Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey. I gotta go.”

Minhyuk looks up from his phone, eyes going round as he’s taken off guard by your appearance in the doorway to the small recording space. He glances at the backpack slung over your shoulder and the crate you’re holding propped up against one hip.

“For real this time?”

You nod. He unfolds his long limbs, getting up off the low couch and in a flash he’s taken the crate from you and wrapped his arms around your upper body. You wheeze out a laugh, crushed against the much taller man in a way that seems likely to break several of your vertebrae.

“Minnie,” you choke out. “Not so tight…this is like our tenth goodbye hug, anyway.”

He steps back, blond hair falling almost in his eyes as he looks down at you with an exaggerated pout.

“But it’s the last one!! You said so yourself. Today is your last last day.”

“I know,” you say, giving him a smile that hopefully hides the sadness you’re feeling. “But it’s not like you’ll never see me again.”

Minhyuk tilts his head at you, raising his eyebrow in a skeptical arch. You sigh.

“I’ll text you all the time. We still have the groupchat and, like, you literally know where I live. I’m not technically going anywhere.”

“Yes you are. You’re betraying us all and selling your soul to another company.”

“I’m selling my soul to the company. Remember that,” you admonish him, barely holding back a grin. “I’m a BigHit employee now...show some respect, yeah?”

Minhyuk scoffs, dimples appearing in his cheeks as he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around to push you into the hallway. You let out a little squeal of protest.

“Hey!! First you wanted me to stay and now you’re shoving me out??”

“You’re being annoying. Let’s go, brat.”

“Fine. Can you carry my crate?”

“I’m carrying the crate. Come on, you have to say goodbye.”

“I already said goodbye to him!!”

“Mhm.”

Minhyuk practically perp walks you down the hall, steering you left around a corner and past a few empty studios until you reach a closed door. He extends a long arm and raps on the glass pane with his knuckles.

A few moments later, the door swings open to reveal a man with ginger colored hair. As soon as he recognizes you, he smiles – revealing the deepest dimples you’ve ever seen in your life. His eyes practically disappear behind his high cheekbones as he grins at you.

“Y/N-ah,” Jooheon says cutely, resting a forearm against the doorframe by his head and poking the opposite hip out to the side. “You come by to produce one last song for us?”

Minhyuk plops your crate down on the floor by your feet, leaning in to plant a lightning-fast peck on your cheek before scurrying off in the direction he came. “Text me, Y/N-ah!! I’ll be waiting!”

You wipe at your cheek, scowling after your lanky friend as he escapes down the hall. Jooheon opens the studio door wider and steps back to let you inside, still grinning as you move to stand by the low coffee table. He closes the door and turns to face you, pausing a few beats before speaking.

“How are you feeling?”

You draw in a long breath through your nose. “Fine. A little nervous.”

He narrows his eyes. “If they’re mean to you over there, you call me right away.”

“Stop,” you say, rolling your eyes a little bit and smiling. “Everyone I’ve met over the past couple weeks has been super nice. The transition has been pretty easy so far. I just…want to do a good job.”

Jooheon steps closer to you, dipping his head slightly to hold your gaze. “You know they offered you this deal because you’re amazing at what you do, right?”

“Mm.”

He positions himself in front of you.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“You know.”

“Please don’t make me. Minhyuk made me say it four times already this week.”

“I wanna hear it.”

You glare at Jooheon. He blinks slowly back at you, the beginning of a dimple forming in his left cheek.

You huff out a long exhale. “I’m the cutest and most talented producer on the planet. BigHit is lucky to have me.”

Jooheon’s face cracks into a sly grin, a laugh bubbling up from his chest. It’s infectious – within seconds you’re smiling and tilting your face toward the ceiling to hide the color growing in your cheeks. When you look back at Jooheon, the grin is slowly fading from his face. He searches your eyes for a moment.

“What am I gonna do without you?” he asks, lapsing into English.

You reach out a hand to him, tugging a bit on the front of his sweatshirt. You know Jooheon only uses English with you when he has something important to say – a habit of his that you’ve come to adore. You’re proud to be multilingual but there’s something special about hearing your first language spoken here in Seoul.

“You’ll be fine,” you say softly. “You guys are still finding your sound. You don’t need me to do that. Starship will bring on someone who’s a perfect fit.”

Jooheon moves closer, placing a warm hand on either of your arms. He rubs a soft circle into your left elbow.

“What about outside of work, hm?” he murmurs, voice low and tinged with something bittersweet. “I’ll miss you then, too.”

You draw in a shallow breath. “Joo…”

Inching even closer, he leans his forehead against yours. You can smell the sweet notes of his shampoo.

“Just stay a little longer. One hour,” he offers, bringing a hand up to gently run his knuckles against your jaw. “And then we can say goodbye.”

The warmth in your cheeks spreads lower, making your heart beat a little faster as a familiar longing tugs in your belly. You look from Jooheon’s eyes to his lips, mind travelling back in time as you linger with his proposal.

------

It’s early. The dorm is quiet as you pad down the hall to the bathroom, running a hand through your bed-matted hair. You’re a little hungover from last night and you seriously have to pee.

After dealing with your bladder, you turn on the hot water tap to wash your hands. A soft knock comes at the door.

“Yeah?”

There’s no answer, but the door swings inward just enough for Jooheon to slip inside. He closes the door behind him, making sure to be quiet about it as he watches you lather soap between your fingers. You raise one eyebrow in question.

“Can I help you?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. He’s shirtless, eyes still squinty with sleep and hair sticking out in all different directions. He’s cute with bedhead, you think. You move to reach for a towel to dry your hands and Jooheon pushes off from where he’s leaned against the back of the bathroom door. He comes up behind you, hands resting lightly on your hips.

“You left,” he says, a hint of sulking in his voice.

“Mm. I couldn’t take Changkyun’s snoring any longer,” you murmur. “Is he still passed out in your bed?”

“Yup.”

You click your tongue, tossing the towel to the side as you gently push your hips back toward Jooheon’s.

“Damn…so much for finishing what we started,” you sigh.

Jooheon meets your eye in the mirror, bringing his lips closer to your ear. “We could finish it in here.”

You toy with the idea for a few moments. The dorm bathroom isn’t the cleanest place in the universe…but you’re horny. Like, woke-up-already-feeling-hot-and-bothered horny. Still worked up from being interrupted and pestered all night by Changkyun who for some reason insisted on sleeping in Jooheon’s bed with the two of you. You’re pretty sure he knows about you and Jooheon – you’ve been hooking up here and there for a couple months – so you assume the sabotage was intentional. Brat.

Jooheon’s fingertips brush the hem of the oversized t-shirt you subbed in as a nightgown. “Do you want to?”

You hold his gaze in the mirror as you cover his hand with yours and guide it under your t-shirt, pressing his palm against your belly. “I’ve been wanting to. All night.”

Jooheon’s breath is warm against your ear as he slips his fingers beneath your panties, dipping them low to find the wetness waiting between your legs. The pad of one finger swipes through your folds to gather it before sliding up again to rub unhurried circles around your clit. You let out a shaky exhale as he presses his hips forward to pin you against the counter. You can feel how hard he is through the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Missed you,” he whispers, voice husky and warm.

“We were together all night.”

“You know what I mean.”

Jooheon slides his hand down again, holding his palm against your clit as two fingertips press at your opening. You moan into his touch, keeping your lips sealed tightly together so the sound is trapped in your throat.

“Condom,” you breathe shakily.

He fumbles in one of the drawers to your left, holding you firmly against him until he pulls out a foil packet. Jooheon releases you and takes a step back to sheath himself.

“We have to keep quiet,” you remind him.

“I’m not the loud one,” he quips back, feline eyes flicking up to meet yours as he smirks. He reaches for your hips again and gently tugs. “Turn around.”

You shake your head, grabbing one of his hands in yours to hold him in place as you lean your chest down low over the counter. “No…want it like this.”

“You sure?”

You glance back at him over your shoulder, tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip as you feel Jooheon’s knuckles against your panties. He uses two fingers to pull them aside and you let out a small gasp at the sudden touch of cool air against your core.

“Of course I’m sure. You know I like it when – aah!”

You cry out briefly at the sensation of Jooheon pushing his way inside of you – gently, but still the drag and stretch has you breathless for the first few seconds. He pushes you snug against the cabinets as he bottoms out and you wince at the feeling of your hipbones grinding against the hard countertop. Jooheon notices, somehow, and slides his hands down to rub your hips and pull you back by a couple of inches.

“You OK?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you pant, lips curving into a smile as he starts to thrust slowly. “Feels so good like this, Joo...”

He doesn’t answer, just holds on to your hips and moves in and out of you at an achingly slow pace. In the mirror you see his eyebrows pulled together in concentration, abs clenched as he sets about fucking you in the most diligent way possible. You arch your back, pushing your ass against his hips and giving him room to slip a hand between your legs again. You bite back another moan and toss your hair over one shoulder as heat starts to build in the pit of your stomach.

“You can go faster,” you purr, rolling your hips a bit to encourage him.

Jooheon complies automatically, body getting ahead of him even as he sinks his teeth into his lower lip in worry. “I don’t want to hurt you like this.”

“You won’t! J-just keeping going.”

Jooheon knows your body so well at this point – and you know his. Sex with him is really just a matter of how long you want to go at it before getting one another off, since you’ve both memorized the quickest routes and techniques. You’ve hooked up enough to read his body like a book – which is why you can tell what’s about to happen as soon as Jooheon opens his mouth to speak again.

“Y/N…b-baby,” he stammers out. You bristle a bit at the nickname, but let it slide as usual. “Let me turn you around. I want to see you.”

You let out a breathy exhale through your mouth, stifling both a groan and a laugh as you straighten up and let Jooheon reposition you. He’s about to come already. You can hear it in his voice – feel it in the tension of his grip. He sets you on the edge of the countertop and pulls your panties off, giving you a second to hike your thighs up around his waist before lining himself up with your core again. You lay your forearms along the plane of his shoulders, fingertips scraping against the nape of his neck as he pushes back into you with a low groan.

Jooheon is vanilla. You mean this in the best sense, of course: he’s dependable. Easy-going. When he’s good, he’s good – and on the right day, he’s exactly what you need. So he tends to be sweet, rather than…well, fun – but sex with him is uncomplicated and sweet guys are kind of far and few between. It works both ways, you think – you’re probably vanilla for Jooheon, too. It’s why you work as friends and it’s why you have chemistry as friends with benefits.

So it doesn’t really bother you when he comes a few minutes later, face buried in your neck as he empties himself into the condom with a shuddery breath. You smile and slide your hands down his back to press him closer to you as he rides out his finish. Eventually he pulls back, still breathing heavily as he meets your eye and smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he pants. “You just feel so fucking good. Couldn’t help it.”

