in the forefront of your mind.

You don’t think he’d want to hear any of that, either. So you simply sum it up with a much more succinct,

“Me, too.”

Closing your box, you put all the trash in one of the plastic bags, mind filled with your day and all the feelings you can’t come to terms with. So much is clouding your thoughts that you don’t realize that he’s dozing off in his seat until seconds later.

Pausing in your movements, you whisper, “Yoongi?”

“Mm.”

Technically, it’s not late, but you know he still has to wake up pretty early. And it doesn’t help that he probably didn’t get much rest while camped in the studio.

Concern laces your voice as you ask, “You sure you can wake up on time tomorrow?”

He inhales before sighing. “I dunno. But I gotta.”

Damn.

Whatever they’re working on must be incredibly important if he’s this determined. The late nights, the lockdowns, the taken phones. All of it must be weighing on his shoulders and yet he is the one making you feel better?

Maybe you can help him out. You can be his strength just as he can be yours.

“I can stay. I just need to go home and get my stuff.”

Yoongi shakes his head, hair slightly parting in the motion. “You don’t have to, doll.”

“I have to get up early for work anyway. I’ll just leave from here.”

Silent, you plead him to let you help. You’ve done it before to make sure your secret wasn’t blown, but this time is purely out of selflessness.

And Yoongi grants you your wish when he sighs out a faint,

“Okay.”

The plan was to simply go home, get your stuff, then head back.

You did not plan to get a call from one of your friends on the way there.

Cursing at the caller ID, you compose yourself before accepting, eyes back on the road when not one, but three of them answer your greeting.

“Hey, babe!”

“Where are you? Come out!”

“We haven’t seen you in forever, bitch!”

Oh, shit.

You tense, hoping they aren’t in a car and can see you driving back to your place. “I can’t tonight,” you finally remember to respond, mind whirling with possible escape routes because—

“Why not!”

“Where have you been!”

“You don’t have shit to do!”

Damn it, damn it, damn it. Gripping your wheel, you dart your eyes along the streets before swallowing your truths.

If it were any other night, you would keep your secret under wraps and let Yoongi know the change of plans. You’d go out with them and make it up to him later.

But not tonight.

Damn, why did they have to call now!

Purposefully lowering your voice, you groan, “I’ve been sick. Stomachache… I’m sorry.”

“Awhhh, babe.”

“Wait, you sound like you’re in a car, though…”

Fuck!

“Yeah, just getting stuff from the store. Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

The line has a bunch of hums and groans, and you know that some of your friends don’t buy it. But thankfully, they don’t pry tonight.

“Alright, well let us know next time so we can get you soup or something.”

“Yeah, you know we got you!”

“Feel better soon, kay?”

You love them.

You hate lying to them.

“I’ll make it up to y’all, okay? Promise.”

“Oh, you’re good!”

“Feel better!”

“I’ll hold you to that, shit, forget about them.”

The laughs on the line welcome yours as you join them, and you thank everything out there that they let you go this time.

But as you say goodbye and the line cuts out, your heart drops with a thud.

This.

This is what it would be like if the two of you keep seeing each other on the regular.

You somehow avoided it for a couple days, but now reality is coming back to play. And next time, your friends may start to suspect something’s up.

Which is why you need to make the most of this week while you can.

Being in Yoongi’s bathroom a few times now, it’s a lot different when you’re in there to get ready for bed.

After your friends gave you mini heart attacks, you were so frazzled that all you did when you went home was gather clothes and all your toiletries before hauling ass back out.

Which lead you to having to get ready at the same counter that Yoongi uses everyday—minus the times he’s forced to stay in studios.

But you go through your nightly routine, head filled with several thoughts and worries and feelings, the most recent being the way your chest constricted when you unlocked Yoongi’s door to find him sleeping in his bedroom.

What would it be like to have that as your normal?

How are you in this position at all?

Looking back at the very first time you trembled for minutes on his rude welcome mat, you cannot fathom how it went from that moment to this one.

He gave you a key to the door that you were terrified to knock on.

You still can’t believe it.

Brimming with butterflies, you finish up and vacate Yoongi’s bathroom, rounding his bed to gently nestle into your side—moreso the least amount of space that you can muster. Setting your alarms, you rest your phone down before slipping your eyes shut.

You almost think about settling in closer, but you don’t want to cross any other boundaries that he could have. Accidentally hearing his recording was egregious enough.

But Yoongi’s croaky voice startles your bones.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“I didn’t. But this is much better than calling you.”

He huffs out a low laugh. “True.”

And you think that’s the end of your conversation.

Until he speaks again.

“You gonna hang off the edge like that all night?”

“I…”

“Come here.”

Oh.

You turn under the covers to see faint moonlight reflecting in his drooping eyes, and you wonder how someone like him should even be allowed to exist.

Shifting forward, your chest rattles when Yoongi lifts an arm to bring you close, and he plants the softest kiss on your forehead before whispering gratitude again.

“No problem,” you sigh into the warmth of his covered chest, inhaling the scent around you that is purely him.

Quickly after, Yoongi is lost to slumber.

So you couldn’t tell him how you just lied to your friends.

Goddamn, your alarm is annoying.

But it works like a charm.

Sleepily tapping it off your screen, you twist in place. “Hey,” you whisper with eyes half-closed, “You awake?”

“Mmhmm.”

The power of your obnoxious alarm. You’re actually embarrassed to wake another person up with it, but you chose to do this in the first place.

“Good.”

Both of your voices are heavy with sleep as Yoongi rubs his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Five.”

“What time you gotta leave?”

“By six,” you yawn, unwittingly snuggling into his chest and hearing him softly laugh through his nose.

You feel a hand on your thigh before Yoongi lazily slings your leg over his, and your brain lights up at his admittance,

“I like you like this.”

“Mm,” is all you manage before your post-sleep brain rebels and says something else. “What else do you like…”

“Hmm?”

“You’re always asking me…” You breathe through your nose. “What do you like?”

You only get silence, and it goes on for so long that you figure everything just happened in your own head. As you start to doze off again, Yoongi’s raspy vocals rumble under your cheek,

“Kiss me.”

Lifting your head, you blink slowly before pushing up far enough to press your lips down onto his, breathing in deep through your nose.

The same hand resting on your leg slips down to the curve of your ass, and you quietly hum before Yoongi pulls away slightly.

“Kiss my neck.”

Staring down at his lidded eyes, you nod before lowering your lips, feeling his heartbeat beneath your chest. As you latch lips onto his column, you shut your eyes and preen at the deep groan Yoongi releases. Its vibrations scatter across your covered skin, forcing your hand to come up and lightly clutch the front of his shirt.

He cocks his head to the side to give you more room, humming low, “Mm. Just like that.”

His praise makes you bold, and you sleepily swirl your tongue over a vein before pressing deeper into his smooth skin. When he tenses, you keep swiping over that same spot, becoming more and more awake with each hiss he lets out.

Suddenly, your hand is clasped before he lowers your fingers, and you flinch when you feel his hard-on confined by sweats. Your breath whooshes onto the expanse of his neck, and before you can grab at him, Yoongi guides your hand somewhere else.

Somewhere much higher, and a lot more surprising.

Pulling away entirely, you watch him with intent from above. At your curiosity, he simply explains,

“Choke me.”

What?

Did you hear him right? Or are you still sleeping and all of this isn’t real?

With your fingers resting on the silky base of his neck, you blink. “You like that?”

“Uh huh.”

Well. You didn’t expect him to admit anything close to that, and his matter of factness is frankly attractive.

Instead of obliging right away, you slide your hand down to rake your nails over his nipple first, offering a tiny, miniscule, sleepy smirk of your own as Yoongi does the same.

Biting a corner of his lip, he warns, “Careful, baby girl.”

You chuckle as you bring your fingers to the base of his throat. “Or else what…”

“Or else—Fuck,” Yoongi groans with a sharp tilt of his head, feeling the sudden press of your fingers around his neck.

You don’t choke him completely, having never done this before. But the pressure you give seems to be more than enough for him, and your eyes blow wide at the way his eyebrows knit in pleasure.

Goddamn, he looks absolutely incredible like this.

Shrouded in sleep and lust, you swoop your head down to lap at his column again, letting instinct take over.

Curses and hisses fly out of Yoongi’s lips, and you drink them in until you feel legitimately drunk on his reactions alone.

You didn’t expect to enjoy giving him pleasure this much. If you are truthful with yourself, you don’t want to stop. You almost want to keep him here and never let him go.

“Fuck, hold on,” he hisses, suddenly gripping your wrist in frustration. And you relent. Though you aren’t happy about it. “I gotta go soon, doll.”

As much as you want him all to yourself, to explore this new territory he allowed you to have, there’s no way you can keep him from what he needs to do.

So you pull away, reveling in the angry, flushed appearance of his upper chest. You sincerely wish you tore off his shirt before everything started.

If you get the chance to continue…

Smirking again and wondering if he’s rubbing off on you, you airily joke, “That’s too bad.. Looks like you’ll have to wait for the rest.”

“What a tease.”

“Learned from the worst.”

You smile and he curves his mouth up in return. A squeak leaves you when he turns the tables with a flick of his hand, grabbing the back of your head to kiss your entire soul out.

Your eyes are still swirling when he pulls away, and you rise into a sitting position as he gets up with a laugh.

Grabbing a necklace from his nightstand, Yoongi looks at you taking up the middle of his mattress. But he doesn’t say anything before heading to his bathroom.

As soon as he’s inside, you expel all the air that you had been holding. All the pent up adrenaline that built while you were caught up in whatever just happened.

You want more of that. So, so much more of that.

And you also wanna stay in his bed, but you know that would be a little too much. Too domestic. So you scoot to the edge of his sheets and start to get ready for your own day.

As you reach for your phone, you gnaw on your bottom lip out of pure giddiness, thinking about when and how to continue what you both just started.

Until you see the onslaught of notifications on your lock screen.

jackson trash [12:30am]: open the door !!!

dpr doormat [12:30am]: biiiish r u home? u better b alive

bibi’s whore [12:34am]: we brought u stuff<33

Taeee😪[12:57am]: You at home?

Taeee😪: Missed Calls (3)

Taeee😪[1:30am]: Pick up!

Taeee😪[1:32am]: Where are you???

Taeee😪: Missed Calls (3)

Taeee😪[1:51am]: Bro pick up ur phone

Taeee😪: Missed Calls (2)

Taeee😪[2:50am]: You owe me :|

Stare burning into your screen, your jaw hits the floor as your shoulders push upward in fear. Immediately, you lock all the way up, your reaction whooshing out in a low, sharp,

“Oh, shit.”

“You good?”

Snapping your head up, you see Yoongi standing just outside his bathroom, scratching one of his elbows.

And you almost say that it’s nothing, that there isn’t anything wrong.

But then you remember the countless times he’s told you that you can tell him anything. And in your panicked state, you decide to take the plunge and finally give into his wishes.

“Well, uhh. No, actually. It’s my friends.” You look back down at your phone, gnawing your lip. “I’m a little worried.”

Yoongi crosses the room, rounding his bed while swiping a hoodie from his desk chair. “About?”

When he walks right up to you, all you can do is stare. Just for a bit. Because even minutes after waking up, he looks so handsome.

And looking at him is enough to calm you down.

But suddenly, he tosses his jacket onto the bed before bringing both hands forward, holding your hips and bringing you closer. “About what, doll?”

Fuck. Get yourself together, get your thoughts back in order. Clearing your throat, you let out the rest of your problems, hyper aware of the way his fingers rest on your sides, “They might think I’m dodging them. I said I couldn’t go out last night.”

Instead of pulling away, Yoongi simply leans in, latching velvety lips onto your neck and kissing your tension away. Small breaths leave your mouth before he mutters, “What did you say?”

“That I felt sick.”

Huffs of small laughter tickle your column. “Guess they didn’t buy that.”

You sigh as he keeps lapping at your throat, tilting your head to prolong not feeling so shitty. If it wasn’t for the hands gripping your sides—or the arms you clasp around his neck—you definitely would have collapsed to the ground by now. “Guess not... I wonder… if they tried the house.”

The moan you release spurns Yoongi to press your body back, and you feel the cool spackle of his wall instead of his door this time. As your back makes harder contact with the rough surface, you grunt into the kiss he plants on your lips.

You don’t know exactly why he’s all over you like this. Is it to distract you from worrying like you assumed? Is it because you’re finally doing what he’s been asking this whole time? Or is it because he wants to continue where you just left off because you sure as hell want that same exact thing. Anything else be damned right now.

If only it were that easy.

Yoongi’s voice still has a hint of sleep as he continues to question you, and you appreciate his willingness to help in any way. Especially since his way involves wrapping his arms further around you and resting them on your lower back. “You park inside, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How would they know you weren’t home then?”

“Maybe they knocked? I dunno...”

Yoongi pulls away. When his eyes roam your face, you wish you had some semblance of normalcy in your features instead of the sleepiness and stress you feel creasing your forehead. “You okay?”

“I… No. But. We can talk about it later. You gotta go.”

“Fuck, I do. But hey.” He gives you another kiss, as if he has all the time in the world. “Just tell me what you want. Okay?”

Your vision remains cloudy from the pillowy soft touch of his lips, and your words float off your tongue,

“What do you mean?”

You can tell that Yoongi doesn’t respond how he wants to, but he’s already backing up and heading out.

“I meant what I said.”

“Okay,” you call out to his back, and you watch him make his way through his apartment, looking at you one more time before clicking the entryway shut.

The rest of your day is slathered in anxiety and worry.

You manage to make it home without falling apart, though choosing to leave your stuff at Yoongi’s for just a bit longer.

To combat the impending calls you have to make, you breathe. Focus on quelling the storm in your stomach. Latch onto anything that grounds you.

The first thing you think about is being a kid again. How things were so simple, the only drama you encountered being playground fights. Then you think about other things, like memories and accomplishments and book quotes you’ve stored for safekeeping.

But slowly, the only thing that appears in your mind is a tidy apartment, with a kitchen filled with laughs and cold water all over the floors.

You can’t deny how at ease you feel when you’re in his place. Even when you were there alone, it was peaceful. It felt…

Clearly, you don’t want to let go of whatever feelings you have harbored in your chest. You want to make the most of them.

Before things have to reset.

Of course, the dark side of this week presented itself like a bright red spot on a blank canvas. Taehyung’s texts and calls could mean a thousand things, and the only thing that kept you from outright panic was him saying that you owed him.

Whatever happened was resolved. For now.

But nothing can stop you from feeling the guilt. The icky jitters in your stomach. The slight bit of shame from needing to tuck secrets away and wondering how to go about things.

What’s worse: knowing that it can’t ever be real with Yoongi unless something drastic changes. Which is why you can’t let yourself feel this way for much longer.

But the fact of the matter is that the two of you have barely started whatever this is. It’s not like you have a hold on him at all, even if he confirmed that he wasn’t seeing anyone else.

Maybe he operates differently now than he used to? You don’t know.

Whatever. Right now, you have to figure out how to get your friends off your back because things can get sticky real quick if they decide to snoop.

But first: call Taehyung.

It has to happen eventually. Even if you text him, you’d get an incoming call before your message even gets through.

So on the way to work, you brace yourself and do it, which turns out to be a loud mistake.

“You owe me big!”

“I know, Tae, I’m so sorry—”

“You know how hard I had to cover for you?”

“No… What happened?”

You hear him sigh before he questions,

“You told them you were sick, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you were just gonna stay home?”

“Yeah.”

“But you weren’t actually there, were you?”

You wince as you roll up to a red light.

“No.”

“Mm. Guess who had to lie and say you were at their place.”

Shutting your eyes in shame, you exhale. “I’m sorry.”

“Lemme finish. Guess who also had to weasel their way out of a videocall since people didn’t believe them.”

“Shit.” You feel so bad. He didn’t have to do all of that for you. “How the hell did you do that?”

“I’m not giving up my secrets to a sneak!”

“Tae!”

“Like I said: you owe me.”

Your building comes into view as you agree, “I do. I’m really sorry.”

“Just let me know next time so I’m more prepared, yeah?”

“Okay.”

“And you’re buying me lunch and dinner.”

“I will. Promise.”

There’s a big sigh on the line, and you bite your lip in anticipation. You know he’s not done with you yet.

But all Taehyung says is a soft handful of words, and your heart caves inward just a tad.

“We can handle your friends.”

“I know.”

“But it won’t be the same with him.”

You are fully aware of who he’s referring to. Because you already thought about the same exact thing.

As you park, you stare at your steering wheel but don’t quite look at it.

“I know.”