You reach up to push the sweaty hair back from his forehead. “It’s OK. Just keep feeding me compliments and we’re set.”

He grins, leaning forward to press a brief kiss against your lips. Sweet.

“Let’s take a shower. Get cleaned up.”

Ten minutes later you’ve thrown the idea of “keeping quiet” out the window as Jooheon gets on his knees to hitch one of your legs over his shoulder. You thread your fingers into his hair and moan freely into the steam of the shower as he puts his mouth to work, making sure you’re not only clean but also fully satisfied after so much build-up. He’s a good friend, after all.

-----

You’ve built a lot of trust with Jooheon over the past several months. He’s technically a coworker – but he’s also one of your closest friends in Seoul and one of the very few people you’ve shared your body with since moving here. He gets you – and he makes getting you seem simple. It’s what makes him an easy fixture in your life.

It’s also what makes this decision so difficult.

Jooheon sees it before you say anything: you draw in a quick breath, holding it in your chest as you look up at him from beneath your lashes. He sees the hesitation in your eyes and makes the next part easy for you.

“…You gotta go.”

It sucks, hearing him say the words. But it’s true. You nod, and he drops his hands away from your arms.

“I need to drop the rest of my stuff off…and I have a meeting at three,” you explain, the words feeling wooden in your mouth. “But I’ll call – “

“I know,” Jooheon cuts you off. Gives you a warm smile. “I know you will. But you have to focus on getting your feet under you, first.”

You nod again. It almost makes it worse that he knows exactly what to say.

You’ve talked about this multiple times – you know you’ll still be friends, but it feels strange that you won’t be seeing him around the office anymore. His life as an idol is already so hectic and yours is about to get really busy, too – way busier than before. You’d both agreed to take some space so you could get settled at BigHit and Jooheon could focus on preparing for the upcoming tour with his members. Even so, it feels weird to finally be saying some kind of goodbye.

Jooheon helps you gather up your things again and hangs in the doorway to the studio as you take a few steps down the hallway. His dimples reappear as you give him an awkward little wave.

“Don’t worry,” Jooheon calls as you get farther away. “They’re all going to love you.”

You laugh. Hopefully he’s right.

Your first month at BigHit was a blur.

Hired as a production tech, you were brought on basically to support the company’s existing production team in whatever way they needed. Though BigHit had pursued you and offered a deal purposely meant to outbid your previous contract at Starship, you still had a long way to go to prove yourself to the company. During the first month you had some facetime with artists but you didn’t spend the majority of your weeks producing music, per se – or at least, not in the way you would’ve imagined it when you first thought about making a career as a producer.

You spent a good chunk of time listening. Watching. Sitting in on sessions with more senior producers who seemed to spend every waking moment tinkering around with one track or another. You were often invited into a studio or table session as a point of consult, though it seems understood by all that you’re a rookie and for now you’re just hanging out to absorb everything. There’s a lot to learn about the company’s culture and the sound of each artist, and you’re hungry for all of it. The listening and watching doesn’t bother you.

You were grateful for any task, no matter how menial. Organizing computer files, following up on requests for masters, mixing guide tracks – you did it all happily. You weren’t above taking coffee orders if it meant you could start to form a relationship with the production staff.

In short, you were a simp for BigHit. This didn’t bother you either. You’d make your mark when the time was right. You were sure you could handle whatever they threw at you in the meantime.

After a few weeks on the job, you more or less get assigned to one of the company’s newer and most promising acts. This feels like a huge step – it means you’ll get to work with some of the label’s best producers. The thought of having your name listed on a track alongside Slow Rabbit or Pdogg seems totally unreal but suddenly kind of possible.

But the biggest perk, you soon realize, is working with the idols.

Tomorrow By Together is young – both in the sense that the group was recently formed and in that the members are babies. You were a little shocked when you first laid eyes on Kai and realized he couldn’t be more than a teenager; you were surprised again when you heard the extremely adult voice that came out of him when he sang in front of you. You know Soobin is the appointed leader but the person who seems to stick out the most for you is Yeonjun: the oldest member, and always the first one to greet you or bark out a reminder when the others are getting off track.

The members are playful and sometimes really hyper – but more often than not you’re surprised at how focused they are. Their talent is obvious and you can tell they have a long career ahead of them. Though you’ve only known them for a few weeks, you hope you’ll be around for some of it.

As you enter your second month at BigHit, you spend more and more time with TXT. Sometimes you help with vocal lessons and recording sessions; other times you hunker down in the production wing while the members are attending other parts of their schedules. You’re hunched over your laptop in one of the shared studio spaces one morning when things take an unexpected turn.

Your headphones are on. You’re blasting a new album you’re currently obsessed with as you pore over Pdogg’s notes on one of the tracks being prepared for TXT. You don’t notice someone in the doorway until you happen to look up and catch sight of their reflection in the black monitor screen at the back of the desktop. You rip your headphones off, heart jumping into your throat as you choke back a curse and swivel around in your chair.

Bang Sihyuk is standing at the threshold of the studio, one hand still raised to knock on the doorframe as he watches you try to regain your composure.

“Hello,” he says, quietly but not unkindly. “Did I interrupt you?”

“N-no, PD-nim,” you say quickly, standing up out of your chair to bend into a bow. “I was just reviewing some notes. I didn’t hear you come in, I’m sorry.”

“You seem hard at work.”

Sihyuk’s not a physically imposing guy – he’s kind of built like a teddy bear and right now he’s dressed casually, not at all like the head of a powerful music label. Still – being in his presence is intimidating and you realize you have no idea how to impress him.

“Trying to be,” you reply, offering him a small smile. “Would you like to sit down?”

“No, that’s alright. I wanted to stop in and see how you’re adjusting to your new role.”

You blink. “Oh – wow. Thank you, I…I’m loving my work here.”

Sihyuk regards you silently from behind his round-frame glasses. Waiting for you to say something else, you think. You clear your throat.

“You know I was more closely involved in production at Starship…I do miss it. But BigHit is where I want to be and I’m honored to be helping with our next idol group's development.”

Sihyuk nods, looking more satisfied with that answer. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and folds his arms.

“I appreciate your honesty,” he says evenly. “I also came by to ask for your support on a specific project. You speak English?”

“Yes, it’s my first language.”

“And you sing?”

You pause, unsure of how to answer that question. “Ah…I’m not a singer. I mean I can sing – um, kind of – and I know a bit about vocal training but – “

He holds up a hand, a small smile on his lips. “That’s plenty. We’re in need of someone to help a few of our vocalists with their English pronunciation before we record certain tracks for an upcoming album. I thought you might be well-suited for the task –  if you can make yourself available…”

“If I can m-make…I-I mean, of course,” you stammer out, brain struggling to catch up with what Sihyuk is saying. “I’m available. I’m here for whatever you need. For whatever BigHit needs.”

His smile deepens. “I’m glad to hear it. I’ll reach out to Pdogg and let him know to bring you on board – he’s heading the production on BTS’ projects, as you may know.”

Your brain is short-circuiting. It’s a long moment before you realize your mouth is hanging slightly open.

“Sure. Sure. I’ll wait to hear from him. Thank you, PD-nim.”

You give him a second (and this time extremely overzealous) bow, cheeks burning from the flush of excitement that creeps up from below your collar. Sihyuk leaves you standing alone in the studio space, mind racing with what this opportunity could mean for you.

Chapter Text

“Mouth open. Think about what your lips are doing. And press up with your tongue!”

Never in your life did you think you’d be saying this shit to a grown man.

Well…certainly not in a professional context.

Jeon Jungkook sits in front of you, eyes scrunched shut in concentration as he practices making a hard ‘L’ sound. He looks unbearably cute like this and you press your lips together to stop yourself from smiling too much.

You’ve been working with Jungkook – and Seokjin, and occasionally Jimin and Taehyung – for about two weeks now. He’s a great student and overall his English pronunciation is pretty solid, but you’ve been hammering him on certain letters and sounds for the last week – just to make sure the muscle memory kicks in when he’s singing. You’re not a vocalist but you know it’s harder to mind pronunciation while also juggling melody, breath and rhythm.

Jungkook eventually starts to lose the sound as a laugh bubbles up in his throat. He opens his eyes and looks at you with a wide, slightly sheepish grin.

“I feel so silly, noona,” he says, giving his head a toss to shake a long hank of dark hair back away from his face. “Do you think I’m getting better?”

“Of course you are,” you reassure him, standing up from your perch on the edge of the coffee table. “You make everything look easy, Kook.”

The maknae’s smile morphs into something sweet and toothy – almost bunny-like. After only two days, he’d practically begged you to speak informally with him and it seems he still gets a kick out of hearing you call him by his nickname.

There’s a brief knock at the studio door before it swings open to reveal Jimin and Namjoon. The younger of the two shoots you a grin and saunters easily across the small room to greet Jungkook. Though Jimin is barefaced and dressed in sweats and a soft crewneck, he still manages to put off a stupefying glow that makes you feel strangely giddy.

In comparison, you’ve found that Namjoon’s presence tends to put you at ease. You met him on the first day you’d met up with the vocalists and right away you recognized a calmness about him that made you feel comfortable. He looks tired today, you think, but still he greets you with a dimpled smile.

“Hey,” Namjoon says as he slips off his jacket and takes a seat on the couch. “You’re recording for us today?”

“Yup. Is it just you and Kook, Jimin-ssi?”

“Jin-hyung wasn’t sure you could handle more of us,” Jimin answers with a wink. “I told him you could, noona.”

You can’t resist a small eyeroll. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m hoping to get a few takes of the chorus and the bridge, but do you guys want to warm up a bit first?”

The younger members mumble in assent and shuffle off into the recording booth adjacent to the studio space. You take a seat at the desk in front of the monitor, setting yourself up with the correct files and programs while the two maknaes start in on a few vocal exercises. You reach for a pair of headphones.

“Could I hear how the song’s coming along?”

You turn to look over your shoulder. Namjoon opens up a notebook and settles against the arm of the couch, his eyes warm and curious.

“Yeah, of course,” you answer, setting the headphones aside. “Did you want to hear your part, or…?”

“No, the whole thing, if you don’t mind. I’ve been thinking about reworking my verse a bit but I wanna hear everything all together first.”

You nod. “Coming right up.”

You press play and settle back into your chair as the track starts. You’ve heard it so many times by now: a sunny, soothing pop track with a soaring chorus and heavy EDM-influence. It’s not exactly your kind of song, in terms of what you like to produce and listen to – but BTS is just so damn good at the happy-ballad thing that it’s a pleasure to work on the track. There’s something beautifully simple and uplifting about the lyrics that strikes a chord with you.

Still, the producer part of your brain whirrs away as the track plays on. There are a few things you’d change about it if you had your way. You chew on the inside of your cheek and tap your fingers against the desk, getting so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice when the track ends.

“What do you think?”

Namjoon’s voice startles you out of your reverie. You turn a few degrees in your chair to meet his eye.

“Hm?”

“The song,” he clarifies. He’s sitting toward the edge of the couch now, elbows resting on his knees. “I recognize that look on your face.”

“What look?” you ask, holding back a laugh. “I have a look??”

Namjoon grins. “I’ve seen it on Yoongi-hyung a thousand times. You’re thinking about what to do with the track – I wanna know what you think.”

Your cheeks warm. “Oh…I mean, I’m really only here to record. I shouldn’t – “

“It’s just me asking,” he says warmly. “And I’m just curious.”

Glancing back at the monitor, you weigh your options and take a deep breath. You don’t want to step out of your lane, but Namjoon seems to genuinely want your take…it’s hard to resist.

“Well,” you start, brushing your hair behind one ear. “I like the way it sounds, overall. It’s like a sister to ‘Epiphany’ – at least, that’s how I hear it. The lyrics are great, I know the vocals will come together…I just worry that they might get lost in the rest of the production.”

Namjoon nods, holding you in his gaze as he waits to hear more. You turn your chair to face him head-on.

“What if we kept the beat, but stripped the rest down – piano instead of synth, maybe a guitar? Something to lighten it up and leave room for the vocals to really shine through.”

There’s a pause as Namjoon thinks on your ideas. A knock against the glass in the recording booth drags your attention back to the present moment – you swing around to see Jimin waving at you from the other side of the panel. He and Jungkook must be ready to go.

“Ah…anyway,” you shrug, feeling kind of silly. “I’m just rambling. I should let these guys get started.”

“No, I like where your head’s at,” Namjoon says earnestly. “Are you working on your own version?”

You pause in cueing up the track for recording. “I wasn’t going to, but…if I did, it would just be for fun.”

“Could you send it to me if you do put something together?”

You look back at Namjoon again. He seems like he’s for real – he looks interested, almost hopeful.

“…Y-yeah. Yeah, of course – I can do that.”

His face cracks into another broad smile. A warm feeling creeps into your bones, like you just stepped into a patch of sunshine.

“Great. Let me make sure you have my email…”

You stayed up late working on the track. Just for fun turned into a brief obsession and you tore through the edits over the course of a couple hours, hunched over your laptop and keyboard on your bed as you nursed a glass of wine. You sent it off to Namjoon before dragging yourself off to the bathroom for a long shower.

When you came back to your room – wrapped in a towel and still shaking out your wet hair – there were multiple texts from an unknown number on your phone.

Unknown [01:27]: wow

Unknown [01:27]: i listened to the whole thing

Unknown [01:28]: is this too late to text you? it’s namjoon btw

Holy shit. You drop on to your bed, squinting at your phone as if you may have read the text incorrectly. Once you’re sure you aren’t hallucinating, you add his number to your contacts and tap out your reply.

Y/N [01:43]: hi namjoon – thanks for listening! i’m glad you liked it :)

You wonder if the smiley face was too much. To your surprise, the little typing bubble pops up right away.

NJ [01:44]: i loved it. if you have other things you’re working on, i’d love to listen to them too

Other things? Your mind races as you re-read his text.

Y/N [01:46]: i don’t have any other bangtan tracks, only txt and some original stuff

Y/N [01:46]: just things i’m playing around with

Namjoon types for a long while. You draw your knees up to your chest, chewing on your lip as you watch the bubble on your screen.

NJ [01:49]: i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. but if there is something you have that you’re working on and you like, just throwing it out there that i would give it a listen anytime

You flop backwards into the middle of your bed, arms splayed out to your sides as you look up at the ceiling. You get a feeling like there’s a balloon full of butterflies inflating in your chest.

To have an in with an artist like BTS – it’s so much more than you ever experienced or thought possible, even when you got hired by BigHit. You think back to when you joined Starship and assumed it would be the peak of your career; you can remember signing your contract and feeling certain that you’d found the right label – that they’d give you room to make the kind of music you were truly passionate about.

You came to here to carve out your career in an industry that valued range and innovation. You were tired of the overdone tropes in Western music that you were forced to imitate again and again as a young producer. You loved Korean artists and creators for their fearlessness when it came to genre, and you felt like you’d fit right in once you got to Seoul.

You were wrong.

The first two years were brutal. No matter how much you practiced your Korean or honed your streetstyle, you couldn’t change the fact that you looked and sounded different from almost everyone around you. That kind of thing may have given you an edge back home – but here, it made people wary of you. Doubtful. You couldn’t really blame them – but still: the months without close friends or connections strung together in a seemingly endless chain, and it wore your soul down thin.

You hung out at bars, clubs, underground dancehalls – anywhere there was live music of some kind. Eventually you made a real friend in the scene – Songhee, a tiny but seriously feisty DJ who’s still your closest female friend on this continent – and things started to fall into place. One connection led to another; someone took the time to listen to some of your beats and passed them on to a friend at Starship. After so much struggle, it felt like the biggest possible break.

That was only a year ago. Since then, you’d learned that you’re even pickier about music than you thought – and that the people you spend your time with matter just as much as the job opportunity itself. You can’t make good music in a vacuum. You need to be surrounded by people who challenge you, and Starship couldn’t really give you that. You’re giddy but also a little terrified at the thought that BigHit could.

You wonder where this job will take you, and how far you’ll go…you also wonder what it will take from you. How it will change you. What – or who – will be left at the end…

As if to jolt you back to reality, your phone buzzes in your hand.

NJ [01:58]: also – i have some studio time booked at the end of the week. can you join? only if you want

Nope. This can’t be reality.

“Thanks again for inviting me…”

Have you already said that?? You have no clue.

You’re bordering on delirious when Namjoon leads you into his studio a few days after he’d first put the offer out on the table. It’s not Namjoon’s presence that sets you edge – it’s the studio space itself, and the other people in it.

It’s a beautiful room. You can tell it’s Namjoon’s from the way it’s decorated with calming colors, a few figurines and some small plants. Namjoon looks at home here in a tracksuit and glasses, his hair straight and face bare. His set-up is pretty simple but you know it’s high-end.

As soon as you enter the studio, your eyes land on Bang Sihyuk and Pdogg. Your heart thuds against your ribcage and you have about three seconds to determine whether it’s from fear or excitement before both men are looking at you. Mercifully, Namjoon steps in to make introductions.

“Y/N-ssi is the newest addition to our production team, as you know,” Sihyuk explains to Pdogg after you all shake hands. He knows??

Pdogg nods, peering at you through his glasses and running the pad of a finger over his goatee in an appraising way. He’s wearing round frames similar to the ones that Sihyuk has on.

“You’re working with TXT, right?” he asks. “You must have your hands full with them.”

You lift one shoulder. “They’re professionals. Kids, yeah – but they take direction well.”

Pdogg smiles. “You don’t look much more than a kid yourself.”

You pause, unsure of how to take his comment. You’re fairly young, true, and certainly new to the company – but you’re also pretty confident in your skills.

“Maybe – but I still make sure the members call me noona,” you answer, matching his smile. The two older men laugh and you give them a short bow. “I hope my work can speak for itself, regardless of my age.”

The conversation segues smoothly away from you and on to the session at hand. Sihyuk takes off after a short while, leaving you to watch as Pdogg and Namjoon work on one of BTS’ rapline-heavy tracks. You chime in occasionally but stay mostly quiet as they play around with the adlibs and debate over whether or not to sample older tracks. Pdogg seems to like your takes, and it’s all you can do to keep from bursting with glee when Namjoon offers to send him some of your original work.

About an hour goes by before you really start to relax and take in your surroundings. Eager to stretch your legs, you toddle around the small studio to take a closer look at some of the equipment and art. At some point, Pdogg pauses and steps into the hallway to take a call; you take the opportunity to wander into the recording booth while Namjoon is busy fiddling with edits on the monitor.

There’s not much in the space: microphone, sound-absorbent padding on the walls, a folding chair and a small table. A notebook lies open on the table; at first you don’t think much of it, but a few lines of scrawled writing catch your eye:

no one told me

how lonely it is here

that my leap can be my fall

You take a step closer, gently resting the fingertips of one hand against the page as you squint to read further.

people say, in that bright light, it’s splendor

but my shadow rather grows even bigger

swallows me, and becomes a monster

The sound of voices floats in from the studio space – Pdogg must be done with his call – but the noise barely registers with you.

You can feel it: that sense of slipping away from the world that creeps in when you’re truly captivated by something. Usually it happens with music – but these are just lyrics on a page. You let your eyes travel further down the lines, eager to understand the story in front of you.

that moment I’m flying high as I wished

my shadow grows larger, beat down upon by that light

the moment that I face myself at--

Before you can finish reading the lyric, a hand closes around your wrist.

Your heart is in your throat in an instant. Looking up from the notebook, you find a pair of dark eyes staring back into yours. Eyes framed by long lashes – long for a man, at least – and slightly asymmetrical lids. Eyes that are hard, guarded – but also full of flecks of light that look like stars. The combination throws you off.

His hair is blonde, almost silver – he’s got pale skin and his hair should make him look washed-out but it doesn’t. In fact, he’s kind of…glowing. No one should look this dewy under fluorescent lighting, you think.

A squeezing sensation pulls your attention back to the present moment: your hand is still on the notebook. You feel your ears get hot, pulse thumping where the man’s fingers press against the fine skin on your wrist. Your mouth goes dry.

“That’s private.”

His voice is deep and flat, pitched as if he doesn’t want to be overheard but you can hear a tinge of warning behind his words. You try to wet your lips before swallowing thickly.

“I – I didn’t mean…I’m sorry…”

He slowly lifts your hand from the page, eyes still fixed on yours. Watching you start to squirm under his gaze as he runs his tongue against the inside of his cheek. The heat in your ears spreads to your face.

“The lyrics – they c-caught my eye, that’s all,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. You clear your throat. “I thought they were b– “

He doesn’t wait to hear the rest of your comment. The words die on your lips as he looks away and releases his grip on your wrist, taking the notebook from the table and turning to leave all in one smooth movement. Before you know it you’re standing by yourself in the recording space with your mouth hanging open.

Like an idiot.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, willing the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Or for a meteor to strike the earth and decimate the planet. Or for spontaneous combustion. For anything, really, that might detract from the feeling of absolute mortification sinking into your bones right now.

It takes all the strength you have to walk back into the studio space. You see that Pdogg is still gone and it’s a small mercy. You’re hopeful that most of the color has left your face – until Namjoon sees you re-enter the room and claps his hands together.

“Y/N-ssi,” he says cheerily. You briefly wish for spontaneous combustion to strike him as well. “I’ve been waiting to introduce you to Yoongi-hyung.”

You knew it was him, of course. People always look a little different in person, but you’d recognize any member of BTS in a heartbeat. Min Yoongi was no different. You didn’t expect him to be so…intense – but then again you hadn’t planned on meeting him in such a deeply awkward way. He cuts a huge figure in the industry and you’d hoped for a chance to impress him with your work.