The only good thing about the mountain of worries you have to deal with?

They’re enough to dull your senses at work, and that’s saying something.

Somehow, you also request to take tomorrow off. And somehow, your request is accepted. Whether it’s the fact that you almost never ask off, or the wound-up way you look, you’ll take it.

After you make it back home, you carry your tired bones to your bed, flopping down and forcing yourself to clear your head as best as you can.

Fuck, you hate feeling this way.

You gotta fess up to your friends.

Of course, not everything. But you have got to tell them some of the truth so that their concern doesn’t dissolve into suspicion.

So you’ll confess a thing or two. You’ll just leave Yoongi’s name out of it.

After you take a nice, needed, absurdly long nap.

Taeee😪: Outgoing Call

“Come to grovel at my feet again? Or are you paying up?”

“Neither.”

“Oh. Bye then.”

“Wait!” You shift under your blankets, sitting up and hunching over. “I’m gonna tell them.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna tell them.”

“About him?”

“No, no. Not everything. Just… that I’m seeing someone.”

There’s a quick pause before Taehyung slowly questions,

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I feel queasy.”

“Ah. And that’s what we call a self-fulfilling prophecy, miss stomachache.”

“Shut up,” you groan. “But I just wanted to tell you first, since you worked so hard to cover for me.”

“Be my guest, babe. I just look like a ride or die. And you already agreed to get me food.”

“Okay.”

“Good luck.”

You hang up before looking at the threads you hastily apologized in earlier, wondering which one of them to call. Anyone would be a good choice. But anyone could also be a terrible one.

Ugh.

Your fingers flex and curl, and you start to play with your nails while lost in thought.

But you finally decide and click on the top message to fake fairness, turning to bury your head in your pillow and hide from possible horrible outcomes.

bibi’s whore: Outgoing Call

Your name immediately crunches through your receiver.

“Oh my god, are you okay? We were so worried!”

Lifting your head, you groan, “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“As long as you’re all good.”

“I am.”

“Okay, good. Tae told us—”

“He lied.”

“What?”

A swallow lodges in your throat. This is harder than you expected, but you keep pushing through. “He covered for me.”

“...The hell does that mean?”

Well. It’s now or never. Hopefully she will understand. Or yell at you. Ugh.

Sitting up, you confess to your phone screen, “I… I may or may not be seeing someone.”

A screech on the other line makes you jump, and you fight a wide grin of surprise.

“Bitch! I believed you and everything!”

Why were you so worried? Of course they would be elated. Your friends have been encouraging you to get around more anyway, so this reaction is one you should’ve expected.

The taboo of it being Yoongi just kept you from thinking anything positive would come out of this. If you weren’t so giddy you would be gritting your teeth in pure frustration.

Pleasant shock pumping through your veins, you cover your forehead. “I know, I’m sorry. I just froze!”

“I get it, I get it. Did you tell the others yet?”

“No, but don’t tell just anyone. Only you three can know. I’m just too tired to do this two more times.”

“Who is it? Do we know them? Is it J—”

“It is not him, but. This is all you get for now,” you lie while doused in a strange cocktail of relief and embarrassment, sticking with your earlier decision. You feel a lot better about this fib, since they’ll know part of the truth. “Just in case it falls through.”

“Mmm, that means the sex is fucking fire.”

“Reia!”

“What! I can hear it in your voice, babe. Shit, you might be in love.”

You scoff at your window, noticing that it’s way past sunset already. “As if.”

“But I get it. Sorry if we pressured you into spilling.”

“Are you kidding? I felt guilty the entire day. I love y’all too much.”

“Awhh… Don’t even worry about that. We’ve all been there. Yuri’s still sneaking around with that one guy even though she won’t admit it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And you know Dom and I are leaving our options open. Everyone’s got their own shit to deal with. So you do you.”

Sighing, you play with your comforter, noticing how it’ll never be as soft and comforting as Reia. You can’t believe you worried all damn day for virtually nothing.

This whole overthinking thing is starting to get terribly old.

Huffing, you don’t know how else to express your gratitude other than a sincere, “Thank you.”

“Of course! Are you seeing them again tonight?”

“…Maybe.”

A giggle punctures your phone.

“Just say yes, you sneaky bitch.”

“Yes.” You pause with a smile. “And yeah, it’s fucking fire.”

“I knew it! Is it the same guy from last year? Fuck you!”

“I’m not saying anything!”

“Gotta be. You didn’t say who that was, either.”

It’s true. While you told them about your mind-blowing encounter with Yoongi, you never disclosed a name. All they know is that you practically got your back blown out, and you won’t forget their shouts and praise and scoffs at your implied decision to keep it a one night stand.

If only they knew that decision wasn’t exactly yours.

“About time you got another proper dick down. Wait, it is a guy, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Ha! That narrows it down.”

“Damn it.”

“I’ll find out eventually love you bye!”

“Bye,” you say through a grin, feeling multitudes lighter than you had in awhile.

Thank god. Or whoever or whatever’s out there. You owe them a drink.

Exhausted, you flop back onto your pillow with a whoosh.

Two calls is more than enough to drain your social battery, but you wanna make one more.

After all, you feel a hell of a lot better about seeing Yoongi again. The urge is so strong that you feel like calling him just because.

But when his phone rings a few times without an answer, you hang up and watch your ceiling, awake and cocooned in your blanket.

You can wait however long. Your mind is so much clearer now.

To your immediate surprise, Yoongi calls you back within minutes, voice wary after you greet him.

“You okay?”

You smile. Of course that’s his first concern. If you hadn’t confessed just a few moments ago, your answer would have been completely different. “Much better. But you’re busy so I can wait.”

“You sure?”

“Ah, yeah. I’ll just be in bed.”

“Yours or mine?”

…What did he just ask?

“Oh,” you stutter out. “I’m at home.”

But are you really? Where is home lately, if he isn’t there?

And why did you just ask yourself that?

“You threw away that key, huh.”

“No!”

“Liar.”

“I have your key! I just.. I dunno. Using it when you’re not there is weird. Still feels like I’m intruding.”

A laugh.

“Then give it up.”

“What?”

“Gimme the key back. I’ll come get it tonight.”

You can practically feel his stupid grin on the other line. There’s no way he’s serious, and yet you’re affected all the same.

“…Damn you, Yoongi.”

Another laugh puffs out of him before he keeps teasing,

“What?”

“You’re so… Ugh! Fine. I’ll keep it.”

“It’s all up to you.”

“Yeah? Then I’m going over there just to lock you out.”

More hissed laughter crackles through, and you nestle into your comforter with a curve of your mouth.

“God, I love it when you’re—”

“Yoong! Hurry up, man!”

Oh, shit. That was Jungkook. He sounds…

“Yoongi!”

“Yoongi! Come back!”

You freeze.

Those voices were definitely higher in pitch. Truthfully, they were more like whines than anything.

Interesting.

There’s a muffled “Yeah, one sec!” before the receiver gets uncovered again.

“Hey, I gotta go. But I’ll be back tonight.”

“Okay…”

“Am I gonna see you?”

Well. That’s even more interesting. Your question is timid before tiptoeing out. “…Do you want to?”

“Course I do.”

You already knew what your answer would be. After all, you had left all your stuff at his place, so of course you were gonna go back at some point. But after hearing what you just heard, you needed to be sure of Yoongi’s answer. You needed to be sure if you were staying.

Appearing as unbothered as you possibly could, you respond, “Okay. I’ll be there.”

“Thank fuck.”

Damn it. You can’t help but puff at the relief in his voice. “Such a guy.” Deciding to cake on more encouragement, you fight the dark emotion in your belly while continuing, “But don’t leave until you’re done!”

“K.”

He’s there to work. Right? Yes. He wouldn’t be trying shit.

…Right?

Mind in another frenzy, you whisper, “I believe in you. You’ll finish.”

“I dunno about that, but.. Thanks, doll.”

It’s later, when you rest in a bed that’s not yours, that you busy yourself with anything to distract you from rogue thoughts. Checking for emails from the job postings, flipping on Yoongi’s television, responding to the second text your brother sent asking if you were good. All of these are temporary buffers.

But they aren’t enough.

You think about calling your other friends, wondering how Yuri or Dom reacted to the news when Rea inevitably told them minutes after getting off the phone. But you don’t wanna deal with more of that, lest you have to make up another lie.

So you decide on the ultimate distraction, a way to time travel without lifting a finger: sleeping.

Because Yoongi doesn’t show for hours.

And hours.

You don’t remember when you fell asleep, but you know that something is pulling you out of your slumber. Something warm, and soft, and feeling like you’re coming home.

With a sharp inhale, you fling your eyes open to see that Yoongi’s kissing you awake, one of his hands cradling the back of your neck and his body warmth seeping into your side.

Is this a dream?

“Yoon—”

Your quick break is cut by another kiss, and you taste alcohol and citrus on his tongue before he pulls away.

“You gotta be my good luck charm or something.”

Eyes still adjusting to the dark of the room, you question, “Hmm?”

“We fucking finished.”

“Oh my god. Everything?”

Yoongi nods, his hoodie sweeping the top of your head as he leans in close.

One foot still in dreamland, you offer a smile of pride.

Holy crap, they did it. Whatever hard work they poured into that project paid off. You can already see it. “I knew you would,” you sigh, loving the way it feels surrounded by his strong embrace.

If only he didn’t smell like scents you know you can’t afford.

Remembering the voices you heard earlier, you crash back down to earth and end up six feet deep in worry.

Right. You wanted to distract yourself for a reason. You wanted to sleep away the anxiety for a reason. Because even though you and him don’t even have a solid label, you wanna know his stance. And Taehyung would tell you to figure that shit out right away, whether you’re keeping tabs on him or not.

“I dunno how,” Yoongi responds while you muster up enough courage to talk, “But you were right.”

“Naturally,” you whisper.

Say something.

Keep being brave enough to tell him what’s bothering you.

No overthinking this one.

As he leans in again for another kiss, you press a hand into his chest and take the first step. “Wait.”

Yoongi stops on a dime.

Unblinking and hoping his answer is one you can take, you sigh, “Can… Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

As you speak, you watch his eyes dart across your face in concern. “This is so stupid. But. I heard… people, on the phone. And I smell… perfume. I know we aren’t a thing, but. I don’t think I can do this if—”

You’re lucky that Yoongi cuts in before you can finish.

“Hey. Listen.” He sits up before telling you to follow suit. When you do, he looks toward his window, expression indiscernible as he watches moonlight seep through his blinds.

Breathing in, he lowers his head before looking at the hands resting in your lap. “I don’t do that shit anymore. If I’m seeing someone, that’s it.”

You let those words coat shoulders that drop with relief, wondering if he meant that in a general way or if—

“And even if I did…” Yoongi gazes into your eyes then, and you stare at his determined pupils hiding behind dark orange bangs. “I wouldn’t do that to you. K?”

Oh. There’s a hummingbird in your ribcage, its fluttering wings stealing all the words from your mouth.

You can only nod.

“And,” he says, straightening to prop up your chin. “It’s not stupid.”

Ah. The hummingbird now has friends. Many, many friends.

“If it helps,” Yoongi continues while fighting a guilty smile, “I kinda pissed’em off.”

“Huh?” Something like a half-laugh, half-scoff shoots out of your mouth. “What did you do?”

He aims a smug look your way before reminding you why people love to hate him.

“You ever been called your friend’s name before?”

Your jaw drops before you playfully nudge his shoulder with a gasp, and Yoongi grins with his nose scrunched. “Asshole!” His breathy laughs are unbothered by your affronted, droning, “Wow.”

“I know. But it works.” He winks before moving on to another, more favorable subject. “What time are you leaving in the morning?”

“Whenever you need me to. I took tomorrow off.”

“Then stay. I’m off, too.”

Excitement bubbles up to join the adrenaline in your veins. You were hoping that was the case ever since he said they were finished, but you weren’t positive. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Blinking, you wonder why you even asked in the first place.

But then you remember: as much as you want a whole day with him, you think back to seeing him at his desk. How he used even a sliver of his alone time to work on his own music. If he wants to do that instead, you don’t want to stop him.

However, you also don’t wanna catch him off-guard again by mentioning his private business. Maybe he even forgot that you could have heard his track. So instead, you joke,

“I dunno. Thought you’d be tired of me by now.”

Yoongi regards you with a smile of disbelief, like he knows that’s what you weren’t originally going to say. But he plays along.

“Not yet,” he teases. “Lemme shower.”

With running water serving as the background to your thoughts, you psych yourself up for everything that you want to do.

Whether this is something you can pull off or not, you aren’t exactly sure. But there’s no way to know unless you try. And you want to try very, very hard.

Because Yoongi damn well deserves it.

He’s been nothing but accommodating ever since the weekend started. From making you get work done, to reassuring your chaotic mind at every pass, he’s made an impression unlike no one has before.

And honestly, he’s been this way with you long before then.

So you want to be the one to please him this time. In a way that you never have for anyone else. It’s just daunting when you know you’re about to step out of your comfort zone.

But to hell with it. You wanna do this.

Getting up, you swipe one of the shirts Yoongi left on his chair, changing into it before taking everything else off. The soft but thick material drapes over your body, and you wonder if every single thing in this apartment is just made to be as comforting as its owner.

Maybe you should spend more time wearing his baggy clothes.

Never mind all that. Focus!

Inhaling, you start to visualize your plans. Plans that were put on hold ever since this morning. With all of your day’s worries and fears resolved, the fog in your brain dissipates, allowing you to finally picture what you really want.

Hopefully it’s what Yoongi really wants, too.

Light juts in front of your feet as the bathroom door swings open, and you stand in place as he notices, “Digging through my shit now, huh?”

“No,” you assure him, bones already vibrating with anticipation at the sight of his wet hair.

And fuck, is he still wearing jewelry?

Stop! Self-control. Patience.

“This was on your chair.”

“I don’t—”

Self-control and patience be damned.

Rushing forward, you catch Yoongi off guard with quick hands to his covered chest.

“What—”

Backing him up one two three steps, you shove him onto his bed, blood pulsing at the sight of his wide eyes.

Don’t stop, keep going. You can do this.

Heart skipping beats, you tug off his shirt before you can chicken out, and Yoongi groans when you reveal that it’s the only thing you had on.

And you almost catch the way his expression switches from desire to shock, but you mount him and dive right onto his neck before you can do so.

“Fuck!”

Something stronger than adrenaline comes over you then. Something dark, and primal, and absolutely divine. Breathing in the woody scent of his body wash, you lap at his column while your hands travel everywhere. You’re so focused on attacking him that you barely register the hands gripping your ass.

“Oh, fuck, doll,” Yoongi moans as you scratch down his chest, jerking his head back with a hard hiss when you pinch his nipple.

Enveloped by lust, you let instinct guide your actions, pushing up to nip his ear while clutching his throat. A suck here, a tug of his hair there. Pinching, whispering his name, squeezing your thighs—every single movement seems to break him down while lifting you up.

And you finally get the chance to tell him what’s about to happen.

“Lemme get a cond—”

“Uh uh.”

When he stills underneath you, your bare chest slides down his front as you explain,

“My turn.”

It’s simple. It’s concise.

But Yoongi is smart enough to get what you mean, and a rough hum rips from his core as he watches you slowly sink between his knees.

When you hit the floor, you realize.

It’s almost been a year since you’ve been in this position.

You want to show Yoongi what he had been missing.

But as your eyes shift up to see him already watching you, you’d like to think he already knows.

Propped up on his elbows, Yoongi leers down at your determination, wet locks still dripping water onto his smooth cheekbones. Underneath his shirt, you can see all the little tics of his pecs, his abs—tiny jolts in the aftermath of your storm.

As much as you want to keep playing with the upper half of him, you continue in your quest, mouth salivating when you slip his sweatpants down bit by agonizing bit.

God, how you want to be able to watch his reactions while you have him shoved down your throat. But you’ll make do with one pleasure at a time.

Starting with the cock that springs in front of your face.

Damn.

Impatient, you don’t waste time in taking his velvety girth in your palm, missing how it felt in your fingers and wanting it buried deep inside you for hours.

Fucking hell. Out of all the dicks you’ve held in your lifetime, his is undoubtedly your favorite. In fact, you vaguely remember being upset at its perfection, hating how every part of the one man out of reach has the power to destroy you.

You want that power, too: bringing Min Yoongi to his proverbial knees.

Well. You’re sure as hell gonna fucking try.

With one full, wet swipe along his length, you already see him thump back onto his mattress, hips flinching and fists gathering bunches of his sheet.

Pleased, you take his tip in your awaiting mouth, lifting your head mid-suck to tug on him more. Intentionally, you release him with a sound you’ve perfected by watching videos you will never disclose.