It doesn’t look like you’ll get that chance now, you think. Namjoon says his name but Yoongi doesn’t look up from stuffing his notebook into a backpack. He doesn’t even cast a glance in your direction as the younger man leaves an obvious space for the exchange of greetings. Silence stretches on in the room and you feel the heat creeping back into your cheeks.

Yoongi takes a seat on the couch, face impassive as he addresses Namjoon. “Did PD-nim show you the adlibs that Hob-ah recorded last week?”

Namjoon’s eyes flick to meet yours briefly. He gives Yoongi a slow nod. “Yeah – I think we’ll keep them on your verse.”

“Mm,” the older man hums. “Good. I thought you’d like the way it sounded.”

The two carry on in conversation for a bit. You’re still standing awkwardly in the doorway to the recording booth, unsure of what to do with yourself. You consider making a break for the door when Namjoon glances at you again.

“Hyung – you got my text this morning, right?”

Yoongi yawns. “I’m here, aren’t I? I thought we were going to look at that track – the one you sent me last week.”

Your stomach churns uncomfortably. 

“Right,” Namjoon says, rubbing his jaw. “Ah…so –“

“I listened to it again last night – a few times. It’s good. Interesting.”

“Yoongi-yah –“

“Did you track down the producer? I thought you said – ”

“Yoongi-yah,” Namjoon repeats, this time a bit louder. The older man falls silent, lips still parted as he pauses midsentence.

Namjoon turns slightly in his chair and gestures toward you with both hands. Yoongi’s eyes pan slowly over to you and you can see the wheels turning in his head. You want to bolt, but you feel glued to the spot by his stare.

“I asked Y/N-ssi to join the session today,” Namjoon explains, his voice softer now. “She’s the producer I told you about. She’s new to BigHit – but she’s gifted. I thought your styles would work well together.”

A warm feeling spreads in your chest at his words. Namjoon looks at you with a smile in his brown eyes and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from wrapping him in a huge hug. A spark of courage helps you straighten up and meet Yoongi’s gaze.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Yoongi-ssi,” you say evenly. You dip into a brief bow. “I’m – “

“I know who you are,” he drawls, cutting you off. You freeze, taken off guard once again.

Yoongi crosses his arms, his upper body leaned back into the couch as he spreads his knees and continues to pin you with his dark eyes. “You’re the hire from Starship.”

You swallow back a surge of anxiety. “Yes. I was with them for about a year.”

“Did you enjoy your time there?”

“…For the most part, yes.”

“Where were you before Starship?”

You pause, shifting on your feet. “I…was working in a café. Making music at night. Starship was my first real job in the industry here.”

Yoongi blinks slowly at you and you will yourself not to blush. 

“What did they have you working with over there?”

“…I’m sorry?”

He huffs out a breath. “Software – Ableton, Logic, Pro Tools…?”

“I’m comfortable with all of them,” you answer. “If you have concerns about my level of experience – “

He smirks at that – actually smirks.

“Just wondering what bad habits you brought with you.”

Your face flushes hot with something other than embarrassment. 

“You tell me,” you answer, crossing your arms to match his pose. “You listened to the track Namjoon-ssi sent you. Sounds as if you liked what you heard.”

Namjoon coughs quietly. For a split second, you think you see a flash of surprise on Yoongi’s face – but it’s gone just as fast as it appeared. He licks his lips and shrugs.

“One track doesn’t speak for a body of work.”

You have half a mind to call him out for what happened in the recording booth – clearly he’s prickly over that but you can’t help but think there’s something else going on here, too.  You’d love to know what it is but your mouth gets ahead of you.

“I’m curious – is this how you treat all new hires? Or just the ones who happen to be women…”

Yoongi’s eyebrows pull together in confusion – or annoyance, you can’t tell. Maybe both.

He sits up straighter on the couch.

“What?” he scoffs. “That’s ridiculous, I – “

“No offense,” you cut him off, forcing a sugary smile on to your face. “I just thought the theme of this conversation was making unfair assumptions based on limited experience of another person.”

Now Yoongi’s wheels aren’t just turning – they’re malfunctioning. You watch as his mouth opens and shuts a couple times, but no sound comes out.

Taking a deep breath to slow your raging heartbeat, you look over at Namjoon: he’s got his fingers steepled together just above the bridge of his nose.

“I have to go, Namjoon-ssi,” you say, carefully avoiding Yoongi’s eyes as you take up your backpack from the ground by the doorway. “Tell Pdogg I said thank you. I appreciate the opportunity to see the work he’s doing with BTS.”

Namjoon looks like he wants to say something, but he just nods. You let yourself into the hallway without another word and close the door quietly behind you.

Chapter Text

“So are you still BigHit’s bitch, or what?”

“You can’t say that, Songhee.”

“What – BigHit? No one’s around…”

You glance up at the nail technician across from you. “No, you can’t say bitch like that. It’s misogynistic.”

Songhee scoffs, tossing a curtain of sleek hair over her shoulder. It’s straight these days, jet black save for a lavender money-piece framing her long face. She slips her hands into the nail dryers on either side of the station she’s seated at, straightening her posture in a prissy kind of way.

“We’re two young women living in a developed country that’s consistently ranked among the highest in the world on the gender inequality index,” she says succinctly. “Let’s fucking live a little. Take back the word for ourselves.”

The woman doing Songhee’s nails smirks. You wonder if she speaks English or if she’s somehow just dialed in to your friend’s energy. That tends to happen a lot: Songhee has a way of being totally abrasive and completely engaging at the same time.

“OK,” you concede, lips spreading into a smile against your will. “Fair point – but no, I’m not their bitch. I think I might actually get involved on some pretty amazing projects.”

“Like the stuff you’re doing with the baby idols? TST?”

“Tee-ex-tee…that too, but I mean I think I have a chance to work with some bigger acts…”

Songhee’s chair lets out a shrill squeak as she pivots to face you. Her nail technician frowns and reaches for your friend’s half-manicured hand. Songhee narrows her eyes in your direction.

“Oh, you little rat,” she hisses, shaking her head slowly side to side. “I knew it.”

You laugh. “What? Why am I a little rat?!”

“I told you this would happen.”

“Stop it.”

“I told you,” she says louder. “You get picked up by this hotshot label, someone with half a brain notices your talent and next thing you know you’re catering to ‘the pride of South Korea.’ I TOLD you!!”

Songhee has a complex about BTS. About K-pop in general, really. You get it; you got your start in the same underground circles as Songhee and you can’t say you never had a chip on your shoulder about the mainstream music industry. Now that you’re working for a label seated at the pinnacle of that industry – and now that you’ve met more than a few good souls along the way – you see things differently. Songhee is still torn by feelings of resentment, envy and pure admiration.

“Down, girl,” you giggle.

“Oh, and that’s not misogynistic??”

“It totally is. Aren’t you a little bit happy for me?”

Songhee huffs. “Of course I am. You’re the shit. You deserve it. And as much as I hate to admit it…”

You turn slightly to look at her when she trails off. She’s chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“…I’m dying to know what they’re like.”

“They? They who?”

Songhee clicks her tongue. “Come on. The members, the PD-nims…are you gonna make me name them out loud?”

“Um – yeah, please don’t do that…”

“What are they like? Are you friends with them? Have you been in their studios??”

You bite your lip. “Well…I’ve been in one of their studios a few times, but…”

-----

It’s Thursday and you’re literally skipping down the hallway. You’ve had way too much coffee and have been hyper all morning, but after getting a text from Namjoon inviting you to his studio you’re practically bouncing off the walls.

You’ve been to Namjoon’s studio once since the first time he’d brought you into the session with PDogg. He invited you to share lunch with him and you ended up hanging out and talking for a couple hours. You found it incredibly easy to relax, even goof off around Namjoon. You share a certain dorky sense of humor with him and that evening seemed to solidify your relationship. He let you listen to a few side projects he’s been working on, and today he’s asked if you would help him record a few verses.

You’re on your way to Kim Namjoon’s personal studio. To record him rapping. To hear his own work, verses he wrote himself. Skipping isn’t enough in this moment. You’re a beam of fucking sunshine. Nothing can take this happiness away, you think.

You swipe your keycard at the door to the production wing, slowing to a giddy shuffle as you make your way down the hall as quickly and quietly as possible. The studio is unlocked so you go to let yourself in, a huge grin plastered on your face as you swing open the door.

“I’m HEEERE – aah!!”

Just as you start gleefully announcing your arrival, you trip. You tumble forward and narrowly miss the sharp edge of the coffee table on your way to the carpet. There’s a loud thud and a startled curse as you hit the ground like a ton of bricks.

Namjoon swivels around in his chair, eyes wide as he witnesses the very end of your epic spill. He pulls off the pair of headphones atop his head and jumps to his feet, reaching to help you up.

“Y/N-ssi – what the – are you alright??”

“I’m OK,” you groan, finding the wind nearly knocked out of you as you wave off his hand. “Fuck, my knee hurts though…”

You push yourself up to kneeling and look over your shoulder. A black backpack lies just inside the doorway – it must have tipped over when you came in and the strap caught your foot. Grateful you didn’t wear a skirt today, you get to your feet and dust off the front of your jeans.

“I’m so sorry, Namjoon-ssi,” you say earnestly. “I shouldn’t have busted in like that – “

You pause midsentence. Namjoon has a weird look on his face – mouth twisted, eyes scrunched shut like he’s bracing himself for something.

“…What is it?”

A loud knocking sound fills the studio. Yoongi’s standing on the other side of the glass in the recording booth, a dour look on his face as he gazes pointedly at Namjoon.

“Ah – Yoongi-yah,” Namjoon calls through the glass. There’s more than a tinge of worry in his voice. “I think I missed that take…can you try one more?”

The older man turns his glare to you and slowly shakes his head. Namjoon sighs, rubbing a hand over his brow.

“We’ve been trying to get this verse down all morning,” he says in a strained voice.

Your cheeks turn hot as Yoongi skulks into the room, the displeasure clear on his face before you even open your mouth to speak.

“S-sorry,” you stammer. “Um…I thought it was just Namjoon-ssi in here, I – “

“I texted her, hyung,” Namjoon interjects. “She’s been giving me good feedback on my mixtape. I thought we could use another set of hands today, we’re both pretty burnt out.”

Yoongi shrugs. “I’m not burnt out. I could go all day. Looks like I’ll have to, if we’re gonna be dealing with interruptions like this.”

You roll your eyes. It happens automatically – it’s basically your tic – and, naturally, Yoongi catches you in the act.

The glare returns. It would be more disconcerting if you didn’t already think of him as a total asshole – so instead of cowering, you cross your arms and stare back.