And it seems to resonate with Yoongi, for a dark laugh rumbles between sealed lips as a large hand palms the top of your head.

“You nasty girl.”

Licking around his tip while squeezing the base, you give him a teasing suck before releasing with another perfect pop. Sliding your fingers to gather your saliva, you coat the rest of him before lapping at his balls.

His control.

It’s slipping.

You can tell from the breathy laughs he puffs to the ceiling. A slew of incoherent words tumbles after, and you decide that you quite like him like this. Like he finally doesn’t know what to say.

Mirroring something you remember Yoongi torturing you with, you admit,

“You taste so fucking good.”

A deep hum is your only response, and you take that as a cue to keep going, tilting your head to swirl around his cock. Your own essence coats your cheeks as you feast, alternating between slurps and licks that travel along his veins.

From experience, you’ve learned how to judge reactions, how to tell what guys prefer or not. But all of those other times? You were never invested enough to truly care. If they never cared to pay attention to what you liked, then why bother?

But Yoongi cares. Sometimes, you wonder if he cares more than you do.

So you pay extra attention to how he reacts, and you make sure to understand enough to heighten his pleasure to its zenith.

Immediately, you pick up on the fact that he likes when you squeeze his sack. But also, it seems that he’s aroused by all the sounds you’re making in general.

You almost laugh. While you aren’t normally loud unless Yoongi wants you to be, this is where you won’t quiet down unless he stops you.

But you aren’t the only one filling the room with vulgar noises.

Beautiful hisses spring over your head, only to be joined by moans as you swallow more of his cock with each pass. He palms your scalp with a hand, trying his damned best to let you decide how much of him to take in.

So you give him permission, knowing he’d catch on to the taps you make on his thigh.

When your eyes travel up his body, you can see him lifting his head to watch, and he looks to you for one more nod of consent.

You pause your sucks to give him one, slathering your tongue around his shaft before taking him in again.

Yoongi’s groans are deep when he pushes your head down, and you feel your mouth stretch wide around his cock. When the tip knocks the back of your throat, you gag on instinct, expecting the moan that comes right after.

“Fuck, baby…”

You can go lower, so you let him push you down a little further, unfazed by the way your throat aches to accommodate his girth. Tears start to collect in your eyes, but you don’t mind those either, having done this many times before.

For Yoongi, you’ll deal. To hear the way he slurs your name, you’ll deal.

Your breath cuts at a certain point, but you sacrifice it to prove you can take him all in. And when your nose brushes his pelvis, Yoongi’s outright moan is already worth the gamble on your lungs.

Mercifully, you’re tugged all the way off his cock in a single motion, gasping for air as strings of saliva connect your mouth to his sex.

“You’re so fucking good at this. What the fuck.”

Mouth coated in spit, you nod with little shame, cunt pulsing at the satisfied groan that it gets in return.

Yoongi’s voice is filled with lust and gravel when he grits out, “God, I wanna fuck that throat.”

“Do it,” you rasp with lidded eyes, smirking at the way he looks at you with disbelief. Replicating what he had said to you before, you croak, “This is about you.”

“You sure, doll?”

Heart beating a bit quicker at his concern, you hum in confidence. Your fingers tap his thigh when you respond, “I’ve done it before.”

A strange look comes over Yoongi’s face then, and you don’t know why he sits all the way up to kiss you. But you and your throat welcome the short reprieve, and he breathes through his nostrils before pulling away.

Just like that, the look vanishes, replaced by shadows and desire and impatience.

“Then gimme that dirty mouth.”

Lost in his blown out eyes, you obey. But before he can even take over, you start a relentless pace, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks until they throb.

It’s enough to make him stutter in his movements, and a hand pulls you up before he chuckles, “Breathe first, babe.”

Blinking, you realize, “Oh, shit. Yeah.”

Seeing Yoongi’s full grin while in the midst of pleasure?

That has to be one of your favorite things.

“Okay,” you nod, only slightly embarrassed. “Ready.”

He only hisses out laughter while tilting his head back. “What are you doing to me…”

You don’t respond. Because you don’t know. But you wanna keep satisfying this man until he melts in your mouth, so you take his tip in to change the topic.

This time, you give Yoongi complete control of your head, noticing that he starts with slow but full strokes. As he groans, you mewl when his other hand skirts over one of your breasts, causing him to quicken his pace.

Concentrate. Loosen your throat. Breathe through your nose. All of these thoughts invade your mind as Yoongi thrusts in deeper and quicker, and your column bears the onslaught as tears roll down your cheeks in rivers.

The sounds you make are far from innocent, and they serve as the moving line over Yoongi’s constant reactions.

You don’t remember him being this vocal.

But you’re starting to understand why he likes pleasuring you so much.

It aches like hell, but you want nothing but to keep going. You’re okay. With a hand gripping his thigh, you slacken your aching jaw and revel in the waves of curses washing over your naked back. You almost traverse into another plane entirely, eyes slitted and strings of drool slipping from your lips.

Suddenly, you’re tugged up again, a long gasp escaping your numb mouth and eyes practically rolled back. Wheezing, you gulp in breaths like water, feeling air on the spit that accumulated on your chest.

Holy fuck, how drenched are you? You’re too dizzy to comprehend, let alone hear anything he’s saying.

A hand makes its way to your cheek, the veiny back caressing your sweaty skin all the way down to your sore jaw. When he cradles your lolling chin in his sweaty fingers, you slowly open your eyes to be pinned by a look so dark you would think he was possessed.

And you have never seen him look so hungry.

But you can’t mull over it for too long. Not because you feel thoroughly fucked out—though that contributes a good chunk of it—but because his wish shoots through you like lightning,

“Gonna come all over that pretty face.”

Fuck.

Even though you want that, too, it wasn’t the plan you had in mind.

Shaking your head, you move his hand away and give him a lopsided smile. “Not this time.”

Yoongi’s new expression is adorable, but you waste no time in clarifying—not without a slight hint of shyness,

“I want it somewhere else…”

Yoongi furrows his brows impossibly deep, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. “Where, baby girl.”

Lowering yourself back down, you answer,

“My mouth.”

“The fuck,” he groans, eyes shutting as you seize command again.

Your hands and mouth cover him completely—sucking, pumping, twisting. You feel him twitching with an impending explosion, and you rake your nails down one of his thighs before moving them right to his balls.

More curses shoot from his mouth as he arches his back higher than before, and you know he’s close before he even tells you.

With one last thought, you clutch his sack with one hand while reaching up to twist one of his nipples, wanting every bit of his pleasure to come from you and you alone.

And you moan around him when it works like a charm.

Nothing but your name rips from his throat as he spills into your mouth, hot and milky and distinguishable on your tongue. Spurt after spurt paints your cavern, and you love the way his cock twitches with each angry release.

It’s yours. All yours yours yours and you claim it with a possessiveness you will deny in the morning. Globs slide down your gullet, and you twirl your tongue to gather everything you missed.

Above you, Yoongi’s body locks, fists solid and creating taut mountain peaks out of his sheets. When you suck through his orgasm, a long, guttural moan is blocked by his closed lips, and he flexes his arms forward, feline and feral.

You already know you can never have Yoongi, no matter what.

But this Yoongi—flustered, out of control, and fucked out of his mind—is the Yoongi you want all to your fucking self.

Breathing hard and watching him come, you’re positive that he is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your life.

Finally, with one last exhale, his high passes. And a realization floods your mind.

Holy fuck.

You just swallowed Yoongi’s cum.

Nothing but shaky breaths fill the room, and you take time to steady your pulse and relax your aching throat. Fuck, it’s gonna be sore. Damn, you’re lucky that you have tomorrow off because—

Something causes you to snap your gaze upward.

And any breaths you were going to take cease.

Because there have been many significant snapshots in your life, some of them only involving yourself, your friends, and more recently the very man in front of you.

But this moment? With you stripped bare and on your knees while he worships you from above?

Something in you clicks.

And clicks hard.

Yoongi’s voice has never been hoarser as he commands, “Open that goddamn mouth.”

You oblige, tongue out and all.

“Fuck.” He snags your chin with force, and the fervor with how he growls sends sparks along your skin,

“Come here. Get the fuck up.”

Bubbling with mirth, you rush to mount him as he hoists you by the arms, and you kiss him square on the lips with punished knees digging into his forgiving mattress. Fuck, the bends in your legs are sore. But you’ll live.

Yoongi seizes the back of your head and looks at you, clenching his fingers with words on the tip of his tongue. But he says nothing in the end, simply shaking his head and kissing you one more time.

Everything you wanted to happen happened.

And you’d like to think he enjoyed it just as much as you did, so you can now sleep peacef—

“Get up.”

“Huh?”

“Sit up.”

Confused, you wince at the sting in your legs as you’re situated in his bare lap. As your entrance rests right against his cock, both of you groan while most likely thinking the same thing.

“What are you doing,” you whisper, watching his complete look of satisfaction at how ragged your voice sounds. The pout you make only widens his smile.

Instead of responding verbally, Yoongi reaches behind his neck to unclasp one of his chains. And you don’t know where things are going until your heartbeat jumps ten paces.

Because he slips the silver necklace around your neck before taking off the heavier one, admiring the view when both of them rest against your slippery chest.

What…?

What is he doing?

This feels borderline intimate.

It’s enough to render you speechless, and you can only breathe as he runs his fingers along the links, the back of his hand brushing the side of your breast.

“They look much better on you.”

You still don’t know what the hell to say, feeling a lovely weight on your neck and an enchanting burden in your chest.

“Hey,” Yoongi whispers, lifting your chin. “You okay?”

“Oh. More than okay,” you admit. “I just…”

When you see him tilt his head and wait for your answer, you finally notice that you’re unbothered. Truly unbothered. About today, about your friends, about what you heard on the phone.

But more importantly, you’re unbothered about being naked in front of him. You aren’t thinking about how you look, or how he thinks you look. All you’ve been focused on this entire time has been him, and you haven’t had this much fun in the bedroom. Ever.

“I’m really happy right now,” you finally beam, and you want to bottle the feeling you have in your heart and shelve it for every rainy day you’ll ever live through.

Right next to the bottle that keeps the look in Yoongi’s eyes.

You yelp as he suddenly tugs on his chains to pull you forward, and your lips are captured in a way that has your toes curling.

Before you know it, you’re being lowered onto rumpled sheets, and a pair of fingers between your legs jolts you upwards. “Yoongi?”

“Who said we were done?”

“But this was about you,” you gasp as you feel his fingers slide up your dripping folds with more pressure.

“I know. This is still for me.”

What the hell? You were already set on not receiving anything tonight. If anything, you could take care of yourself after he passed out. So what’s he doing? Why is he saying this is for him? “How?”

“I love seeing you like this.”

You can only blink. “...Really?”

“Yeah. And I love seeing you come.”

“You do?“

Yoongi’s gaze lands on the jewelry resting on your chest. “So fucking much.”

“Oh,” is all you can muster, lust coming back with a vengeance and twisting your core.

And you wait until his eyes travel upwards, slowly but surely, until they connect with yours. “Let’s see how many times you got, dirty girl.”

Oh, fuck.

“Yoongi…”

He shifts to sit up, ordering you to change positions as he slips his sweatpants back on. “Slide up here for me.”

Obeying, you wince at the discomfort in your knees as you make your way to the head of his mattress.

Yoongi joins you immediately, his warmth pressing deliciously into your side. With a flick of his chin, he continues, “Hands under the headboard. Uh huh.”

Well. You didn’t expect this. And you’re ten times more excited for what’s in store for you, especially since Yoongi decided to keep all of his clothes on. The pretty tension has you thrumming with heat and nerves.

Instead of going between your legs, he starts with fingers to your mouth. “Open up one more time, doll.”

You gladly take two of his digits in like you were built for it, slathering your tongue all over them and humming at the quick curse at your ear.

“So filthy,” he chuckles through a smile. As he slides his fingers out, he rubs them over your lips before clutching your chin. “I fucking love it.”

You bite your lip before you can help it, knowing you won’t be prepared for anything he’s going to do to you.

And you quickly learn how right you are.

Yoongi seizes complete command of your body, fingering you at the perfect pace while latching lips onto your neck. Both movements cause you to tense up, your palms pressing into the bottom of his headboard and your back arching.

Shit, it already feels so good and it��s only been seconds!

Your legs are forced more open before Yoongi dips his digits in again, sliding up your drenched walls and laughing derisively at your throat.

“Sucking me off got you this wet, huh?”

Whimpering, you can only nod, shifting your hips to feel more of the friction he’s giving. You don’t know how aroused he looks as he watches your bouncing chest, but you do hear what he whispers. Because it emblazons itself on your neck.

“What a whore.”

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you whine, thoroughly turned on and shuddering at the way his laughs slide down your column. Shameful, you admit to yourself that you can listen to him talk like that for hours.

When he suddenly slaps your cunt, you lose it, feeling the strain in your body as a moan tries to escape your clenched teeth.

Holy fuck, how are you already this close? Did you really attain this amount of arousal just by giving him head? You knew you were outright delighted but damn, his fingers see no resistance at all.

The silver around your neck slides a little towards your collarbone. As you wonder why he decided to don you with his chains, Yoongi takes advantage and leans down, latching lips onto one of your nipples and pulling a moan from your throat.

“Oh, my god.”

You want to throw your hands around his neck. Dig your fingers in his angry locks. But the way your hands grip the headboard, you’re too afraid to let go. They feel permanently welded, and you can only tighten them as you thrash underneath him.

He fucking knows it, too, taking his time to lick around your breast before nicking again. And with so many sparks filling your body to the brim, you already see the edge. It’s so close close close and you’re trying to get the right words out to tell him.

He has the audacity to laugh, staccato puffs in your ear. “I feel you sucking me in. You can’t hide, baby girl.”

“Fuck,” you gasp, knowing he’s completely right. But you can’t help it. Your body wants every inch of his and the friction is feeding the thrums in your core.

Yoongi suddenly grabs the back of your neck, holding you in place and causing your jaw to slacken.

“Whose pussy is this?”

What the fuck! You didn’t expect that. And you know how you want to answer, but your words come out ridiculously slurred from lust.

“What was that?”

“Yours! Oh, fuck…”

“Mmhmm.” With one final stroke, he agrees, “All mine.”

Pure light wipes your vision as you come, groaning through your lips as your body snaps into place. Your arms are taut, straining as you squeeze his headboard like a lifeline. Over and over and over, your cunt clenches around Yoongi’s fingers, and he hums above you, long and rough.

It doesn’t matter that you end up a panting mess, nor does it matter that your legs are yelling to be closed. Because he’s already keeping an agonizing pace on your throbbing walls without reprieve.

“Yoongi!”

“You wanna be a cumslut so bad? Prove it.”

“Fuck—”

“Taking my dick and my fingers so well.” He slaps your cunt again, and the squelch it makes will embarrass you even days later. “Still such a whore for me.”

Fuck!

You don’t know why the hell that turns you on, but it does. Goddamn, it does, and he knows how much it affects you by the way you milk his fingers despite already coming.

He laughs even deeper this time, and it sends shivers down your chest all the way to your toes. Watching the way you writhe beneath him, he goads, “That’s it, doll. Fuck, I love seeing you in my shit.”

“Yoong—”

“Almost wanna show you off.”

Damn, you want that, too. Holy shit, you want the same thing, and just imagining that being a possibility gets you frighteningly close to another edge.

And you need the plunge. No one will take that away from you. Even him. If he edges you even once, you’ll finish your goddamn self.

“Yoongi, I’m close.”

“Then come for me, love.”

Your coil snaps again, harder than the last and making you a shuddering mess. Later, you’ll think about what he said, but your mind is completely void for now. Tears start leaking out of your ducts from the onslaught of pleasure wracking your bones, and you let out a quick sob from feeling so overwhelmed.

Yoongi’s saying things in your ear again, but you really can’t discern them. Praises, insults, anything in between—you don’t know. All you know is that your brain is exploding with lust and satisfaction and you don’t know when the high will ever subside.

But, after an eternity and a half, you start to float back onto soft, damp sheets. Your muscles relax bit by bit, and the fingers above your head unlatch from the dark wood of his headboard.

Fuck. Your hands hurt. But you slowly close them to combat the strain.

With your eyes slipped shut, you’re surprised to feel Yoongi’s lips on yours, inhaling shock through your nose at the second stolen kiss of the night. Instead of your palms, you reach to place your wrists on his shoulders, twisting your body to press fully into his front.

His heartbeat…

It might be quicker than yours.

Softly, one of your hands is cradled in his fingers before your palm is rubbed with care. One circle, then another, and another. Voice so deep that it’s more of a rumble than a sentence, Yoongi asks, “Do they hurt?”

“A little,” you admit. “But you’re helping.”

“Okay.”

You don’t know what time it is, but you don’t exactly care. It could be any hour of any day and you would still banish the rest of the world from your mind. Because it only exists in this moment. With him massaging your hand while carrying tiny moons in his eyes.

He’s ethereal.

“You don’t have to stay tomorrow.”

Blinking hard, you struggle to comprehend what Yoongi just said.

What? What did he mean by that?

Your heart rushes up your bruised throat before you squeak out, “Why not?”

Yoongi kisses your forehead. “Your friends on your case. Spend time with them. Don’t worry just cus of me.”

Oh. He doesn’t know that you took care of that.

Why does he have to be so considerate? This doesn’t make things easy.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, reaching with your free hand to cradle his cheek. “I was gonna see them… But after this week, since…”

He just watches you.

“Things’ll go back to normal.”

Yoongi darts his eyes across your face, silent. When he only nods, a piece of you breaks, but you try your hardest not to let him see it.

There won’t be time for walks, or water fights, or waking up to his arm around your waist. Because this week reserved a pocket universe in time—a space just for the two of you to have. And it’s one you truly don’t ever want to leave.

From the way that Yoongi claims your lips, you want to think he feels the same. It’s at least nice to keep pretending.

But you know he’s doing it to make you feel better, though it devastates you all the same.

Because a week is quickly not becoming enough. You want more time. You need it.

Yoongi stops with a breath, and runs a hand along the side of your head.

“Get some rest, doll.”

“You, too.”

“I will,” he whispers. “And listen. About tomorrow.”

“Hmm?”

He stares at you just a bit longer, caressing your cheek and keeping his mouth shut.

It’s strange. You’ve only been able to read him a few times before. But now, you’re sure that you see a thousand thoughts run across his eyes, and they remind you of meteor showers you used to watch outside when you were young. When life wasn’t complicated. When the furthest thing from your mind was a broken heart.

But at his next words, your heart swells.

And you don’t need to worry about it breaking just yet.

“I’m all yours.”

…Maybe Reia was right.

tbc. :)

A/N: ahhh. so. how did it go? LOL i feel like it’s been so long since Stay, but it’s only been two-ish months. whoa! also.. typing with acrylics should be an olympic sport and if you do this regularly you have my utmost respect LOLL that shit was so hard while writing a majority of this chapter! A/N 2: as always, thank you so much for all of the support. whether you’re new, or an OG, i truly appreciate you being here and going on this journey with me and the 3tan crew. and for the people wanting angst, welp. here’s a glimpse of what that entails dkldkjdjf see you all in “the week, pt. 2!” ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ ⇥ masterlist

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 4 years

Text

I Don’t Like A Gold Rush || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: Jungkook is the golden boy, an excellent student, the star of you college's football team. Rumor has it, there's simply nothing he can't do. The same cannot be said about you, but you've never had an issue with that. You're happy with your small group of friends and your lack of talent in sports. And then, Jin befriends Jungkook, and you find yourself spending a lot of time with him. Before you know it, you've taken an interest in him — and you're sure you shouldn't. There's no way this can end well for you... right?

Also available on Ao3.

Word count: 17.3k

Genre: College AU, strangers to lovers, slice of life, mostly fluff

Warnings & Tags: discussed insecurities, alcohol consumption, reader almost has a panic attack at some point, shy jungkook, jungkook is bad at Feelings, Reader is bad at feelings too, mutual pining kinda, Jungkook has long hair, sfw, New Year’s Day themed.

A/N: I don’t know how I would name my stories without Taylor Swift. Anyway, this is more or less centered around the New Year (it was supposed to be more and then... it didn’t happen), and I hope you’ll enjoy it! Happy New Year everyone!

The first time you hear Jungkook’s name, it’s in the sentence “Man, is there anything Jungkook can’t do?”. You look up at your friend Jin from the book you’re studying. You have no idea who Jungkook is, but that doesn’t mean anything. Jin is always complaining about how you don’t know anyone on the campus, which you think is quite unfair.

…but then you really don’t know that many people on the campus.

“What’s going on?” you ask him, because he sounds extremely annoyed, and he shows you his phone. On it, there is a score for a basketball game. You think.

Your college is famous for its basketball team… Right?

“Uh-uh,” you still say with a nod, trying to make it look like you have any idea what you’re talking about.

“This kid is crushing it at school, the girls love him, and now this!” Jin complains, a little too loud, and shushing noises come from a spot behind you. You turn around to give the group an apologetic look. “I really shouldn’t have bet against him.”

Ah, there you know what to say.

“You really need to stop making bets. You never win them.”

Jin glares at you.

“And you are a terrible friend. You’re supposed to comfort me!”

“I’ll comfort you when you stop making the worst choices imaginable,” you mutter, going back to your work. Jungkook’s name, his supposed excellence, and that basketball match — if it even is basketball — leave your mind as fast as they entered it, without leaving a trace behind.

“So the school’s won another basketball game, huh?”

You look up at Namjoon who’s just arriving to the table, holding his tray in his hands. You know he can’t possibly be talking to you about that, so you’re not surprised when Jin appears behind him. That doesn’t stop you from throwing Namjoon a disgusted look.

“Really, Joon? Sports?”

Namjoon shoots you an amused glance from behind his glasses. It’s notorious in your friends’ group that you despise conversations around that subject. You hate anything that involves objects flying around and anything that’s played in a team, and, apparently, those are the only sports that people care about. They could discuss athletics, or swimming, which you wouldn’t enjoy but you wouldn’t hate, but that never happens.

“You were right, Jin. That Jungkook guy really is impressive.”

You tune them out. You don’t care about basketball.

“You’re talking about yesterday’s game?” Yoongi asks, coming out of thin air, and you sigh. You had been hoping you would have at least one person to talk to during lunch.

“Jungkook’s friends with Hoseok,” Jin says, leaning forward conspiratorially, which does get your attention. If that’s true, then that Jungkook guy can’t be a completely terrible person. Hoseok is probably the nicest person you’ve ever met.

That being said, he might have very low standards for his friends. You know him enough to appreciate him, not to judge his tastes.

“So I’m going to become friends with him,” Jin announces triumphantly, only to be rewarded by a chorus of groans and protests.

“But why, Jin?” you ask. “Please don’t talk about popularity. This isn’t high school anymore.”

“And that stuff was already stupid back then,” Namjoon adds, and you nod. You can always count on Namjoon to support you.

“And I hate people,” Yoongi says.

“And Yoongi hates people!” Namjoon immediately picks up. “Do you really want to make him go through that?”

You grin at the question. Yoongi’s misanthropy always comes in handy. Jin, however, is not amused, but he just shakes his head disapprovingly. He’s used to the three of you teaming up against him by now. Usually, it’s on academical subjects, but he isn’t phased by it anymore regardless of that. Not that there’s much that can phase Jin anyway.

“First of all, I said I was going to be his friend, not you lowly peasants, and second, he seems like a nice guy! Do I need another reason to want to make friends?”

You tilt your head.

“He’s protesting too much,” you say.

“I agree,” Namjoon nods. “That’s suspicious.”

“Very suspicious.”

“Come on,” Jin rolls his eyes, “do you really think that little of me?”

“And now he’s trying to guilt-trip us. Joon, can’t you analyze that conversation and figure out what it all means?”

“You know that’s not how literary analysis works, right?” Jin asks you, but you ignore him.

“Actually, it is,” Namjoon says, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “I’d say you were right with your comment,” he adds, looking at you. “I’d say… this is about parties.”

“You’re not going to actually believe—”

“Thanks, Joon,” you say, and the two of you high-five without looking at each other. Yoongi lets out an appreciate whistle.

Even if Namjoon and you aren’t being serious about this, parties actually make sense. Jin… isn’t quite a social butterfly but, unlike the three of you, he does enjoy people’s company to some degree. You know first hand that he’s been to a few this year — you had accompanied him for moral support — but they were pretty tame, and you’re aware that he at least wants to try some more intense stuff. The problem was that those were harder to be invited to. Hoseok could probably do something about it, but he tends to avoid parties on campus.

“Okay, then you should go for it,” you nod.

Yoongi and Namjoon, sitting on either side of you, approve. Jin looks a little surprised at your reaction.

“That changed your mind?”

“You said you wanted ‘the full college experience’,” Namjoon explains with a shrug. “If you think that’s part of it, we wouldn’t want to hold you back.”

“We will judge you for it, though,” Yoongi warns without batting an eyelid, pokerface perfect, and you laugh. You won’t be mean about it, of course. You just might tease him a little.

“Thank you,” Jin says. “I’ll do it, then.”

Good. If you’re lucky, it will be out of his system next time you all have lunch together.

Lady luck had never been on your side, for as long as you could remember. It wasn’t like you got the worst of things either, but usually, things that could go wrong, did go wrong. Because of that, you tried your best to remove those things from your path. Sometimes, though, you just didn’t manage to identify them.

And that’s why, when you hear Jin’s voice and look up from your food, being the first at the table as always, you see he’s accompanied by two people.

One of them has fluffy, dark brown hair, falling on either side of his face and in his eyes. He’s talking and laughing, and there’s something that you can’t help but identify as mischievous in his smile. The other is slightly taller, with jet black hair held up in a bun. He’s quiet, mouth opening for silent laughs when his friend jokes. Between them, there’s Jin, and you think that they look good together. All handsome, all holding themselves with confidence.

You had realized before that Jin felt out of place in your group, from an outside point of view at least, but it’s never been as striking as it is now, as he’s walking with people he clearly belongs with.

It makes you really thankful that he’s your friend.

“Hey,” Jin says, smiling widely, “these are—”

“You’re untying your hair before eating?” you say, looking at the guy with the bun who just sat opposite from you and took off his hair tie with a sigh. He looks up at you with wide round eyes, like you just caught him red-handed — doing what, you’re not quite sure.

That is the first thing you ever say to Jeon Jungkook.

“Um. Yes?”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get hair in your food?”

You know people find you too blunt sometimes, think you come off as aggressive, but you almost never intend for that to happen. In that case, you just think the logic here is a bit surprising.

“That’s… a good point, actually.”

“(Y/N),” Jin sighs, “let me introduce you to Jungkook” (he points to the man who’s now tying his hair back up) “and Taehyung.” (he points to the other guy, who’s flashing you a smile.)

“Oh,” you say, looking back at Jungkook. “You play basketball.”

He lets out an awkward laugh and avoids your eyes. Instead, he grabs his fork and focuses on it, twirling it in his hand.

“Yeah, I do— I do that.”

Huh. It takes you a second to piece things together, and you think Namjoon will be of great help once he’ll be there, but for now, one conclusion comes to you.

Jungkook is shy.

“I play basketball too,” Taehyung says, leaning over the table, grinning at you, and you can tell that it’s his way of swooping in to save Jungkook. You can appreciate that.

“She hates basketball,” Jin warns.

“That’s a strong word,” you say, but only half-heartedly, because, well, you definitely don’t like it.

“I think it works.”

“You think what works?”

Jin’s face falls while you grin. If Taehyung is Jungkook’s savior, Namjoon is yours. Your friend sends you a questioning look as he sits next to you, facing Taehyung. He gives polite nods to the two basketball players, like they sit with you at lunch every week, but you notice that he doesn’t quite meet their eyes. Namjoon is not particularly shy, nor a misanthrope like Yoongi, he just isn’t too comfortable around people he’s just met.

You and Jin, well, you’re perhaps a little too comfortable. Not everyone likes it.

“He says I hate basketball.”

“But that would imply you care about basketball.”

“Exactly.”

“And you don’t.”

“I know.”

“Which means you don’t hate basketball. As always, you’re wrong, Jin.”

Jin looks extremely, extremely done with you, but when you and Namjoon high-five, Jungkook laughs quietly and Taehyung nods in appreciation — for the gesture, not the debate.

That is the moment when Yoongi drops his tray on the table and sends a weird glance towards Taehyung and Jungkook.

“What did I miss?” he asks. His tone is a bit dry, and you see Jin’s shoulders straightening. He knows Yoongi is going to be the most difficult one to win over. Not that you’ve been won over yet, but you’re not that difficult. Usually, people don’t like you, not the other way around. You don’t blame them. You’re not sure you’d like yourself very much if you were in their place.

“Oh,” Jungkook says spontaneously, “we had a class together last year! You’re majoring in engineering, right?”

Yoongi looks at him. His eyes are shining with suspicion, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. Knowing him, he’s definitely wondering why Jungkook would even remember him.

“Right,” he finally confirms, slowly.

There’s a moment of silence, which Namjoon breaks.

“I’m a literature major, by the way.”

“That’s really cool,” Jungkook comments honestly, with the same spontaneity he displayed earlier.

“And I’m in mathematics,” you say.

“Wow. I thought you people existed only in legends,” Taehyung says while Jungkook avoids your eyes. You decide that, yeah, you like Kim Taehyung.

“Don’t say that, I like maths,” Jungkook protests, voice soft, much to your surprise — and, judging by his reaction, Taehyung’s.

You were right, you decide. Jungkook is not a completely terrible person.

You didn’t expect it to become a routine, for Jungkook and Taehyung to eat with you guys, but it does, and as time goes on, other people join your little table. You’re not sure you like that. It’s clear that those people are orbiting around Jungkook, which, good for them, but you don’t see why you need to be there for that.

You do see that Jungkook is not completely comfortable with all of it. He’s good at handling people, good at making jokes and at laughing at the right times, you notice, but there is a stiffness in his shoulders more often than not, and it looks like he’s well-trained at it rather than enjoying it. It kind of reminds you of Jin, except Jin is not as quiet the rest of the time. Taehyung obviously does his best not to let his friend deal with things alone, which is sweet, but he can’t do everything for him.

You barely exchange a word with Jungkook during that time period. You’re usually trying to be forgotten when the table is buzzing with noise, finding refuge in Namjoon and Yoongi’s company. You thought Yoongi would be an ally in reclaiming what’s always been your spot, but it quickly becomes obvious that he has a crush on Taehyung’s friend Jimin, so he never complains about the recent invasion of the table by strangers.

You hear a lot of basketball vocabulary. More than you care for, to be honest. That’s one of the few moments when Jungkook’s face lights up and he gets truly excited, with an almost childish happiness. His demeanor changes, from shy to confident, and the transformation never ceases to amaze you. As soon as the conversation ends, his shoulders fall, he smiles awkwardly, and focuses back on his food or his phone.

You’ve met his eyes a few times in those moments, because he often looks around him like he’s afraid someone’s noticed. He averts his very quickly, though, so you’ve never said anything about it.

So, really, there’s not much that changes. You still only speak to your three friends — you think Taehyung is a good person, and you don’t think he hates you, but you don’t have anything to say to each other —, and sure, you have a little less space when you eat and more noise around you, but aside from that, it’s pretty much the same. You think that’s a relief. You’re not too fond of change.

Usually, you’re pretty decent at spotting it coming. You did miss it when Jin said he was going to become Jungkook’s friend, but other than that you’re able to do your best to avoid it. You don’t see anything coming the day Taehyung calls out your name, though. You look up at him from the book Namjoon is showing you, surprised. He has an arm slung over Jungkook’s shoulders, and Jungkook isn’t looking at you, of course.

“Do you think you could explain a maths-thing to Jungkook?”

You blink at him.

“What’s the ‘maths-thing’?”

“Does it matter?”

You raise an eyebrow, and Jungkook groans. You get the feeling that he didn’t really want Taehyung to ask you about it. He sends an annoyed glance to his friend, who is still smiling brightly at you, while pushing a lock of hair out of his face. His hair is tied, but this one traitorous lock always escapes.

“I’m struggling a little with probabilities,” he admits, glancing at you for half a second. “But I’m sure I’ll be fine once I can get my head back into it, I’ve just been training a lot recently and—”

“I can help you, if you want,” you say. “I’m not the most fond of probabilities, but it should be okay.”

“Great!” Taehyung says, patting his friend’s shoulder before Jungkook can answer. “You should do that then.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Jungkook asks, actually looking at you this time. You meet his eyes, notice that he looks worried about it. You can’t figure out why.

“I really don’t,” you shrug.

He smiles at you, a small, hesitant smile, but a smile nonetheless. Probably the first one he directs at you. It’s a nice sight, you decide, and you smile back.