He’s dressed in ripped jeans and a thin white t-shirt that accentuates his slim build. You can just make out the shape of Yoongi’s collarbones as he moves his arms to mimic your stance, lifting his chin incrementally to look down the bridge of his nose at you. There’s a muscle ticking in his jaw and you spot his bow-shaped upper lip starting to curl. Between his expression and the pale color of his skin and hair, he looks like an angry, pretty ice prince...or something. 

You shake the thought from your head.

“Well…maybe you could salvage part of the verse?” you suggest, turning to Namjoon. “Could you just cut the recording and take it from there?”

“I don’t do hack-jobs,” Yoongi mutters.

Namjoon lets out a long exhale. “I don’t think it would be the same…I want to make sure we capture the flow of the whole verse – you know what I mean?”

You nod. “Of course. I’m sorry, Namjoon-ssi…”

The tall man waves a hand in your direction, dismissing your apology as he heads for the recording booth.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll jump in and try out those changes to my verse, Yoongi-yah…why don’t you walk Y/N-ssi through your process?”

Yoongi grimaces but unfolds his arms and takes a step toward the swivel chair in front of the monitor – just as you start to move in the same direction. He pauses, giving you a deadpan look before swiftly taking the seat for himself.

You’re tempted to wrap your hands around Yoongi’s throat – but instead you sidle right up next to him. His dark eyes trail from where you plant your hip against the edge of the desk up to your face. You smile back at him, batting your eyelashes.

“Where do we start, PD-nim?”

-----

“…I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” you finish.

Songhee holds one hand out in front of her, examining her manicure carefully. “So are they total dicks, then?”

“No,” you say emphatically. “God, no…”

“Well, what?” she presses. “I need more information here. Details. Give me anecdotes.”

“Ah – they’re…honest. Very loyal to one another,” you explain, doing your best to be diplomatic. “And I guess you could say they…

-----

“Faster – no, move your arms like this…OK, yes, now – faster!!”

You’re starting to sweat, your ponytail messy and coming loose as you swing your arms from left to right and back again. You look ridiculous – but so do Taehyung and Jungkook. You can tell you look ridiculous because Jin and Namjoon are looking on and Namjoon is doing that funny, honking kind of laugh he does when something really tickles him. A giggle loosens in your chest and you almost break your rhythm again.

“No!! No laughing! Concentrate, noona! Floss!!”

You’re in one of the practice-rooms in the BigHit building learning the finer points of flossing. Taehyung is barking orders at you while Jungkook gives earnest tips on the move. Originally you’d dropped by to let the maknaes and Jin know about a change in your schedule, but then you spotted Namjoon warming up for dance practice and the two of you got sucked into a giddy conversation about the new speakers you’d ordered for your home set-up. He gave you a suggestion on what equipment to buy and hooked you up with the deepest industry discount you’d ever heard of.

You’d jokingly asked Namjoon to show you the moves he’s working on today, which prompted Jin to start flossing and the maknaes to start squawking when you laughed and commented on how you’d never been able to do the dance correctly. Now, you’re getting a surprisingly good workout trying to keep up with their speed while stifling your laughter.

You might be getting a little too into this, you think – just as you swing your arm wide and catch Jungkook right in the hip with your fist with a thwapping noise. You gasp, recoiling and clutching your hand to your chest in horror.

“Jungkook-ssi – I – oh my God, I’m sorry,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry – “

Jungkook’s ears are red but he’s laughing. So is Taehyung, who just points at the similarly crimson color spreading up your neck to your cheeks.

“Noona!! You hit Jungkookie’s butt!”

You squeeze both hands tighter to your body, bending at the knees a bit as if you can shrink yourself into the floor. “I’m so fucking sorry!! And – shit, no – s-sorry for swearing, oh my God – “

You’re mortified but soon you’re laughing along with the four men. Jungkook is sweet – he assures you multiple times that he’s fine and there’s no reason to be embarrassed; Taehyung pulls you into a hug and teasingly pinches your cheeks and you’re so distracted by all the attention that you barely hear the door swing open.

“Hyung!! We taught noona a dance!”

You don’t even have to look to know it’s Yoongi. He just would show up at a moment like this. Jungkook wraps his arms around your shoulders and turns you to face the older man.

“Do you want to see?” the maknae asks, hanging off of you like a very large, muscular puppy.

Yoongi gives you a stony look and you return it. He’s got a black bucket hat pulled low over his eyes and a black mask covering most of his face; he’s swimming in a black oversized shirt, a black puffer coat and a pair of black…shorts.

You’ve never seen Yoongi in shorts and for a moment you’re transfixed by the sight of his skinny legs poking out from the mass of dark clothing on the rest of his body. It’s…disarming. Yoongi is a sourpuss and all, so the knowledge that he’s walking around on these pale, somewhat shapely stems is mildly adorable but also kind of satisfying. You will yourself not to comment as he shuffles around in his slides and tosses his backpack at the edge of the room.

“I’m good,” he drawls. “Can we get started?”

“Maybe Y/N-ah wants to stay and watch you dance, hyung,” Taehyung says, looking hopefully at Yoongi. You honestly can’t tell if he’s screwing with him or not.

You choke back a laugh. “Y-yeah – can I stay and watch?”

Yoongi ignores your question. He sheds his coat and looks to Namjoon. “We’re speaking informally now?”

The leader pauses, glancing at where you stand with the two maknaes. “I mean…”

“We call her noona, mostly!” Jungkook cuts in, eyes going round in earnest.

“It’s OK, Kook,” you say, patting the younger man on the arm and purposely using his nickname. “We can speak informally, as long as you’re comfortable with it.”

Namjoon gestures in your direction, still trying to be diplomatic. “Good, see? Y/N-ah…ah, Y/N-ssi – works closely with some of us. They can speak however they see fit.”

“You can call me whatever you want, Namjoon-ah” you say softly. You’d already started using more informal terms with him some time ago.

The tall man looks to you and his face cracks into a warm smile, which you return. Yoongi huffs loudly to ruin the moment.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” he asks flatly. “This is a closed practice and we have a lot to get through.”

You knew he would get snarky – you’ve yet to have a positive interaction with him – but still it irks you when he does. You plaster a pleasant look on your face despite the frustration and unease that stirs in the pit of your stomach.

“Of course,” you answer evenly, turning to the maknaes and Jin. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow evening, alright?”

They say goodbye and you make for the door, staying as far away from Yoongi as possible as you go. Before you’ve even gotten on hand on the doorknob, however, you hear him speak again.

“Why was she even here?”

Your jaw clenches. You want to say something, but you steel yourself and push your way through the door as quick as possible.

-----

“…they take their schedules very seriously,” you finish awkwardly.

There’s a pause. Songhee stares at you.

“What the fuck does any of that mean?”

You let out a heavy exhale, suddenly exhausted by this line of questioning.

“Songhee – “

“No, it’s fine,” she cuts you off. “You’re not giving me the whole story. I can tell.”

“I can’t talk about it, you know – “

“I do know, you’ve said it a million times,” she presses. Songhee fixes you with a somewhat softer look. “I can also tell the difference between you being all hush-hush and when you’re actually feeling some kind of way about something.”

You blink, cheeks warming. “I’m n-not – not feeling any way. About anything. I – “

“Look: I won’t expect you to tell me any of the hot office gossip,” she says. “But if you’re…having a hard time – for whatever reason…you can talk to me. I’m not gonna judge you.”

“Songhee, I’m fine. Why would you even say that?”

She shrugs, glancing down at her nails. “One second you’re all smug about working on special projects – and the next…once I brought up your coworkers, that smile disappeared.”

Oh. Leave it to Songhee to see straight through to your most vulnerable self. A touch of anxiety laces through your system. You shift in your seat.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “It’s nothing, really…I’m just having kind of a hard time getting along with some people. Well – with one person, but…it’s nothing.”

She watches your expression closely. You kind of hate when she does that. You think she’s going to ask more questions – or maybe offer to put a hit out on someone – but she says nothing for a while. When she speaks again, her voice sounds hollow – tired.

“It sucks being mistreated by the people you can’t help but look up to.”

You look over at her, surprised. Her eyes are trained on the wall behind the nail technician in front of her.

“Happens too often, to too many talented people in this industry. Especially women.”

You nod slowly. “I don’t…I don’t think it’s the fact that I’m a woman, though…”

You trail off. When it comes down to it, you have no idea why Yoongi dislikes you. You don’t actually think he’s a sexist pig – though you did kind of accuse him of that once…you know he and the other members have a positive reputation when it comes to their relationships with all the staff at BigHit. Maybe your awkward introduction was enough to seal your fate with Yoongi, or maybe he acts this way with everyone at first. What you do know – and what you’ve been reluctant to admit to yourself – is that it feels like shit. You hate being disliked and you hate how much it bothers you.

“…I just keep messing up and no matter what I do, I rub this person the wrong way. It doesn’t matter if I’m a total bitch to him or if I try and stay out of his way, we just…don’t get along.”

Songhee’s watching you again. You pull your hands out of the dryer and peer intently at your manicure and pray you don’t burst into tears. She reaches out a hand and places it gently on your shoulder, waiting until you meet her eye to speak.

“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but…using the word bitch is really misogynistic.”

You roll your eyes, swatting her hand away and (unsuccessfully) fighting back a smile. “Shut up, bitch.”

Songhee cackles. Before you can berate each other any further, your phone buzzes in your lap. You look down to check the caller.

“Oh, shit – do you care if I take this?”

“Nah,” your friend says, still coming down from her fit of evil laughter. “I’m gonna stay and get my toes done, I think. You go on and text me you get home.”

You leave Songhee at her station, pushing the glass door of the salon open with one hand as you bring your phone up to your ear.

“Hey!”

“Hi.”

There’s a smile in Jooheon’s voice. If you try hard enough, you can picture his dimples in your mind’s eye.

“What’s up, stranger?”

“Funny – I was calling to ask you the same question, actually…”

“Ahh…I see,” you say thoughtfully. “Not trying to squeeze production secrets out of me? Maybe some company intel?”

“No. I’ll leave that to Changkyun. He said he’s been messaging you about getting help with his solo stuff but you keep leaving him on read.”

You bite your lip. “Damn…that’s true, actually – “

He laughs into the receiver.

“ – I keep forgetting to message him back,” you explain, holding back a laugh of your own. “He must be pissed.”

“Mm. Somewhat. I think he misses you more than anything. Just won’t admit it.”

“Such a cranky little guy,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m sure he just misses my magic touch.”

Jooheon clears his throat. “Ah – right. About that…”

You raise an eyebrow, curious to hear what he says next.

“…Yes?”

There’s a pause before he speaks again. The silence makes you a little uneasy.

“I miss you. Can I see you this week?”

“…Oh. You mean, like hang out?”

“Yeah. I’ve got some room in my schedule – I could come over, make you dinner…whatever you want.”