Jin’s sentence “is there anything Jungkook can’t do” takes all its sense on the day you meet Jungkook at the library to study. You don’t know what you expected. You never thought Jungkook was dumb or anything, but since Taehyung asked you to help, you thought he would have some difficulties, at least. However, as it turns out, he either understands immediately when you explain something to him, or he’s already understood it. He asks for some clarifications here and there, but all in all, you feel kind of useless.

“You don’t need me at all,” you say after a little while, and Jungkook looks up from the book with the worried wide-eyed look you’ve gotten used to.

“No, no, you’re doing a great job,” he protests. “You’re really helping me out here.”

“No I’m not. It’s obvious that you could do that all on your own.”

He deflates a little at that, looks away from you.

“You help,” he mumbles. “I have a hard time focusing when I’m alone.”

Oh.

That makes a lot of sense to you, actually. You’re good at focusing all of your energy on one thing, perhaps even too good, to the point where you easily get obsessed and become unable to take care of anything else, but even you need the right conditions for that.

“Okay,” you say with a nod.

Jungkook gives you an anxious look.

“So you don’t mind helping me out?” he asks, and there’s something in his voice that catches you, but you can’t tell what it is exactly. Maybe it’s the hope, or maybe it’s the fear. You don’t understand what he’d be afraid of. Worst case scenario, you would say no. That wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“We can work together,” you offer. “You can ask me if you need help for anything and I’ll just work on some other stuff.”

He seems relieved, and again, you just don’t understand it. It’s not like you’re his only option. There are plenty of people out there who could help him. Plenty of people who would jump at the opportunity of helping him. You know that, because he’s always surrounded by those people, and everybody in school seems to know him. Even when you walked into the library with him earlier, before you got to the table you’re sitting at now, a few students greeted him. You don’t see why he would attach any importance to you, specifically, helping him. You barely know each other.

“Thanks,” he says, and he gives you a small smile. For some reason, that makes you drop the subject. Instead of asking about it — which, knowing yourself, you probably would have — you shrug it off and reply with a nod.

The silence that follows feels comfortable, to you at least. You’ve never minded silence. Jin hates it, though. You get to work, watching absent-mindedly as Jungkook goes through the lesson he was working on. He does ask you a couple of questions, but it’s probably to make you feel like you’re doing something rather than because he actually needs it. You still answer them, and watch him grin, satisfied with himself, when he turns out to be right every single time.

“Are you coming to Taehyung’s party this week-end?” he asks out of the blue after about an hour.

You look up, surprised. The two of you haven’t exchanged much, and certainly have not talked about anything other than— well, other than maths. His eyes are on his notebook, as usual, and you don’t get any insight as to why he asked the question.

“I don’t know. Is Jin coming?”

“Uh, I guess? Taehyung’s probably talked to him about it.”

“Then I’m probably going.”

Jungkook mulls over your answer for a few seconds, twirling his pencil between his fingers, and you feel like you have to clarify, which is not an urge you have often. Usually, you let people decipher for themselves what you meant. That works very well with Namjoon, sometimes with Yoongi, not so great with the rest of the world. Including Jin, though Jin compensates with his impressive ability to interpret everything you say in his favor.

“We always go to parties with Jin. For moral support.”

For all that you tease him, you genuinely care for him. You know he wants you to go with him, so you do. It’s as simple as that.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you, but he still smiles at what you say, and it’s— it’s interesting. There’s something about his behavior that makes you curious, like you are when you’re trying to solve a complicated equation.

“That’s nice,” he comments.

“So… you’ll be there?” you ask. It’s taken you a long time to come up with that simple question. It often takes you a long time to find things to say to keep a conversation going. You’re pretty bad at it.

“It’s at my fraternity,” Jungkook informs you, glancing at you briefly, and you smile. This is exactly the type of party Jin wanted to go to. He’s probably happy about it. “The entire basketball team should be there.”

Great. People.

“That’s nice,” you say, because you have no idea what to add at this point. Jungkook simply nods, and the conversation dies an awkward death.

It’s another half an hour until Jungkook looks at his watch and starts putting his stuff back in his bag.

“I have to go to practice,” he tells you, clearly in a hurry. “Can we— Would you mind if—”

“We can do this again. If that’s what you meant.”

He gives you a bright smile, and that actually surprises you. He looks relieved that you finished his sentence for him.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely.

And just like that, he’s gone, practically running out of the library. For someone who talks as little as he does, he sure leaves a void when he goes away, you think, looking at the empty chair.

But you quickly shrug it off. You’re used to being alone. You like being alone.

Jungkook isn’t going to change that.

You realize very quickly that, while accompanying Jin to parties was never something you particularly enjoyed, going to this one was downright a mistake.

You have this unspoken rule, with your friends, that you shouldn’t stick together the entire time. You’re supposed to wander off, find something to do for yourself, maybe talk to some people. Get that college experience. You’ve never had a problem to do that, even if you ended up quietly sipping soda in a corner more often than not.

Here, though, you simply cannot shake off the fact that you don’t belong here, that this is not your scene. The people here are loud, energetic, garish. They make you feel like a black and white picture, like a silent movie. You want to run away, but you can’t. You don’t want to leave Jin, Namjoon or Yoongi behind, even if you doubt they’re having the same kind of problems you do. You’re pretty sure you saw Yoongi talking with Jimin, and last time you saw Namjoon, you think a cheerleader was holding him by the hand and leading him out of the room. You don’t know what Jin’s doing, but you’re trusting that he’s okay.

You walk around aimlessly, find Jungkook and Taehyung playing beer-pong with some people. Maybe you should be happy to see people you know, but you’re not. If anything, it only drives the point home even more to see them so comfortable: you don’t belong here. Your chest tightens, and you turn around. You need a little peace and quiet. You need to get away.

“(Y/N)!”

You jump at the sound of your name. No one’s said it since you’ve entered the house. No one knows you here.

Except Jungkook, who’s right behind you.

He’s more confident than usual, and you guess, based on his slightly hazy eyes, that it has a lot to do with alcohol.

“Are you having fun? How long have you been here? It’s nice to see you!”

He’s speaking fast, excitedly, and as he does, he runs his fingers through his hair, which he’s let down. It looks good on him, you decide, even as you reply to him with a tense smile.

“Hey, you should join us, we’re—”

“Do you have a closet somewhere?”

Jungkook blinks.

“A closet?”

“Yeah.”

There are probably very few things that are less weird than asking a guy if he has a closet you can get into because you’re on the verge of having a panic attack and you can’t stay outside surrounded by people a second longer.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything about it, though. He just leads you through the house and opens the door to a closet for you. You get inside without giving it much more thought, and he looks at you, puzzled. He’s actually looking at you, which you decide confirms that he is drunk.

“Do you— Are you waiting for someone?”

“No,” you say. “I just need a little break.”

He thinks about your answer for a while, probably longer than needed, and nods.

And then, he gets into the closet with you and closes the door.

Inside, it’s dark, with only a ray of light coming in. You can’t see his face, which doesn’t help you understand why he just did that. The space is cramped, and you can smell alcohol coming from his breath, can feel the heat radiating from his body, but it doesn’t bother you that much. It’s still better in here than outside.

“Why did you do that?”

“I thought I would keep you company. Like you’re here to keep company to Jin, you know?”

He’s drunk, definitely, and yet you feel genuinely touched by his words. You shouldn’t, because you doubt they hold that much meaning, but you can’t help it. You don’t need company, but that’s besides the point. His intentions are what matters.

“Thank you,” you say.

“It’s not a problem. You’re helping me with my maths.”

Your first reaction is to laugh at that, because it feels completely unprompted, but then the logic of the reasoning kind of appears to you.

“I mean it!” Jungkook protests. “You haven’t talked about how I’m good at everything or how I’m the one who should help you.”

You frown.

“You shouldn’t help me. You’re good at maths, but I’m better than you.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to laugh, and just like his earlier smile, it takes you completely by surprise. It’s not one of those quiet laughs that he usually has. It’s light and pleasant, and you briefly wonder what his face looks like when he laughs like that. You kind of want to see it.

“You’re a scary person,” he tells you when he’s stopped laughing. “You always say those things directly. It’s like you don’t even care.”

You’ve heard that before. Well, you haven’t been called scary until now, but people have said that you were intimidating. You, personally, believe you’re the least threatening person to have ever walked this Earth. You couldn’t hurt a fly if you wanted to.

Jungkook makes some sense here, though. Your filter is very limited, and there are a lot of things you say that feel acceptable to you, and that other people… don’t think are acceptable. You don’t mean to do it. It just happens.

“I think you’re good at a lot of things, though,” you say slowly.

Jungkook lets out a long sigh and then you hear him sliding down to the ground. You hesitate for about half a second before joining him down there. You fold your legs, holding your knees against your chest while you wait for him to say something.

“People are always saying that,” he finally mumbles. “But what if I’m not that good? What if I fail one day?”

It’s strange. You understand what he’s saying, understand the feeling of pressure, but you don’t understand the emotions that should come with it. In your case, you know that no one holds you to a higher standard than you do. It can be unhealthy, the way you can torture yourself if you don’t meet the standards you’ve set for yourself, but at least you’re the only one you have to answer to. Obviously, it’s not Jungkook’s case.

“Then you’ll try again,” you say, because that’s what you do when you fail. “Or, if you think it’s not that important, you won’t.”

“But what will they say?” he insists. “What if we lose the next game? Or the one after that? What if I fail a class? I can’t get anything done these days.”

“You’ll be fine,” you say soothingly, half-wondering how you ended up here, comforting the college’s golden boy in a closet after fighting off a panic attack. “It’s not like you’re the only one in your team. People will understand.”

You think they will. You hope they will. They should.

“You would understand.”

It’s true, but then, you really do not care for basketball, and it’s not like you have that sort of expectations for Jungkook. You wouldn’t think much of it, if he failed at something tomorrow. If it was the maths test you’ve helped him with, you would be surprised, but that’s because you saw him studying and it was obvious he had understood everything, not because you think he can inherently succeed at everything he does.

Which you guess might be the heart of the problem here.

You reach out to put your hand on his shoulder. It’s not that easy in the dark, and you wonder for a second if you’ve grabbed something else, until you feel hair tickling your skin. Yup, you were right.

“You have the right not to be good at something every once in a while,” you say softly. “No one can be on top of their game all of the time.”

You hear what sounds like a choked sob.

“I like that they’re counting on me, you know? I like that I’m helping them out by playing. I just— I don’t know what’s going to happen when I stop being as good.”

He said when, not if, and that breaks your heart.

Without thinking about it, you slide your hand down his arm and grab his hand. You squeeze it in yours, gently, and then you inch closer to put your head on his shoulder. You remember reading that physical touch was good for people who were in emotional pain. You hope it helps him.

“You locked yourself in here with me because you thought I needed company,” you whisper. “There’s so much more to you than just being good at sports or having good grades. And if people don’t see that, it’s their loss. Because you’re a great person.”

He hums, but the sound is quiet, and it’s then that you realize how tense he is.

Shit. You must have crossed a boundary. You start to remove your hand, but he closes his fingers around yours, keeping you in place. He’s still tense, you can feel it everywhere his body touches yours. But he doesn’t let go.

“You mean that,” he says. There are so many emotions in his voice that you can’t identify them all. Relief, happiness, amusement… You don’t know where to start.

“I usually mean what I say.”

“I’ve noticed,” he says, and you can hear the smile that’s dancing on his lips.

He’s still not letting go of your hand, but you don’t mind. Staying here, with Jungkook, in this small closet is as good a way of spending your evening as anything else you could do out there.

So you stay.

“Where did you all vanish Saturday?” Jin asks, and Namjoon, Yoongi and yourself immediately find your food a lot more interesting. You exchange panicked glances that mean ‘did none of you stay around? This was poorly coordinated’ before finally daring to look up.

“I talked to Jimin,” Yoongi says, face as inexpressive as always.

“I played some beer-pong with Taehyung,” Namjoon says.

That leaves only you.

“I talked to Jungkook,” you tell Jin. That is technically true. It omits the part where the two of you were together in a closet, but if you said that, there would be a lot of questions you don’t really want to answer to. Somehow, you think you would be more embarrassed to tell them that there was nothing going on there than if you told them you hooked up with him. You’re not sure why.

“Jungkook disappeared for a long time,” Jin says, narrowing his eyes at you.

You do your best to keep a straight face while you poke at your salad. You don’t want anyone here to have the wrong idea, and you finally manage to put your finger on what you’re afraid of. Humiliation. You’d feel humiliated at having to tell them that nothing happened and that there is nothing Jungkook could possibly see in you. They would be nice to you, of course they would, but you don’t want to see the look in their eyes.

“Did he? Maybe that was after I left. I didn’t stay that long.”

That’s a lie.

“Really?” Jin asks, clearly skeptical. “I think I saw you there pretty late.”

Maybe when you went down to get some snacks and drinks to bring back to the closet. Damn Jungkook and his stomach.

“Well, that depends what you mean by ‘late’ and ‘long’,” you say.

That’s you calling Namjoon for help, and he recognizes your SOS for what it is. From the way Jin’s face falls, so does he.

“She’s right,” Namjoon comments, so nonchalant you would almost believe he’s doing it naturally. “What is ‘late’, really? Isn’t it always—”

“Please stop,” Jin groans, burying his face in his hands. “Just because you’re a literature major doesn’t mean you’re the only one who understands words.”

“Actually it does,” you say with a nod. “That’s exactly what it means.”

You start lifting your hand for a high-five, relieved Jin’s attention is off you, but he sends the two of you a dark glare.

“You two are unbearable. Don’t do that.”

“We have to,” you protest. You would hate to miss a chance to high-five Namjoon.

“No you don’t, you—”

“Actually they do,” Yoongi says, and your jaw drops. Yoongi never intervenes, and you had always thought that if he did, it wouldn’t be in your favor. “That’s exactly how gravity works.”

Jin looks like his soul has left his body. He only comes back to himself after you, Yoongi and Namjoon have all exchanged high-fives.

“I hate you,” he says, sounding terribly tired. “I hate every single one of you.”

“Sorry Jin,” you smile warmly.

“No you’re not. You’re the worst.”

Except he sounds fond, affectionate, and you laugh before going back to your salad. You miss the quick glances your three friends exchange after that. They’ve all noticed you eluding and changing the subject. They don’t want to rush you, know you would hate it and that it’s better to drop it.

But they’ve noticed.

Working with Jungkook on Wednesday afternoons easily becomes a habit, so easily you don’t even notice it until it’s something you look forward to during the week. It adds to the time you already spend eating with him and Taehyung. Jungkook is, slowly, starting to become a part of your life. It’s a thought you refuse to dwell on, because it sounds so strange.

The Wednesdays afternoons are something special, though. You and Jungkook don’t really talk at lunch, even if he’s clearly more relaxed around you now, which you suspect is the reason why you’re ‘Taehyung-approved’. On Wednesdays, you— Well, you don’t talk much, either, but it’s different. It’s a time that only belongs to the two of you. You like that.

You slowly find out things about him, his family, his life. It’s never the main subject of conversation, but it makes you feel like you’re solving a puzzle.

“My father wanted me to focus on my classes and forget about basketball,” he comments once. “But I could do both.”

It makes you laugh, because he says it with obvious satisfaction, but it also makes you wonder if there’s more to it. Jungkook doesn’t add anything, though, and you don’t want to probe into his life, so you don’t ask. After that, small pieces of the puzzle keep falling into place.

“My high school coach told me I could train more if I didn’t work so hard for school.” But he could do both.

“My friends said I never hung out with them anymore and that I shouldn’t work so hard.” So he did both.

It’s always the same story. People telling him things, giving him opinions on what the should and shouldn’t do, and him stretching himself thinner and thinner. It’s almost a miracle he’s still doing as well as he is, honestly.

But his tone changes when he talks about his former relationships. He’s usually light and genuine, sharing with you just because. It’s clear that, as much as the stories make you frown, he doesn’t have an issue with them, and you guess that’s all that matters. The first time he says something about an ex-girlfriend of his, though, he’s guarded, almost careful. He sounds like he doesn’t want to tell you.

“My ex said I worked too much.”

He doesn’t add anything. Whatever it was she wanted, he couldn’t do it and work. Didn’t manage to do both. After that, he doesn’t look at you for the rest of the day, like he did when you first met.

You never get a name for the girlfriend. He talks about relationships again, but you don’t even know if he’s always talking about the same one. You doubt it, though, and it only makes things worse.

“My ex wanted me to attend fewer practices.”

“My ex said I didn’t care enough to make time for her.”

“My ex dumped me after I lost a game.”

That last one hurts you, because you remember him crying in the closet because of that exact fear. You want to take his hand again, but you can’t dare to.

“She’s stupid for that,” you say instead.

Jungkook looks surprised first, because you never comment on what he’s telling you, then a smile slowly forms on his lips.

“If the only reason she was with you was because you won a lot of games, you’re better off without her,” you add.

“That’s what Taehyung said.”

“Taehyung’s right.”

Jungkook goes quiet for a little while after that, to the point that you look up, worried that you might have offended him. When you do, he’s looking at you, something you can’t identify shining in his eyes.

“Everything okay?”

He blinks like he’d just woken up for a dream, then nods. He doesn’t tell you that he hadn’t believed what Taehyung said — until you said it and he looked at you and thought that yeah, maybe he was better off without her indeed.

You’re surprised to run into Jungkook late one night, as you’re walking back to your dorm. It shouldn’t shock you — you do go to the same college — but you’re so used to only ever seeing him in the library or the cafeteria that meeting him outside is almost confusing. At least he seems taken aback as well, if the way his already round eyes widen is anything to go by.

Then, his surprised face morphs into a smile, and a wave of warmth hits you without a warning. You don’t get any time to think about it before he waves at you. His shyness is not completely gone, and you see him waver, hesitate, even as he’s walking up to you. You’re quick to close the gap between you, meeting him in the middle. Just in case.

“Hey,” he says, voice a little raspy. He has what you identify as a sports bag, slung over his shoulder, and you wonder what he was doing out so late. You were working at the library until it closed, which is far from being rare for you, but that obviously wasn’t his case.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling back. “Were you— training?”

Amusement flashes in his eyes at the careful way you chose your words, afraid to get it wrong. As he grew more comfortable around you, he also started making fun of you for not knowing the first thing about basketball. Strangely, you don’t mind that much.

“I was at the gym,” he says. “Practice was earlier today.”

“Oh,” is all you can muster. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. Should you ask what he was doing at the gym? The answer would only leave you with more questions, you’re sure.

You’re still debating it when Jungkook clears his throat. He reaches for his ponytail and undoes it, shaking his head so the hair fall back into place. The sight is— interesting. Pretty. You’re not sure why you’re so fascinated by it.

“Do you want me to walk you back to your dorm?” he asks, slight concern in his voice. “It’s late.”

“Is it on your way back?” you question, frowning. You would hate to be a bother.

“No, but—”

“I’m fine, then. I do that several times a week, I’ve never had a problem.”

That was, apparently, not the thing to say. Jungkook only looks more worried now.

“Several times a week? That’s really not careful.”

“I don’t see a problem, there’s no one around.”

“That’s exactly my p—” He stops and shakes his head, but gives a look you’ve seen before. A lot. It’s a look that says ‘I can’t believe someone as smart as you can also be so stupid’, in those exact terms. “Expected value,” he then says, and your eyes widen a little. Maths! Great. You can do maths. “Let’s say there’s a 99% chance nothing happens. Your gain is still minimal.”

Well, you get to study late and enjoy a walk home alone at night, but you’re willing to humor him.

“But in the one per-cent where something bad happens…”

He doesn’t have to finish his sentence. You know exactly where this is going, and you let out a sigh. He’s not wrong. On that aspect, at least.

“Fine.”

He grins widely.

“I just beat you at maths.”

“You didn’t beat me, I—”

“I just beat you at maths!”

You roll your eyes, choose to let him have that. It’s not going to change anything to your behavior after tonight, because the day has not come where you’ll let probabilities rule your life, but, after all, you don’t mind sharing your night walk with him.

Jungkook starts showing up to walk you home whenever he can. It’s not every time, which you’re kind of thankful for — you like his company, but you like being alone just as much, and you need a healthy dose of that every week —, but it does happen regularly. You find him sitting in front of the library, freezing cold, and you take pity on him, buying him a coffee from the vending machine inside, seconds before they lock the building.

That’s how you find out he likes his coffee tasting as little like coffee as possible.

Sometimes, he joins you later, and you hear him jogging to catch up with you. You don’t have the heart to tell him that that defeats the purpose of everything he’s doing, because it’s absolutely terrifying.

As the days turn into weeks, the air becomes colder, and you start seeing Christmas decorations appearing over the campus. You don’t know who is in charge of doing that, but they must be excited about it, because tinsel and few strings of fairy lights start appearing around the campus at the end of November. Jungkook is delighted by it, and you enjoy watching his reactions. You’re not big on Christmas, personally. You enjoy the tradition, the gift-giving, spending time with your family — you’re visiting them briefly this year — but you mostly see Christmas as an excuse for all of that. Jungkook loves it, though, and you decide that his excitement makes you like the season a little more.

“Hey, we should make a stop,” he tells you one night.

You look at him like he’s crazy. It’s the middle of December and it’s already half past nine. You’re cold, it’s dark outside, and you want to go home.

“A stop?” you repeat.

“Oh, c’mon,” he says, and he has that wide, childish grin that you’ve seen only a handful of times. You haven’t learned how to resist it yet. “C’mon!”

You sigh. But you follow.

As it turns out, he takes you just a little way off your usual trajectory. Behind a building you’ve never really paid attention to, Jungkook leads you to a small basketball court. You eye the place suspiciously. It’s empty, well lit, but you never know. A ball might come out of nowhere to hit you in the face, as they had a tendency to do when you were in high school and playing for a team that had picked you last.

By the time you turn around to tell Jungkook that, okay, you’ve seen it, let’s go home now, he’s taken off his coat and pulled a basketball out of his bag. You don’t even want to ask. His grin is even wider than earlier.

“C’mon,” he says.

“Absolutely not.”

“Let me show you, okay?”

You want to say no but— It can’t hurt, right? And Jungkook loves basketball, and you’re his— friend or something, so you should try to take some interest in it.

You take off your coat and let him lead you onto the court. There, you watch him as he dribbles in what you guess is an effective way (you can’t know for sure, you’re barely able to catch the ball after it’s bounced once so your standards are incredibly low), and then demonstrates his ability to score a handful of times. It’s not that you’re not impressed — again, you can’t do anything with this unpredictable, devilish round thing — but you also can’t say this is a quality you think much of.

You liked it a lot better when he convinced you to let him walk you home by talking about the expected value.

“You want to try?” he offers, holding the ball out for you.

You would rather die.

But you take the ball from his hand and eye the basket like it’s personally offended you. That makes Jungkook laugh.

“You can get closer than that,” he says.

You hold back a groan, aim and, of course, fail. It’s almost a relief. You can cross that off your list, again, just like you did as a kid first, then as a teenager. You’re bad at sports, always have been and, considering the effort you’re putting into it those days, always will be. That’s something you can count on.

Before you can say anything, Jungkook’s caught the ball and is running back towards you.

“Okay, let me show you.”

Is he going to— No, he’s just demonstrating it. You’re kind of disappointed not to get your typical ‘guy teaching girl anything sports related’ moment, disappointed that he doesn’t come to stand behind you to show you like they do in movies, but you can’t unpack that right now. You do watch with some degree of interest as he shows you how to position yourself.

“So you really aim for the line above the basket, not the basket, okay?”

“If you think that just because I aim for something I hit it…”

He chuckles, then gives the ball back to you, and you sigh. This. This is why you hate sports. It’s not the one-off failure, that would be fine on its own. It’s the constant humiliation whenever you even try it. You’re going to fail this attempt, and the next one, and the one after that. You’re a lost cause. You’re fine with it, too, but you don’t particularly want to go through that again.

You do your best, though. Not because you think it will change something, but because you kind of want to prove that this isn’t all you. That, even if you’re trying your hardest, there’s just something that refuses to let you score or do it right.

“Wait!” Jungkook walks over to you, puts his hand on your back, and you freeze. “You need to straighten yourself a little,” he says, placing his hand between your shoulder blades, and you nod. His hand is warm and large, you can feel it even over your sweatshirt. “There.”

He removes the hand, and you’re left a little off balance without him by your side. You shake your head quickly, shoot, and, without any surprise, miss.

Jungkook is on the ball just as fast as before, but you’re as quick as him to grab your coat and put it back on. You’re already feeling warm all over, though.

“You don’t want to try again?” he asks, sounding genuinely disappointed.

Of course, you take pity on him.

“Maybe next time,” you say.

He gives you a bright smile, so genuinely happy, and you know that you won’t be able to deny him next time either.

Jin is the reason you’re here, and that is the version you will stick with. No, you didn’t want to go see a basketball game, even if Jungkook is playing. No, you didn’t feel the slightest bit curious about it. No, you would not be there if Jin hadn’t asked. It’s Jin’s fault if you’re here on a Friday night instead of being, well, at your place, likely doing something equally as unproductive.

You don’t even understand what is going on in the field. There’s a lot of running and throwing the ball, that’s for sure, but then, you’ve just learned that scoring from different places in the field and at different moments will not earn the players the same amount of points.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen your friends look at you with such consternation as when they had to explain it to you.

In that situation, you can’t say that you get much from looking at the field. You definitely follow Jungkook with your eyes, cheer and clap when he scores, and let out cries of disappointment with the rest of the crowd when he doesn’t, but truly, the only way you have any idea what’s going on is by looking at the score board. And the truth is, that score is a little too close for comfort.

You hate that it has that much of an impact on you, but it stresses you out. Your leg bounces on the floor, an habit of yours Jin hates, but he’s too focused to notice, which is only more stressful. Jin always notices, and if it doesn’t, it must mean that the situation is dire.

The remaining seconds are slowly ticking down. Jungkook’s team is ahead by only one point, which means that if the other team scores, they will win. You think. You’re not entirely sure, but for your defense, you’ve just heard about it. Jungkook seems to be everywhere on the field. Taehyung is his shadow, perhaps not as noticeable or as spectacular in his actions, but certainly effective.

Again, you have no knowledge of basketball whatsoever.

Jin grabs your thigh, and only then do you realize that something’s happened. The action was so quick, so smooth, that you missed it entirely — but maybe you were also kind of thinking of something else.

Someone from the other team — you don’t even know your school’s team’s players, you’re not going to learn the other ones — just made a break for it. Based on what you can tell, Taehyung blocked his path, pushing him straight into Jungkook’s arms. In a movement you cannot begin to comprehend, Jungkook takes the ball from him, without ever stopping his run.

After that, he’s unstoppable.

He crosses the field, looking almost like he’s dancing in the way he avoids his opponents, and, of course, scores.

The time falls to zero. The crowd stands up like one man, screaming and shouting, and you yourself find yourself jumping up to hug Jin. He hugs you back, but the two of you quickly separate, patting each other’s backs awkwardly.

Jin starts talking with Namjoon and Yoongi, but you tune them out — it’s not like you understand what they’re saying anyway — to look at the field. The players have lifted Jungkook on their shoulders and he’s laughing, holding on to them so he doesn’t fall, and you grin.

“Come on,” Jin says, “let’s go congratulate him!”

That sounds like a terrible idea, you think. You won’t be the only ones, as the crowd has already invaded the field, and you doubt you’ll be able to get very close.

You still follow him. You alternate between clinging to his arm and to his shoulders so you don’t lose him, and trust him to elbow his way through the crowd. You hear him apologizing profusely in front of you, but he does not stop. Slowly, you make it down. Once you’re off the stairs, people are not as compactly gathered, and you can just walk between them. Jin grins at you, and you give him a thumbs up. Yeah, he did good here. You can give him that.

“Hey, Jungkook!” he calls out.

Jungkook was talking with some girls, but he looks up at the sound of his name, excuses himself, and jogs towards the two of you.

And it is then, in the few seconds it takes him to get to you, that it hits you. Like a ton of bricks.

You had known that Jungkook was objectively attractive, of course. There was no ignoring that. But Jin was objectively attractive, too, and that had never changed anything between the two of you. With Jungkook, right now, it does. His skin is glistening with sweat, and he wipes his chin with his shirt, and oh no, you can see his well-defined biceps and the line of his abs, and some hair is escaping from his ponytail, and he’s grinning with a happy, proud smile, and his eyes are shining and—

Jungkook is hot. That’s your realization. You had been aware of it, technically, but it’s like it only clicks for you at that exact moment.

“You came,” he tells you with a bright smile, and you can feel your entire face heating up. You pray that it’s not visible.

“Yeah,” you squeak out. “Great, um, great game?”

It sounds like an interrogation because you have no idea if it was one. It looked difficult, but maybe that was because they played terribly today. You don’t know that.

Jungkook’s smile widens a little, and you know that he has you all figured out. He knows you don’t understand the first thing about this whole thing.

“Thanks,” he still says.

His chest is still heaving quickly, and it draws your attention to his— his everything. The way he’s leaning towards you as he’s trying to catch his breath doesn’t help either. You wait for Jin to say something, to save you, but when you look around, you realize the traitor has abandoned you completely.

Okay, he hasn’t technically abandoned you, he’s just gone to congratulate Taehyung, but it’s the same difference.

You hear someone else calling Jungkook’s name before you’ve figured out what to say. He looks around, then gives you an apologetic look.

“Sorry, I—”

“No problem, you should— I have to go anyway.”

This is not like you. You’re an awkward person, and you struggle in social situations, but you don’t usually trip over your words like that. You kind of hate it.

“Okay, so, um, I’ll see you…?”

“Wednesday, yeah. Or— before. At lunch. If you’re there.”

This is terrible.

“Okay.” Jungkook gives you one last smile, and then he’s off, and you’re standing alone in the middle of a crowd. Your chest is heavy and it feels painful.

You hate this.

It’s only after that that you start realizing how big of a part Jungkook now plays in your life. He walks you home at night sometimes. You eat with him once or twice a week. You study together for an entire afternoon on Wednesdays. He’s just— everywhere. And it’s not that it’s a bad thing, because the feeling you get when you see him is a pleasant one, but it is disconcerting. It’s something that you have no control over whatsoever and that’s not— that’s not good for you.

You realize how much attention you were already paying to him, too, which is even more annoying. The signs were there. You should have understood this sooner. If you had, maybe you could have prevented it.

Because that’s the thing. You know the situation is ridiculous. You believe Jungkook sees you as a friend, and you’re happy with that, but there is no way he thinks of you as anything else. That is not an idea you should even begin to entertain. You can handle rejection, you’re used to it in so many aspects, though it’s rarely romantic, but you cannot take getting your hopes up only for them to be crushed.

The thing is, you can’t help it at this point, can’t force your feelings back in. There is so much to like about him. The way he plays with his hair, the quiet laughs when he’s in public, the loud ones when he’s walking you home, the sparkle in his eyes when he asks you a question in maths and it turns out he already had it right, the look on his face when he talks about basketball,… There’s so much.

You briefly consider avoiding him, but that’s not really an option. You like being his friend. You see your feelings as annoying, pesky little things that have no business being there in the first place. You don’t even hate the rush that goes through you when you see him, the way just looking at him brings a smile to your lips that you simply can’t hold back.

But you really, really hate the wishful thinking. The hope.

The feelings are fine, as long as you don’t think too hard about it. As long as he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Because that would break your heart.

And it’s only a matter of time before that happens.

You really considered declining when Jin asked you to come to this New Year’s party. Your last experience had effectively convinced you that those new parties he was getting invited to were not for you. That was fine, to each their own, but that did mean you didn’t really want to go. He clearly didn’t need you there anyway. You didn’t even know why he asked.

But he did, and he insisted, and he gave you his best puppy eyes, and that’s the thing about Jin: he’s very, very good at giving puppy eyes.

So that’s why you’re there, wearing a red dress that’s way too flashy for you, leaning against a wall and staring into the void. You feel empty and, though you’re not alone, lonely. You’re surrounded by strangers, and there are people everywhere in the house, but you don’t know them, and you can’t just start a conversation with them. It’s not something you do, it’s not even something you want.

You haven’t felt the urge to lock yourself inside a closet yet, though, so you guess that’s an improvement compared to last time.

Looking around, you can see Jimin, perched on the counter, listening to Yoongi talk with a smile on his face. Jin is somewhere else in the room and, though you can’t see him, you sometimes hear him, so you know he has his flirting voice on. Namjoon is nowhere to be seen, but that’s probably a good sign. He always get lucky at those parties. You don’t know how he does it. It’s impressive, honestly. Hoseok showed up earlier, and everyone greeted him like he was a star — which is kind of accurate, actually, at the campus’ scale.

You know, of course, that Jungkook and Taehyung, as inseparable as ever, are by the pool table. You also hate that you know it, because now your mind is constantly wondering if it’s weird that you haven’t been there yet, or if it would be weird to show up. Neither, probably, because exactly no one cares except for you, but you’re the master of torturing yourself with useless considerations.