A gust of wind batters your cheeks as you stand on the street outside of the salon. You turn your back to it and huddle the receiver closer to your mouth.

“Um – this week isn’t good, Joo. I’m kind of slammed right now – “

“I know, I know,” he says, a little hurriedly. “I know you’re busy. What about the weekend?”

You run over your schedule in your head. You’d intended to spend some serious time in the studio this weekend; you have some production ideas you need to work out before the TXT members are free for recording next week. Plus you’ve been leaving your evenings kind of open – in case Namjoon texts you –

“I’d love to, really – but I just don’t have time,” you answer gently. “I’ve got all these projects going on…and it’s still so early. I can’t mess things up at work, Joo.”

He pauses again. “I know that. I’m not…I’m not trying to mess things up, Y/N.”

Jooheon’s voice sounds tense. Guilt swirls in with the pit of anxiety in your gut. “I didn’t mean – “

“I just want to see you,” he says, softer.

You scuff the toe of your shoe against the ground. “I want to see you, too…”

“We said we would take some space…and we did, right?” he continues. “It’s been two months.”

Two months. Has it really? You rub a hand against your forehead, suddenly feeling a headache coming on.

“Yeah, I guess it has been…”

There’s a pause again – longer, this time.

“Don’t you miss me?”

“Of course I do,” you say quickly. Maybe a little too quickly. “That’s not it, I…I just don’t want to get distracted.”

“…And I’m a distraction?” Jooheon asks hollowly. “I’m your friend, Y/N.”

You huff out a breath. “I know. I’m sorry, just – “

You chew at the inside of your cheek, feeling caught – unable to put the right words together. You do miss Jooheon. You are swamped at work. You’re not entirely sure how to remedy both of those things, but you know you can’t afford to let the ball drop at BigHit. You take a deep breath.

“Look – I miss you, and Minnie, and all the members. You and I were – are­ ­– close, and I think for the most part, it’s been good for us to have some space. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that shit.”

Jooheon stays silent. You will yourself to continue.

“I just can’t pick things back up again right now, OK? I need a little more time to get settled. Besides – you must be batting women away by the dozen, with all the promo you guys are doing. Your face is everywhere!!”

He exhales into the phone, a hint of a laugh on his breath. “By the dozen, huh?”

“Yes!! Seriously – you must have some secret, K-pop idol girlfriend by now. Like, if you don’t already, you should – “

“I can’t date, remember?”

You scoff. “Pfft. Right. Like anyone’s ever followed that rule.”

Jooheon hums. “Can’t argue with you there.”

“Exactly,” you say, forcing a smile into your voice. “Hey – I’m on the street and I need to call a ride, OK? I gotta let you go.”

“Alright, Y/N.”

“I’ll call you soon, Joo. OK?”

He hums again and hangs up. You slip your phone into your pocket and soon your feet are moving across the pavement, carrying you toward the nearest metro station as a light rain starts to fall. You hope you get home before it really starts to come down.

Chapter Text

“…so if we consider comeback and debut dates across the industry – the ones we know about, at least –  what are we left with?”

“Maybe late summer – early fall?”

“That puts us right before all the end of the year award ceremonies…they’d be lost in the press.”

“But if we delay much longer – “

“The members aren’t going anywhere. They’re antsy, but they have a good team behind them.”

“They’re still very young.”

“They’re ready – some of them have been ready for more than a year – “

You exhale heavily through your nose, leaning back in your chair as the debate about TXT’s debut continues to ping-pong around the conference room. What started as a meeting about the tracklist for the group’s first mini-album quickly morphed into a discussion about their overall fate, which will be largely determined by the timing of their first showcase. The topic is making you antsy – you wonder if you should excuse yourself and leave this decision to Sihyuk and the handful of managers in the room. You glance over to your left, where Namjoon, Wonderkid and a couple other members of the production team are grouped at the far end of the table nearest the door. They don’t really have a place in this discussion either, you think.

It’s early afternoon, your stomach is growling and you’d really love to get outside and find something for lunch. You’re starving – the more you think about it, the harder it is to ignore the aching pit in your stomach. You focus on Namjoon to distract yourself: he’s talking now, eyebrows lifting slightly as he gestures with his broad, soft hands and speaks to someone on the other side of the room. There’s a beam of sunlight falling across his body, illuminating his face and giving his skin a lovely, burnished look that has you wondering about his moisturizing habits. You should ask about his skincare routine. Maybe over lunch – he must be hungry too, you think…maybe he’ll play hooky and dip out of this meeting if you suggest it. Maybe –

“Y/N-ssi?”

“Hm?”

You snap out of your wandering thoughts and realize everyone is looking at you. Perfect.

“Namjoon-ssi said you had some ideas about the latest track you’ve been working on with the members,” Sihyuk says.

“Oh,” you say, straightening up and clearing your throat. “Yeah, I – I mean we have most of the vocals recorded. The guide was really well done – “

“Yoongi-ssi and I did the guide,” Wonderkid supplies.

“Ah – well, it’s great! No complaints there. I like the overall direction it’s going in…”

You pause, glancing over at Namjoon. He looks back at you and gives a small, encouraging nod.

“…I showed what we have to Namjoon-ssi and he was kind enough to hear me out on some points that I think are coming out a little rough,” you explain. “Not bad – just…not right, either.”

Sihyuk nods. The other staff in the room look between you and him.

“Go on.”

“I think it could sound great if we slowed it down, made it less poppy,” you suggest, willing yourself to hold the senior producer’s gaze. “TXT has a whole field of similar groups to contend with at their debut – we should focus on making their sound stand out, right from the start. I played with the beat pad a bit and added a minor chord progression – “

“We were asked to produce something bright and poppy,” Wonderkid interjects – firmly, but not unkindly. “The guide was approved months ago.”

You falter. “Right…like I said, the guide is fine – um…”

“We think a different sound is better, in this case,” Namjoon pipes up. His deep voice fills the room and just the sound of it – of him saying we – restores your confidence.

“If we produce something edgier – cooler – we’d be setting TXT up with an advantage at their debut,” you continue. “They’re going to represent the next generation of male groups, so they can – should –  set their own tone. We should capitalize on that and go for a more unique sound.”

“Y/N-ssi worked on an alternate version of the track. I’ve heard it – it’s good,” Namjoon says, flashing you a quick smile. “Like future R&B.”

You look back over at Sihyuk, who’s rubbing at his chin with one stubby hand. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and shifts his gaze to Wonderkid.

“Future R&B,” he says thoughtfully. “I think it sounds apt for what we’re hoping to do with this kind of group.”

Wonderkid scratches at a sideburn. “It’s up to you, PD-nim…Yoongi-yah and I can help develop a new version, if that’s the direction you’d like us to go.”

“I trust where it’s headed already,” the producer responds. He looks to you. “Send your version to the rest of the team. If you need to re-record anything, you have free use of the studios. I’d like to see you take more of a lead on this project.”

You flush. “Absolutely – thank you, PD-nim.”

“You should thank Namjoon-ssi,” he says with a hint of a smile. “He seems determined to put in a good word for you at every turn.”

The meeting wraps up soon after that. Namjoon catches your eye on the way out and sends you a wink before he takes off with two other staff members. You follow the rest of the group out of the conference room and head for the elevators, eager to meet up with the trainees and get to work.

You reach the third floor and find the practice-room you’ve been assigned to for the afternoon. You step into the room with a huge smile on your face and find all five members waiting there for you.

“Hey guys,” you beam.

Five shaggy heads turn to you at the sound of your arrival, and there’s a smattering of greetings as the members shuffle to greet you.

“Hi, noona!”

“We made sure to be on time today.”

“Have you eaten yet??”

You grin at the way the three youngest members speak over one another. As usual, the leader – Soobin – hangs at the back of the little cluster, a shy smile appearing on his face when you meet his eye. Yeonjun – the opposite of shy – gets up from his seat at the piano and saunters over to reach for your hand and bend his long frame into a bow.

 “You look happy, noona,” he comments, mouth curving into a smile as his large eyes scan your face. “I assume you’re just glad to see me..."

You roll your eyes. “I’m happy to see all of you. I just came from a meeting and I have some updates for you guys…”

You let the members usher you into a chair and they settle down on the ground before you explain the changes you have planned for the track you’ve been working on with them. Taehyun and Kai listen intently, sitting cross-legged on the floor as they nod along and watch your every gesture with large, eager eyes. Beomgyu sits nearest to you with his two skinny legs stretched out before him as he fiddles with a thread on his sweatpants. Soobin and Yeonjun remain standing just behind the other three, lanky forms leaned against the wall of the practice-room.

“We’ll need to re-record some parts this week,” you explain apologetically. “I know you all worked hard on this, and I know this must be frustrating to hear…”

“Did PD-nim not like what we made?” Beomgyu asks quietly from beside you.

“No – that’s not it at all,” you answer hurriedly. “This was my fault, really. I made the suggestion to change the song.”

“And Namjoon sunbae-nim agreed,” Soobin adds.

The younger members twist around to look at their leader when he pipes up. You glance at Yeonjun – he must have told Soobin about taking your ideas to Namjoon.

“We’ll do whatever you ask of us,” Yeonjun says, looking back at you steadily. You see him nudge Soobin with his elbow.

“Y-yes – anything you need, noona,” Soobin says quickly. “We’ll work harder.”

Kai nods earnestly in agreement, and you resist the urge to reach over and squeeze his cheeks.

“Thanks, guys,” you say, allowing them a warm smile before clapping your hands together and standing up. “Alright – you should all get warmed up and then we can go over the change in chord progression. Sound good?”

The members murmur in assent and split off in small groups to start their vocal exercises. You move to the piano bench, taking out your phone and pulling up a series of notes you’d made about the track. 

“Are you hungry?” Yeonjun asks, sliding on to the piano bench to sit next to you.

You look up from your phone. “Hungry? Um, I mean…”

You see he’s already reaching for his backpack that’s propped up beside the piano. He unzips the bag and reaches a long arm inside to pull out a square container.

“You always forget to eat lunch,” he says simply, no trace of teasing in his voice. “Here - I brought extra to share…”

Yeonjun pulls back the lid of the container and holds it out to you. You see that it’s full of melon – your favorite – and instantly you remember the way your stomach was threatening to growl in the meeting.

“Are you sure?” 

Yeonjun just grins. You reach for a piece of the pale yellow fruit. 

“It’s not much,” he says, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “But I figured you could use a snack.”

The sweetness of the fruit explodes in your mouth and you hum contentedly. Yeonjun watches you take another piece, chuckling a bit as you nibble at it. He hands you the container and swivels around to face the piano keys. He situates himself closer to you – close enough that his shoulder brushes yours – and starts plinking out a few quiet scales.

“This is perfect,” you say in between bites, pausing to look over at him. “You’re amazing, Junnie. Thank you." 

Yeonjun smirks a little. “You know I’d do pretty much anything to make you smile.”