God, you hate having a crush. It’s just so— unpractical. You also hate that you didn’t see that one coming, and that you didn’t do anything about it until it was too late. Usually, you’re pretty good at nipping those kinds of feelings in the bud. Now, you can only wait it out.

With a sigh, you push yourself away from the wall to wander aimlessly around the house. You promised Jin you’d stay until midnight, and you intend to keep that promise. It’s not like there’s anything for you to do, but still, that way you can look like you’re doing something and look a little less weird. Or maybe you don’t. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

Passing in front of the room with the pool table, you realize that Jungkook is gone. Taehyung is still there, playing with Hoseok, both looking pretty wasted, but Jungkook has vanished. That’s not good. You don’t want him to spring up on you out of nowhere like he did last time. You won’t know how to react if that happens, probably fumble for words, and it will be very unpleasant and very embarrassing for everyone.

You consider finding another closet, then decides against it. There’s just fifteen minutes left until midnight, anyway. That’s not too long. You can just wait it out.

You slowly make your way through the house. No sign of Jungkook anywhere. Maybe he left. Maybe he’s already back to the pool table and you missed him completely. Maybe he’s locked himself in a room with a girl and—

Oh you hate this. You hate feeling jealous. You hate that you have no control over it, you hate that it makes you sad, you hate that you have no right to feel like that. Jungkook isn’t yours. He’s probably even considered you for anything. You should consider yourself lucky you’re even friends with him in the first place.

You do your best to push everything out of your mind. Alcohol has never looked more tempting, but you don’t want the hangover with the morning, so you ignore the inviting bottles of beer and walk out.

It’s freezing — of course it’s freezing, it’s December you idiot, is there anything you can do right tonight — and you shiver, but you stay there. The cold is both numbing and soothing, and while you’re mentally complaining about it, you’re not thinking about anything else, so that’s good.

The door opens and closes behind you, and you guess someone is coming out to smoke. You move over to give them some space, but just as you do that, a jacket falls over your shoulders. You jump at first, and then the warmth makes you sigh in relief.

“You shouldn’t go out without a coat,” Jungkook says, because of course it’s him.

“I feel that you’ve been scolding me a lot recently,” you chuckle, glancing up at him.

He pouts, buries his hands in his pockets. He’s obviously cold as well, but at least his shirt covers his arms.

It also hugs his muscles real nice, but that’s besides the point.

“That’s because you make very poor decisions,” he mutters, looking at his feet. “You have to realize that.”

“You’re right. I could have taken my coat outside.”

“You know that walking back all alone in the middle of the night is way worse,” he protests, and then you laugh, because that’s exactly what you wanted, and he goes quiet for a second. “Don’t make fun of me,” he mumbles, looking away from you again.

“I’m not,” you say, and you take a step in his direction so you can bump your shoulder against his. “You shouldn’t worry that much, but I think it’s nice that you do. I was just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“That worked really well,” he says, and he sounds surprised about it. You wonder if it’s because he usually doesn’t get angry for stuff, but you can’t tell for sure. “Hey, you—”

People start shouting numbers inside, and you turn around to look at them.

“It’s midnight,” you say.

“Five!”

You look up at Jungkook. He’s significantly taller than you. Not as much as Namjoon, but still.

“Four!”

Jungkook looks back at you, smiles, and it takes your breath away. His hair looks very good like that, you think absent-mindedly, with the way it falls on either side of his face.

“Three!”

It’s too late to go back inside now. It would definitely be a weird thing to do. Which means you’re here, alone, with Jungkook.

“Two!”

Your eyes flicker to his lips. You wonder what it would be like to kiss them. You haven’t let yourself even consider it before, but right now your brain isn’t functioning all that well. Probably because of how loud your heart is beating in your chest.

“One!”

You look back up and his eyes are wide and focused on you. There’s that same tension in his shoulders as when you first met him, except, back then, he couldn’t look at you, and now it seems that he can’t look away.

“Happy new year!”

You decide you shouldn’t think about your next move. You get on your tiptoes to plant a kiss at the corner of his lips, right at the border between friends and something else, but he leans forward right at that moment, and his hands cup your face, and then he’s kissing you.

It’s like an explosion. You don’t know what you should focus on. How warm he is, how soft and large his hands are, how his lips move against yours, how he tastes, or simply the fact that he’s kissing you, Jungkook is kissing you!

The door slams open, and the two of you move away in a jump.

“Happy new year Jungkook!” Taehyung shouts, obviously drunk, soon joined by several other members of the basketball team. If he’s seen what happened, he doesn’t say anything, and you doubt Taehyung would have that kind of control over himself.

Soon, Jungkook is surrounded and they start to drag him back inside. He gives you a brief, apologetic look, then follows them, laughing. You remain there, frozen, unsure of what to do. You take a hesitant step towards the door, only to see a girl planting kisses on his cheeks while he blushes. What gets to you, though, is the arm he’s wrapped around her, the way he’s tracing circles on the naked skin of her shoulder. It makes the gesture look… intimate. Personal.

You let out a brief, bitter laugh, that there is fortunately no one to hear. You feel confused, but mostly, you feel stupid.

Fuck that.

It doesn’t take long for you to drop the jacket onto a chair and find your coat. You wish a happy new year to Namjoon, when you pass by him on your way out, and he looks a little surprised, like he hasn’t heard the shouting. You don’t want to know what he could have been up to.

You’ve kept your end of the bargain, you think as you leave. Jin won’t be able to complain to you. You feel some petty sort of satisfaction when you step outside and find yourself alone alone, finally. You like this. You like being alone. You’ve never asked for anything else.

You give one last look to the party, then vanish into the night. You’re better off on your own anyway.

“I don’t think I’ll be coming,” you say, nonchalantly, as everyone around the table is talking animatedly about a party for the next week-end.

You had hoped it would go unnoticed in the middle of the conversation, but, unfortunately, that doesn’t go as planned. Taehyung turns horrified eyes towards you, Jin, Namjoon and Yoongi all look surprised, and Jungkook… You don’t know how to read him. There’s that surprise, as well, but then he looks down before you can tell anything else. Not that that changes much. He’s barely looked at you today.

You haven’t talked to him since New Year’s Eve. You had other things on your mind, and then he didn’t show up at the library last Wednesday.

“What do you mean, you won’t be coming?” Jin asks. “You always come to parties.”

You shrug. You don’t miss the alarmed looks your friends are exchanging, and you’re sure Namjoon can see through you. Because it’s not like you to do something like that, whatever reason you may give.

“I don’t like them. They’re too loud, and I can’t say that I really enjoy standing alone for half the night.”

“You could stay with us,” Namjoon offers.

“And watch you pick up a girl every time? No thank you,” you reply with a disgusted shiver.

“You could stay with me,” Yoongi says.

You give him a look, and he grimaces, backing down immediately. Okay. He can see why you wouldn’t want that either. Plus he’s pretty sure that Jimin and him are about to get it on after weeks of flirting, so it’s probably not a great idea.

“What about me?” Jin asks. He doesn’t sound as energetic as usual, his voice almost quiet, and you realize that he probably feels bad because of what you said. He knows you come to those parties because of him, so knowing you don’t have fun at all when you’re attending — you understand that he might feel responsible.

“I think I would bore you very quickly,” you chuckle. “You’re not going to get the fun you want with me. But it’s fine, really. I tried it, and now I know it’s not for me. I can just—”

“No,” Taehyung says.

You blink.

“No?”

“I’m taking this personally,” he tells you, looking you dead in the eye. “You’re coming to this party and I’m going to make you enjoy yourself.”

You’ve never seen him so serious, and you can’t help it. You burst out laughing.

“Taehyung,” you say softly when you’re done. “I appreciate that, I do, but I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Taehyung opens his mouth, then winces and closes it. You’re not sure what happened there, but he gives Jungkook an offended look.

“I’m sorry,” you add. “I’m sure your parties can be great, but—”

“I get it,” he sighs. “But you owe me.”

You’re not sure why, but fine.

“And you can’t say anything bad about those parties, to anyone. Ever.” In that moment, he looks almost threatening, and you blink, confused. He can’t possibly take it that seriously, can he?

Then he yelps and rubs his leg. He gives Jungkook another annoyed look, but Jungkook doesn’t even look up from his food.

“Leave her alone,” he just mumbles.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but doesn’t add anything. He does give you a long, pointed glance, though, before muttering under his breath something that sounds a lot like “I won’t let that slander stand,” and you think that’s hilarious too.

When you risk a glance at Jungkook, his arms are folded over his chest, and he looks deep in thought. He’s chewing on his bottom lip, eyes focused on his meal, though he’s not touching it. It’s stupid, but the image of a child that has just been scolded flashes in your mind.

“Jungkook? Is everything alright?”

He jumps at your question, looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. Your eyes meet, but it’s extremely brief, and your chest tightens. This sucks. You thought the two of you had gotten past that now, and you hate that you lost what you had. It’s not like it’s your fault. He kissed you, and then he bailed on you first chance he got. Why would he do that, why would he risk it, if he was going to react like that afterwards?

“I’m fine,” he says with a tense smile, and you doubt it’s true, but you don’t know what you should ask him to confront him about it. You don’t want to talk about the kiss ever again. You certainly don’t want to do it in front of your friends.

So you jump on the first chance you get to leave the table. You don’t ask yourself if it’s a weird thing to do. It probably is, but fuck it, you’re weird, and everyone else can deal with it. You refuse to subject yourself to something unpleasant longer than absolutely necessary.

Except the looks you get are mostly concerned ones, from Namjoon and Jin. Jungkook does look up as you walk away, eyes following you almost longingly, and then he lets out a long sigh that catches Taehyung’s attention. He doesn’t say anything, but he narrows his eyes at him.

God. He really has to get everything done here, doesn’t he?

At first, you think that this is it. Your— your whatever it was that you had with Jungkook is over. You’ll see him around every now and then, and maybe he’ll give you a polite nod, though it doesn’t look like he would even do that right now, but there won’t be anything else. You’ll go back to being basically strangers, and it will be fine, because really, nothing happened there, right? You had a crush on him, he kissed you once, and then nothing. It’s fine. You’ll be fine.

Sure, it makes you a little sad. Sure, you catch yourself looking at him while he’s surrounded by girls who are all so much better for him than you ever were, and it hurts a little. Sure, walking back home alone at night is a little more unpleasant than it used to be, but that’s the thing. It’s only a little. You would almost pat yourself on the back for it. Congrats, (Y/N). You made it out before you got too attached. You probably avoided a world of hurt.

Because you know. You know that if you had gotten in too deep, it would have hurt like hell to not have Jeon Jungkook. And sure, it hurts right now.

But only a little.

You’re good. You’re safe. You know that Namjoon and Yoongi would nod if you told them about it. They understand, in a way a lot of other people don’t. You don’t think that Jin would, for example. He would tell you to take the risk, not understanding that people like Jungkook used to pick you last for their teams when you were in high school, not understanding that as far as you’re concerned, you’ve handled more than enough rejection throughout your life. But Namjoon and Yoongi… They’re definitely more successful than you in matters of the heart, but they would still understand. Not that you’re going to tell them about it, because it’s a stupid story, because there never was anything there, and because you’d feel really dumb talking about how you thought, how you hoped that— You’re not going to tell them anything. At least everything’s okay now.

And then, Jungkook appears at your usual table at the library on a Wednesday afternoon. He drops his bag on the floor and takes a seat next to you. You’re surprised to see him when you look up, too focused on your studies to notice him approaching. He has big, wide doe eyes, and he watches your reaction carefully.

“You’re— This seat isn’t taken?”

You shake your head. No. People rarely come here, and you don’t really study with people. Well, didn’t, you suppose.

“Do you mind if I sit here?“

“The seat’s free. You can take it if you want.”

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to react. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You never considered that Jungkook would— That he would—

“I, um, I like studying with you. It helps me focus,” he says, eyes flickering away from you. “So, if you don’t mind I’ll— Can I come back here on Wednesdays?”

You want to tell him that you can’t stop him, that he can do whatever the hell he want, but even though it’s on the tip of your tongue, you don’t.

“Of course you can,” you say instead.

Jungkook looks up long enough to flash you a smile, and you know. This isn’t over, and you’re not going to be fine. You’re probably going to feel crushed, sooner than later, and you could have stopped it all right now.

You think about Yoongi and how not like him it is to be doing what he is with Jimin. How he’s taking a risk. How it could oh so easily not have paid off.

It’s going to, of course. You just need to look at Jimin’s eyes when he’s talking to Yoongi to know that. But Jungkook doesn’t look at you like that. Jungkook doesn’t look at you at all.

And yet here you are. Taking that exact same risk.

God. You can be so stupid some times.

Jungkook glances at you quickly while you’re deep in thought, tapping your pencil against your cheek, and a small smile forms on his lips. He’s quick to glance away, because he would hate it if you caught him, of course, but the smile doesn’t fade.

He couldn’t have forced it to do so if he tried.

“You have to come to the next game.”

“Taehyung, hey, nice to see you to, I’m doing fine, I—”

“I’m serious, (Y/N). I know you hate basketball and everything that breathes, but—”

“I don’t hate you.”

“—this is really important and— Wait, really? Thank you. I feel that means a lot coming from you.”

“Is that how you see me? I don’t hate everyone, Taehyung.”

“Can you give me a list of people you don’t hate?”

“Well, you, Jin, Yoongi, Namjoon…”

“Jungkook?”

“…Sure. Jungkook. Why do you want me to come to the next game?”

“Because we might lose.”

“And I’m supposed to change that how?”

“You owe me, remember?”

“I— Because of the parties? Seriously? I need to sit through hours of you guys running after a ball because I don’t like parties?”

“I would really appreciate it if you could avoid describing basketball as ‘guys running after a ball’.”

“I would really appreciate not having to go watch the game.”

“Don’t you want to support your friends on the team?”

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll be there. Just— stop that thing you’re doing with your eyebrows. Why are you even doing that?”

“You’re so slow. How are you so slow? I thought you were supposed to be smart!”

“Taehyung…”

“Just be there!”

“I will.”

“You better!”

“Or what, what will you— Taehyung! You can’t just run off like— Well. I guess he could.”

You hadn’t thought sitting through a basketball game could become a more painful experience to you than it already was. As it turns out, you were wrong. It was so much worse when the people you wanted to win were losing. Despite yourself, you found yourself getting invested, standing up and shouting encouragements along with Jin and Namjoon, and protesting loudly when things didn’t go your way.

You were not cut out for this. Not because you still didn’t understand half the rules — you could have by now if you had made the effort of memorizing them — but because of the stress. God, how did your friends handle that regularly? How did the players handle it? You kept looking at Jungkook. You could tell how unhappy he was with the situation, could see the disappointment settling in. He also seemed to get more nervous as time went by, which didn’t help his performance, and his words kept echoing in your mind.

”I don’t know what’s going to happen when I stop being as good.”

You’re half way through the game and things are not looking good when Taehyung waves you over. You run to the railway, straining to hear him, and when you finally understand what he’s saying, you regret making any effort at all.

“You can’t possibly be serious!”

But he is.

“You owe me, (Y/N)!”

“I’m already— What’s it even going to do?”

“Trust me on that one, okay?”

You glare at him, but he’s looking at you with his beautiful brown eyes, and there’s nothing you can do against that. You sigh deeply. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest just thinking about what he’s asking you to do. Maybe it’s not such a big deal for him, that sort of stuff, but for you— For you it’s downright insane to even consider.

“Kim Taehyung,” you hiss through gritted teeth, “if this goes bad, I’ll kill you and plant your head on a stick outside of my door to warn my enemies not to underestimate me.”

He has the audacity to shrug at that.

“It won’t go bad.”

You look up. Take a deep breath. And call Jungkook’s name.

The gym is insanely loud, and it takes both you and Taehyung’s efforts, as well as a lot of waving, for Jungkook to notice you. When he does, though, he runs towards you, worry obvious on his face. He’s looking directly at you for once, and the intensity of his stare almost makes you shiver.

“Is everything alright?” he asks when he gets there, eyes scanning you quickly to make sure that you’re okay.

“It’s fine, I just—”

“What are you doing here? You hate basketball. Did something happen?”

You shake your head. You don’t know how you’re supposed to do this, especially when he’s looking so puzzled and when he’s questioning your sanity for showing up at one of his games. You glance over at Taehyung who gives you a decided nod.

Ah. Fuck it.