Yeonjun’s eyes are dark, oddly disarming – especially now as he fixes his unyielding attention on you. You click your tongue, ready to brush off his comment.

“Yeonjun-ah...”

“I’m serious,” he adds, more quietly than before. “You’re so good to us. And I’m happy that we get to make your song.”

Your cheeks flush. “Pfft – it’s not my song, I mean…really…”

“It is now.”

You click your tongue again but you can’t hide how pleased you are. The thought of having your name listed near to first on the production credits of a BigHit track is enough to make you giddy. Yeonjun bumps you with his shoulder.

“Are you happy, noona?”

“I am.”

“Mm. Good. You look prettier when you’re happy...”

You scoff, standing up from the bench in an attempt to interrupt his line of flattery. Yeonjun just laughs, watching you move back to the folding chair with a mischievous look in his eye.

“Did I tell you I wrote a song about you?” he says cutely.

“Junnie…”

“I’m serious!! It took me hours – I stayed up all night working on it,” he says, trying to put on a serious face. He starts tapping out a simple melody on the keys.

“I’m sure it’s a masterpiece, but we need to practice - "

“Shh – just sit back and listen…”

You press your lips together, doing your best to hide your smile as Yeonjun starts in on a (definitely improvised) song about your love for Korean melon. It’s not long before you dissolve into laughter, though, and you forget about the schedule you’re supposed to be keeping today. As you sit there – surrounded by the members, serenaded by Yeonjun – you start to wonder if you’ve finally found your place at BigHit.

Yoongi is tired.

He’s always at least a little bit exhausted – some of this is obviously due to his profession and lifestyle, but it’s also kind of a personality trait. Today, however, he’s totally spent. All wrung out. DEFCON-1-level-sleepy and time for a nap is nowhere in sight.

He, Hobi and Jimin were held latest at the Run! BTS shooting last night and he skipped out on the shuttle ride back to the dorm in favor of spending some time in his studio. He hasn’t had much time for that, lately, with press tours approaching and a constant stream of new choreo to learn. Yoongi ordered takeaway, brewed a pot of strong coffee and holed himself up in the production wing until the sun came up. It was glorious.

This morning has not been glorious. Mercifully, there was no dance practice scheduled – but Yoongi did get pulled in for a long and very boring meeting with some of the other members and the management team. He nearly fell asleep multiple times, head lolling forward heavily before snapping back up as he tried to shake himself into wakefulness. He’s pretty sure he even drooled a little bit…but hopefully no one saw that.

It’s almost noon now, and Yoongi needs a break. Jungkook – precious creature that he is – agreed to run down to the café on the bottom floor and pick up iced coffees for everyone before their next schedule, so Yoongi’s hanging around the third-floor lobby until he gets back. It’s a nice part of the building, he thinks – comfy couches, lots of sunny spots; it’s mostly quiet unless the nearby practice rooms are booked and busy. Sometimes when Yoongi has a spare minute, he’ll linger here and listen in on whatever the other BigHit acts are working on.

Right now, he can hear vocalists warming up. Someone hitting a run with perfect pitch. A few soft notes played on a piano. Then, the sound of laughter cutting through it all.

A bud of warmth blooms in Yoongi’s stomach. It’s a girl laughing, from what he can tell. The sound is warm and bright – loud enough to suggest the person has a good set of lungs on them. It pulls Yoongi out of his tired stupor and his feet carry him to where the noise drifts from a practice space a little ways down the corridor. Lingering on the opposite side of the hall from the doorway, he goes far enough to catch a glimpse inside.

It’s you. The girl laughing…is you.

Yoongi’s stomach flips in a weird way and he gets an instant tension headache – but he stays put. He’s afraid someone might see him lurking in the hallway if he makes any sudden movements…and he’s also strangely drawn into the scene in front of him.

One of the TXT members – Yeonjun, the oldest one – is sitting at the piano. He’s got his fingers on the keys, picking out a few notes in a funny melody as he looks back over his shoulder at where you sit a few feet away on a folding chair. There’s a broad smile on his face; he’s singing something to you but Yoongi can’t make out the words over the sound of the other vocalists going through their warm-ups.

Whatever it is, it has you in stitches. Yoongi watches as you double over, hair spilling forward over your shoulders as you laugh. When you straighten up again, your face looks a little flushed; there’s pink in your cheeks and a shine in your eyes that Yoongi has definitely never seen before. You have your arms wrapped around your middle and you tip your head back as a fresh wave of giggles hits. The sound is like bells. He can tell you’re totally immersed in the moment – you can’t help the laughter that’s pouring out of you. You look relaxed, and somehow younger than he’s ever noticed.

This can’t be right, Yoongi thinks – this can’t be the same person who keeps inserting her very irritating presence into his workday. He watches as you stand up and cross over to Yeonjun; you use both hands to ruffle the younger man’s hair until he reaches up to take one of your wrists and stills you. You’re both laughing now. You let out a happy yelp as Yeonjun tugs you down to sit beside him on the piano bench.

Hmph. Yoongi feels his mood sour and quickly moves away, headed back toward the lobby. Jungkook should be here soon and besides, he’s seen enough to prove a theory he’s been building for a while now.

You save your bratty behavior just for him, Yoongi thinks. It seems as if your mission in life is to get in his way – to interrupt recording sessions, question his methods, and occasionally sabotage his snack schedule. Just last week he’d stashed a few tangerines in the back of the shared fridge – they turned up missing when he went back for them and he swears he could smell citrus on you when you stopped by Namjoon’s studio that afternoon.

Yoongi knows he’s being a little ridiculous. He’s let this thing with you transform from a passing peeve to an ongoing grudge match. He’s aware of his tendency to come off as aloof, a little cold with most people outside of his immediate circle – and he really tries to counteract this in most social situations. He doesn’t like being seen as unfriendly.

But whenever Yoongi sees your face, his mind goes back to that awful first run-in in the recording booth and it makes his stomach twist. He can almost feel it now: the pang of embarrassment, his innermost struggles laid vulnerable in front of a total stranger. Things had only gone down hill from there and he has no idea how to reverse it.

Yoongi furrows his brow, confused and irritated as the sound of your voice follows him down the corridor. When he’s not around, you turn into something else: a sweet little angel, apparently – with a big smile and a cute, infectious laugh…

Yoongi shakes his head. Now he’s grumpier than before. He really, really needs a nap.

You’re having a good morning.

First, you woke up to a string of excited texts from Jungkook. The maknae said he’s been working on a cover of a Western pop song and feels like he’s really making progress with his English pronunciation. He sent you about a thousand heart emojis and a video of him sitting cross-legged in his bed, sweetly singing a few lines of his cover.

You caught the early train to work but got off a few stops early to get in an extra walk. On your way you came across a new bakery handing out free rice cakes as part of a promotion – they were still warm and you had just enough time to savor them before arriving at BigHit.

To top things off, you caught Bang Sihyuk’s eye in the lobby as you were checking in. He wandered over just to tell you how impressed he’s been with your work, particularly the track you’ve been developing with TXT for the last week.

“You should take more risks,” he said, a small smile on his lips as he peered at you through his fine-rimmed glasses. “You can hear possibilities that others can’t. That’s the most valuable quality in a producer.”

It put a huge smile on your face before you even had your first cup of coffee.

That being said, getting caffeine into your veins is at the top of your priority list as step off the elevator on the fourth floor and make your way to the lounge of the production wing. To your surprise, the lounge is empty and the coffee pot is full – another miracle to add to your list for this morning. You pull your oversized thermos from your backpack and gleefully fill it three-quarters of the way full. There’s maybe a cup left in the pot – enough for the next person who comes along, you tell yourself.

Crossing over to the fridge, you open the freezer door and find half a tray of ice cubes left. Perfect. With a satisfying crack of the tray, you empty the ice into your thermos and make sure to fill the tray with water before sliding it back into the freezer to chill.

Perfectly iced coffee in the morning...just the thought gets you giddy enough to break into a little dance, wiggling your hips and shoulders as you screw the lid back on your thermos.

“What’s made you so happy this early?”

You look up at the sound of a deep, smiling voice and spot Namjoon loping easily into the room. He’s looking comfy in a black beanie, loose white t-shirt and a pair of olive-green overalls. You return his grin with a shrug.

“Nothing specific. Just one of those mornings where everything seems to be going right, you know?”

As soon as the words leave your lips – as if you’d summoned him just by voicing your joy – Yoongi’s lean figure slinks in behind Namjoon. Your smile falters a bit at the sight of him.

“I live for those days,” Namjoon beams. You think you spot him glancing at Yoongi for a split second – a flash of worry in his eye – before looking back at you. “Wish I had more of them.”

You bob your head in agreement. Yoongi looks exhausted – and grumpier than usual, you think. His eyes are dull and his hair is messy, held back off his face by a thick black headband. He’s dressed in black sweats and a baggy grey t-shirt that looks a little stretched out at the neck. You wonder if he slept in those clothes.

Yoongi shuffles behind Namjoon and heads straight for the coffee pot without so much as looking at you. Namjoon seems to notice, clearing his throat awkwardly to keep your attention.

“Are you going to the fundraiser?”

“Hm?” you hum, looking away from where Yoongi is filling a mug with the last dregs of the coffee. He looks pissed. “Fundraiser?”

“Yeah – the company’s hosting an event at the MoMA this weekend. There’s a special exhibit up for auction, all proceeds go to charity. You didn’t hear about it?”

Yoongi’s scowling as he ambles over to the fridge. You keep your eyes glued on Namjoon’s, afraid to watch as Yoongi reaches for the freezer door.

“Oh – right! I think I did get an email about that. I wasn’t sure if I was on the list, you know.”

Namjoon chuckles. “You definitely are. You should come! There’ll be people from other labels, probably some actors there – “

Yoongi's voice cuts in suddenly, hoarse and clipped.

"The fu- !!"

You jump at the sound of water hitting the floor, shoulders coming up nearly to your ears as you whirl around.

Naturally, your eyes land on Yoongi. He’s standing in front of the still-open freezer door, the now-empty ice tray held in his hand as he watches water drip from the hem of his t-shirt. He looks fairly soaked despite the huge puddle of water at his feet.

Yoongi’s eyes travel up to where you’re still clutching your thermos, holding it lovingly against your chest. Out of instinct (read: raw fear) you move to hide it behind your back – a sudden movement that unfortunately reveals the very damning sound of ice cubes clinking around inside the metal tube.

Yoongi’s eyes are hard and black when they finally meet yours.

“Ah,” you hear Namjoon start to anxiously interject. “Hyung – “

“You couldn’t leave a decent cup of coffee or ice?”

Yoongi’s voice is low as he addresses you, his face devoid of expression though you know he’s fuming.

“I did leave coffee,” you say quickly. You glance down at his wet clothes. “And I filled the tray after I emptied it.”