Leaning over about as far as you can go, you cup Jungkook’s face, and as his expression turns to one of surprise, you kiss him. If people around notice or have a reaction, you can’t tell, because Jungkook pushes himself against you and buries his hand in your hair as he holds you. There’s not much space left for thinking in your mind, instead entirely consumed by thoughts of him. He’s completely sober this time, and you don’t taste alcohol on his tongue. He’s also not going as slow, almost desperately kissing you back, one strong hand supporting you so you don’t fall over, and you just melt.

It takes everything in you to push yourself away. When you do, you’re breathless, and he’s staring at you with eyes even wider than usual. You’re pretty sure Taehyung would want you to give an encouraging speech right now, but you don’t want to do that right now.

“I really don’t care if you’re winning or losing games,” you say instead. “If you’re sad, I’ll be sad with you, but it’s never going to change anything in how I see you. But I’ll be here encouraging you.”

He grabs your hand, squeezing it tight.

“Promise?” he asks, almost childishly.

You’re not sure which part he’s referring to, but they’re all true, so you nod.

“I promise.”

He smiles, and then both him and Taehyung are running back across the field and getting yelled at by their coach, but even from where you’re standing, you can see their smiles.

You guess that means you’re not going to murder Taehyung.

“This is actually insane. How is Jungkook even doing that?” Yoongi asks in disbelief after Jungkook scored extremely impressively yet again, and you fidget in your seat. You’re very happy to see that, though you don’t how you feel about the smug looks Taehyung is sending you, but you don’t want—

“It’s the power of love,” Jin says, nodding like he just gave an essential truth to the meaning of life.

—this. You, very specifically, don’t want this.

“Jin,” you sigh, “there’s no such thing as—”

“Actually,” Namjoon interrupts you, “I think he’s right. The power of love is a thing, and I think this is a perfect demonstration of it.”

You gape at him, in shock. He betrayed you?

“Did you just—”

“Namjoon’s right,” Yoongi nods. “This is how the power of love works. You take love, and you turn it into strength.”

And then, him, Jin and Namjoon high five, and you gasp. Traitors. All of them.

But after that, Jimin says off-handedly “Maybe you should come and kiss me before my next competition” and Yoongi’s brain visibly stops functioning, so you consider yourself avenged.

After the match, you wait for Jungkook outside of the locker room. Jin insisted you should go celebrate on the field, but you had declined. It felt like the situation required something a little more private, so now you’re here, leaning against the wall, looking at your phone so you’ll seem busy, even if there’s nothing on there to occupy yourself.

You’re not the only one there, and that doesn’t help soothing your nerves. There are a lot of girls, all pretty and smiling. It makes you feel like a groupie, and you don’t like it. You’re relieved for a second when the door opens and the team comes out, but it doesn’t last long, because the girls are soon surrounding them. You remain where you were standing, watching the whole thing happen. It takes a few moments before you notice Jungkook’s bun standing out of the group, and it makes you smile.

You catch Taehyung’s eye first, and, after you’ve sent him a glare that you hope was threatening, he pushes Jungkook out of the group. At first, he seems confused, before he finally finds you. You wave at him hesitantly. He blinks a few times, his eyes wide, then walks towards you.

“Hey,” he says when he joins you. He’s towering over you. Usually, you don’t like that, and you’ve complained about having to look up at Namjoon more than once, but you don’t necessarily mind right now.

“Hey,” you reply.

Silence stretches between the two of you as you try to think of something to say. You should have prepared a speech, you know that, but you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t have been able to say it either.

“Taehyung told me he told you to kiss me,” Jungkook blurts out after a while, looking away from you, and you give him a surprised glance. “So, you don’t have to—”

“No, I wanted to kiss you,” you interrupt him, a puzzled frown forming on your face.

Jungkook’s head whips back towards you, and you just stare at him in confusion.

“Do you really think I would have kissed you just because Taehyung asked me to?”

“Well you— you came to the game because he asked you to, right?”

“That’s not the same—”

“Jungkook!” someone from the team calls. “We’re going to grab a bite to celebrate, do you wanna come?”

Jungkook sighs, then gives you a sharp look.

“You wanted to kiss me,” he repeats.

You nod.

“Why?”

You bite your lower lip, and you’re not oblivious to the way his eyes fall to your mouth when you do.

“And I’m the blunt one,” you mumble.

“Sorry, I–”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s just— I wanted to kiss you because I like you. Obviously.”

Jungkook swallows, and you can see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He looks over his shoulder at his friends.

“You can go without me!”

There are some protests, but he ignores them to give you his entire attention. It’s… not an unpleasant feeling.

“You disappeared after I kissed you the last time,” he says.

“You left,” you protest immediately. “You kissed me, and then the second your friends arrived, you acted like nothing happened and you left.”

“I didn’t want to— I just— They’re really annoying about that stuff, you know? I thought it would probably be better if I talked to you after— ‘m sorry. I didn’t— didn’t realize it—”

You look at Jungkook, watch him fumbling for words, and it hits you like a ton of bricks, how much you do like him. Those words really don’t do it justice, and maybe you’re not quite ready to talk about love just yet, but you like him so much, so much it makes your heart swell, so much you don’t think what what he’s trying to tell you would change anything to it, and yet what he’s trying to say is exactly what prompts your realization. He didn’t want to hurt you. Wanted this to be private, for just the two of you, wanted to see how you felt about it. And maybe he went the wrong way about it, but it means everything that he was trying.

“Walk me home?” you ask.

Jungkook finally stops his rambling.

“Are you sure?”

Of course, he has to ask that now, after weeks of trying to convince him to let you walk on your own. Still, you smile and nod, and when you start walking side by side, you grab his hand. He freezes temporarily before grinning and squeezing your hand, pulling it into his pocket so you won’t be too cold, because the air of January is chilling.

“Congratulations for the game,” you say after a long, comfortable silence. You had almost forgotten about it.

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I had some help.”

And then, he winks at you, and your heart misses a beat. That’s when you understand something you hadn’t even considered before: if Jungkook stops being shy around you, you’re done for. You’ll be the one constantly flustered.

“So,” you say, slowly, trying to keep yourself composed, “why did you kiss me?”

“Um. Same as you?” Jungkook’s confidence disappears, and he returns to his awkward self, and you see that, as much as you like it, you want him to be comfortable around you. But that doesn’t mean you can’t tease him a little.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask innocently.

He gives you a horrified look that soon turns to an offended one when he notices you grinning widely.

“You’re so mean,” he says, but he’s smiling too, “you’re the meanest person I know.”

You’re laughing at that point, as you stop in front of your dorm.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Fine,” he sighs dramatically. “I kissed you because I like you.”

It’s funny. You knew that was what he was going to say, knew it was coming, and yet it gets to you all the same.

“With you, I don’t feel like I have to be the school’s star, you know? I can just be— Jungkook. You don’t expect me to be anything else.”

He’s right. You like Jungkook. With his insecurities and his flaws. You don’t want him to perform for you, and you don’t care what he’s doing right and wrong. Just studying maths in the library with him makes you happy.

He eyes your dorm and takes a deep breath.

“I should go,” he says.

You hum.

“Yes, it would be a really bad idea if you came up tonight.”

But you’re not letting go of his hand, and he’s close to you now, close enough that you can feel his breath catching in his throat. It makes you smile.

“You’re so mean,” he repeats.

This time, instead of laughing, you kiss him, and it’s completely different from the two previous times. There is no uncertainty in this kiss, no surprise, no pressure, no fear. It’s perfect. Jungkook’s hand comes to cup your cheek, his lips soft against your own. His long fingers gently stroke your jaw as he keeps the kiss chaste and sweet. It only makes you yearn for more and when he moves away, you can see in his eyes that he wants more as well.

You just don’t think he wants it now.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” you ask.

“I’ll meet you for lunch,” he says solemnly, and it rings like a promise, which makes you smile.

When you move away, though, he doesn’t let go of you, and a pouty expression appears on his face before he releases you.

“I— Yeah. You should go.”

“You can come up if you want to, you know?”

He hesitates, rolls his lips together.

“I want to savor this,” he admits to you in a near whisper.

“Then I’ll go.”

“Yes. Good night.”

“Good night.”

You feel light and giddy as you walk through the door. It’s a nice and strange feeling, like you could just start floating any second.

You already can’t wait for the next day.

People are definitely weirded out by your relationship with Jungkook. Or, rather, by Jungkook’s relationship with you. You’re pretty sure most of the people who give you weird looks when you sit next to him and he wraps his arm around you, or when you walk hand in hand, wouldn’t pay attention to you if you went to class naked. But they all know who Jungkook is, and you guess it is weird to see you in conjunction with him.

They could ignore it and consider you mere part of the scenery when he ate with you, you suppose, but it is harder to do now. You’re not too fond of being the center of attention, to be honest. You don’t know how Jungkook does it.

What takes you by surprise the most is people being nice to you. That confuses you to no end, because you know for a fact they don’t care about you, not really, and you cannot fathom what they think they’re going to get out of this. You’re pretty sure there are a girl or two who are doing that to get closer to Jungkook, and some, you think, have decided to be nice to you because they think that if Jungkook likes you, you can’t be a total lost cause.

You don’t like that feeling. Not at all. You don’t like it when you’re going to class, you don’t like it during lunch, and you definitely, definitely do not like it when people rush towards you the second you get to a party.

Yeah, you’re giving Taehyung what he wanted, in the end. He said that both you and Jungkook owed him, because without him you wouldn’t be together, and you eventually gave in.

You thought it would be fine, now that you have someone to spend time with, but you understand with horror that your status has changed now. You’re not invisible anymore. You’re Jungkook’s girlfriendTM. Because of that, you spend much longer in the entrance making small talk than you would have wished to, and you��re stopped a couple of times while you’re desperately looking for your boyfriend to save you from this hell on earth.

You’re not surprised at all to find him playing beer pong with Taehyung and other guys from the team. He hasn’t gotten time to get drunk yet, so he’s quite impressive, but then again, they all are. That’s why they usually end up wasted.

The second he sees you, though, he abandons the game completely, and the smile on his face threatens to make your heart explode in your chest. Some of the guys turn around to look at you, give you a wave or a smile. Taehyung shouts a greeting.

“Hey,” Jungkook says, leaning in to press a quick kiss on your lips. He doesn’t like PDA all that much, but he never misses a chance to kiss you, and the thought makes you all giddy.

“Hey. Are you, um, having fun there?”

He shrugs.

“It’s not that bad. Wanna play?” He waits for your expression to turn to one of horror as you try to refuse politely before laughing. “Just kidding. Don’t worry about it.”

You let out a relieved breath. You know you and Jungkook are very different people, and you’re doing your best to take an interest in the things he likes. You’ve been learning the rules of basketball, for example, and though you still don’t believe you get the point, you like the way his eyes shine when you say something right about a game.

But you don’t take part in any of that stuff. Okay, you stop at that field that’s on your way home from the library every now and again, but that doesn’t count. It’s just you and him then, and you feel good and relaxed. You’ve even scored a couple of times now.

“Come on, I want to grab a drink,” Jungkook said, taking your hand in his, and you follow without protesting.

It’s probably your second mistake of the night: not realizing that getting a drink with and without Jungkook are two very different ordeals. On your way there, you get roped into several conversations. Those are fine. You can’t say you enjoy them, but they’re fine, and it’s not like those people are actually talking to you anyway.

What you genuinely dislike is that, when you’re by the table with the drinks, a girl starts openly flirting with your boyfriend. It’s not subtle, either, with the way she keeps touching his arm and how she laughs at his every word.

For a while, you just stare in disbelief. You know Jungkook is oblivious to that sort of things — probably one more reason why he likes how blunt you are — but you can’t believe her. You wouldn’t necessarily blame the girl for trying, either, if she didn’t know about you. Jungkook’s quite the catch after all, and you understand liking him better than anyone else.

No, it’s the fact that she’s doing it right in front of you, while Jungkook is holding your hand. It feels so— dismissive. So insulting. She’s not exactly saying to your face that she doesn’t take you seriously, but she might as well.

You watch incredulously when she puts her hand on his arm one more time. You don’t know how you’re supposed to handle that, so you just tug on Jungkook’s hand a little awkwardly. You’re pleased by how quickly his attention snaps to you, even while the girl is in the middle of her sentence. It’s a petty sentiment, for sure, but you can’t help it.

“Everything okay?” he asks. “Is it too loud in here?”

“Kind of, but—”

“Let’s find you a quieter place.”

He forgets about the drink he wanted to get, forgets about the girl, who he abandons there unceremoniously, gently pulling you through the room. Next thing you know, he’s carefully closing the doors of the closet he’s found for the two of you behind you.

“There,” he says, sounding satisfied with himself. “Better?”

You chuckle at that and, guessing for him in the half-light, you pull him towards you for a kiss. You press your body against his, pushing him against the back of the closet, and a groan forms in his throat. His hands tighten around you, sending shivers through your entire being, and you only lean into him more. You run your fingers over his chest, just to feel him tremble under your touch and he does, hissing with pleasure at the contact.

“Fuck,” he mumbles into your mouth. “Was that— was that what you had in mind?”

You shake your head, and he’s close enough to feel it.

“That girl was flirting with you,” you tell him.

“Oh. Are you sure?”

You are.

“So… are you jealous? Because that’s kind of hot.”

You laugh softly. Truth is, you really, really don’t want to be the jealous girlfriend, but Jungkook actually sounds happy about the idea.

“You really didn’t notice?”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I didn’t. Does that— Did it bother you, that she was doing that?”

“Kind of,” you shrug. “What about you? You’re— cool with that?”

“If it bothers you I don’t like it,” he replies simply, one of his hand leaving your waist to grab yours and squeeze it gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”

That makes you chuckle.

“How didn’t you? She would have made it barely more obvious if she had started undressing herself.”

Jungkook has an awkward laugh, and you can feel his breath on your face. He starts fidgeting, but then you press a kiss right at the corner of his lips, and he calms down, if just a little.

“It’s— You have to promise you won’t make fun of me.”

“I won’t.”

He hesitates a second longer, as though he’s trying to judge your sincerity by looking at you — except, of course, he can barely see a thing in here. You kiss him again, following his jaw, and he finally gives in when you start making your way down his neck.

“When I’m with you, it’s like my vision narrows on you,” he says, voice low. “I know everything and everyone else is still there, but I just think about you. Sorry, it’s really stupid.”

“It’s not,” you say, shaking your head, wondering if he can feel your heart beating stupidly fast in your chest, all because his words make you feel like nothing else ever has before. “But I’m— I’m kind of boring. That can’t be fun.”

“You’re not boring,” he protests. “You listen to people, even when you don’t look like it. You always look like you have a thousand things on your mind but you always make time for your friends, and when you’re studying here, you play with your hair.” He twirls a lock of your hair around one of his fingers before releasing it, as if to demonstrate. “You’re a very, very interesting person to look at.”

The only thing you can do is stay there, frozen in his arms, after he’s said that. You may be blunt, but Jungkook is honest. Devastatingly so. His vulnerability always shatters the walls that you’ve built around yourself, and you still don’t know how to react when that happens.

So you push yourself on your tiptoes to kiss him again, except this time it’s slow and gentle and you’re trying to put everything he means to you into it. The tip of your fingers are on his cheeks, your mouth barely moving against his, soft noises filling the closet. Jungkook remains still, letting you in complete control, like he’s afraid he could break you if he moved.

“Thank you,” you whisper when you pull away from him.

“For what?” he asks, breathless.

“For being here with me tonight, and for coming with me at that first party.”

“Of course. Any time.”

He lets himself fall to the floor, taking you down with him and keeping you into his lap once he’s done that. You rest your head against his chest. You hear the noises of the party still going on outside, but Jungkook is your island of peace in the middle of the chaos.

“I think I’m going to stop basketball,” Jungkook blurts out without a warning, and you look at him, surprised.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah. Really. I just— I don’t want to be doing that anymore.”

You think about it for a few seconds, then nod.

“You probably should stop, in that case.”

“People are… not going to be happy about it.”

“I’m sure Taehyung won’t be mad at you. Well, not for too long.”

He laughs softly, but his hold on you doesn’t relax, and you know that this was hard for him to even consider. You know it’s a terrifying decision to take, too.

“Thank you,” he says. “For being here with me tonight, too.”

“Any time.”

The truth is, you wouldn’t give that moment away for anything in the world, and something tells you Jungkook wouldn’t either. It’s not ideal, it’s not perfect, but you don’t believe there is such a thing, and you’re happy to satisfy yourself with the imperfect.

But any moment you can spend in Jungkook is as close to perfect as can be.

“I love you,” he whispers in your ear, and you think that he might feels the same way, which almost makes you burst with happiness.

“And I love you,” you whisper back.

Not perfect, perhaps. But close enough.

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