His eyes narrow incrementally.

“Obviously. How is a tray of water supposed to help anyone?”

You purse your lips. “I’m sorry. I figured someone would look first before pulling it out of the freezer.”

“You could have just left some ice for other people instead of hogging it all to yourself,” he drawls.

“There wasn’t much left anyway,” you snap. You can feel your temper rising. “Sorry I couldn’t pull fresh ice out of thin air. Do you want me to explain how ice is made?”

Namjoon clears his throat again. “Guys – “

Yoongi shuts the freezer door with a loud slap. “You’re so fucking childish.”

Fury boils in your stomach and your nostrils flare. “And you look like a fucking wet rat.”

“Such a cute trick you pulled. Were you just waiting, hoping I’d come in here next?”

“Right, because I’m psychic,” you sneer. “You dumped that water on yourself, pal. That had nothing to do with me.”

Namjoon steps closer to Yoongi. “Just hold on – “

“Mm. And it didn’t cross your mind to warn me about the tray, even though you were standing right here the whole time...”

You snort. “Like that would have helped – because you’re always sooo open to hearing what I have to say.”

“Maybe I’d listen if you ever had something of substance to contribute,” he spits.

“You’re such a snob. Can you even hear yourself?” Now your voice rises to meet your temper.

“Not when you’re around. Do you ever shut up?”

“HYUNG.”

The sound of Namjoon raising his voice brings your argument to an abrupt halt. You realize your heart is pounding in your chest. Your face is flooded with heat – judging by the flush in Yoongi’s cheeks, he’s feeling it too.

Your anger quickly gives way to embarrassment as you feel the sting of tears behind your eyes. You get teary when you’re really pissed off – something you really hate about yourself. Adding to the shame is the look on Namjoon’s face: he’s moved to stand between you and Yoongi, eyebrows knitted close together as he glances back and forth between the two of you. He looks stormier than you’ve ever seen him.

“OK, you two…just…calm down. Please,” he sighs, voice heavy with exasperation.

A lump forms in your throat as you look down at the thermos in your hand, suddenly cursing the way this whole morning turned out. You swallow thickly.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer out. “I’m being unprofessional…inappropriate. I forgot myself.”

There’s a long pause before Yoongi speaks up.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon-ah,” he mumbles solemnly.

Namjoon lets out a long exhale. “This is obviously not about me. Why don’t you apologize to each other?”

“He d-doesn’t need to,” you say quickly. It comes out as little more than a shaky whisper but still sounds too loud in the small room. “It was my fault.”

Namjoon says something to you – or starts to say something; you can’t really hear and you definitely can’t bear to look at either him or Yoongi as you grab your backpack from the floor. Moisture gathers in your eyes and you pray they don’t notice the way you hide your face as you flee into the hallway.

So much for a good morning.

Chapter Text

“Try that run again…let’s take it from the beginning and see what we get, hm?”

Yoongi lets off of the comm and rubs at the bridge of his nose, blinking in the light of his monitor as he cuts out the same few bars for the millionth time tonight. Jungkook sounds great, Yoongi thinks, but the adlibs still aren’t quite right. The maknae nods to him from inside the booth and shoots a thumbs up through the glass. The track starts over and Yoongi leans back in his chair, exhaling heavily as he tries to focus on Jungkook’s vocals and not the conversation going on behind him.

“…I’m not kidding!! You don’t believe me?”

Namjoon’s low voice cuts through Jin’s spluttering. “No way.”

“I swear – give me something to swear on – anything!”

Jimin starts laughing. Without turning around, Yoongi can tell he has his head thrown back against the couch, eyes pressed up into happy crescents.

“Hyung, you are unbelievable,” he gasps, slapping his hand against his knee. “You have to stop flirting with the stylist noonas.”

Jin chuckles to himself. “I can’t help that they know what they like…”

Namjoon groans. Yoongi agrees silently – Jin’s been talking about his hookups for the past 20 minutes – and hopes that someone changes the subject real soon.

“But anyway – let’s change the subject,” Jin says loudly.

Oh. Alright then. Yoongi feels his shoulders relax a bit.

“…What do you all think of Y/N?”

Never mind. This is not a topic he wants anything to do with. Yoongi feels a twinge of something unpleasant – anxiety? guilt? –  just thinking about his run in with you from yesterday morning. Namjoon already reamed him out over it – well…Namjoon’s version of reaming, which is really just a lot of huffing and frowning – but it’s still a sensitive subject. He’s not sure why Namjoon is so upset over this but it’s quickly ruining Yoongi’s week…

…That, and the image of your face as you hurried from the lounge: cheeks flushed, chin trembling, eyes shining with tears. Though he only caught a quick glimpse the image keeps popping up in his head. Yoongi shrugs it off again as the conversation continues.

“Y/N-ssi?” Jimin says, a question in his voice. “She’s nice. Easy to work with. I though you liked her, hyung?”

“Sure…but did you know she came from Starship?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says. “She wasn’t there long, from what I can tell, but she really knows her stuff.”

“Hm,” Jin muses in return. “Do you know why she left?”

“BigHit poached her,” Namjoon answers with a small shrug of his shoulders.

“Hm,” Jin says again. Pauses.

“…What?”

“Oh - nothing,” Jin says lightly.

“Did you hear something else?” Jimin cuts in again, curious.

“No! I know nothing…”

There’s a silence. Yoongi keeps his eyes on the monitor but finds himself hanging on to hear what Jin has to say. Not long before he’ll crack, Yoongi figures.

“…OK, wanna know what I heard?” Jin says a few moments later, his voice lowered.

There it is.

“I heard from Im Changkyun that she had a thing with one of the other members.”

“What??” Jimin hisses.

“Yeah. With Jooheon-ssi. The other rapper.”

Yoongi chews on his lip, half-turning in his chair to listen in. His stomach feels weird and clenched all of a sudden.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Namjoon asks.

“Well...I guess they were hooking up for a while. Who knows if things went bad or what, but – then she left the company and came here. I just wonder what the whole story is.”

Yoongi shifts in his chair. Jin is being stupid, he thinks to himself – looking for a story when there probably isn’t one to be found. He turns back to face the recording booth, shaking his head slightly.

Jin chuckles after a moment. “Wanna know what else I heard?”

He doesn’t wait for the other members to answer this time. He’s too excited and smug to wait.

“…I heard she has the sweetest pussy,” Jin purrs.

A prickle runs up Yoongi’s spine and he feels his neck flush. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

Jimin lets out a huff of tense laughter. “From who – Changkyun?”

“Yeah, who heard it straight from Jooheon. Said it tastes like fucking heaven.”

“Hey – “

The word bursts from him before he even registers his own reaction. Yoongi swings around in his chair, heart thudding in his chest as he stares down the older member.

“That’s enough. I can barely hear Jungkook-ah over the sound of you telling your bullshit stories, hyung.”

Namjoon mumbles in assent – says something very diplomatic, to be sure – and Jin does his windshield wiper laugh.

“Yah, Yoongi-yah – you’re no fun,” he objects playfully.

Despite the protest, Yoongi can tell the subject has been dropped. Namjoon meets his eye for a moment, a curious look on his face – but says nothing. Yoongi swivels his chair to face forward again, the flush fading from his neck as the conversation switches back to more neutral territory and the members start chatting about the fundraiser happening on Saturday.

You are annoying as hell, Yoongi thinks – full of yourself and always getting in his way. But that doesn’t mean he wants rumors about your personal life getting spread around BigHit. Jin shouldn’t have made those comments.

Yoongi feels a little scandalized; since you’re a huge pain in his ass, he’d never really thought about you…like that. Like in a sex way. Had never even thought of what you might be like outside of work. Or what you might be like in bed. Or what you might look like – sound like –  stripped and spread out for him like –

Yoongi shifts in his seat, trying like hell to focus on anything but the sudden tightness of his jeans. Getting turned on by one of Jin’s stupid stories…Yoongi scoffs at himself mentally. Disgusted as he feels, he’s extremely glad that he didn’t wear sweatpants today.

“Noona…are you coming?”

You look up from your seat at the piano, eyebrows still drawn together in concentration as you pause your note-taking to see who’s addressing you. You’re hunched over a legal pad resting on your thigh, pen clutched in one hand while the other is poised over the black and ivory keys. Your eyes land on a lanky figure in the doorway of the practice-room: Yeonjun.

“Hm…?”

He smiles at the little questioning noise you make, shifting his weight and leaning up against the doorframe. Even though it’s late and his day must be coming to an end, he’s dressed impeccably: simple t-shirt tucked in just below his waist; chunky boots and a pair of jeans that make his legs look a thousand miles long. His blush-colored hair is pushed back from his forehead and a pair of thin, round-frame glasses rest on the bridge of his nose. Yeonjun makes dressing like an idol look so effortless, you think – a thought you’ve had many times before.

“Everyone’s heading out for the night. You did say we were done with practice, right?”

You nod, giving him a tired smile. “Yeah. You guys were great today. Make sure you all drink lots of warm liquids.”

He blinks, keeping you fixed under his gaze despite your attempt to usher him off. “How much later will you be here?”

“Mm…not sure. I want to make sure I get these chords down before I wrap up for the night.”

Yeonjun tilts his head to the side, pushing his glasses up his nose with a long finger. He glances down the hallway before looking back to you and taking three measured steps into the practice-room.

“Do you want me to stay and keep you company?”

The hushed tone of his voice sends an involuntary shiver up your spine – a shiver that surprises you.

You’re used to Yeonjun’s flirting – he’s made it clear enough that he likes you, and while he has his cheekier moments overall he’s very respectful. If you’re really, really honest: you kind of enjoy the flirting. After all, Yeonjun is sweet. Tall. Talented. Cute in a way that borders on beautiful.

But Yeonjun asking if you want him to hang around after hours and keep you company in a secluded practice-room is a whole different ballgame. You adore him, but frankly you’re not sure you can trust yourself to avoid doing something you’d later regret. Which includes sending mixed signals. 

“Junnie,” you begin, taking a soft tone. “You should go home.”

He searches your face for a moment, large eyes panning back and forth as he waits for…something. You sigh quietly.

“You need to rest. And I need to work,” you say. You pin him with your best attempt at a stern look. “And I’m your noona, so you have to do what I say.”

That seems to break the spell. Yeonjun nods slowly, tucking his hands into his pockets as he backs toward the door. He gives you a rueful smile.

“OK,” he says quietly. “I’ll see you next week, Y/N-ah.”

He says your name sweetly, following it with a kind wink that makes you smile. Just as Yeonjun turns to step through the doorway, however, he bumps into a figure coming down the hall.

“Oh – I’m sorry,” Yeonjun says quickly, a shade of laughter in his voice as he makes way for the other person. “Sunbae-nim.”

Yoongi.

“Ah, it’s my fault. Wasn’t looking where I was going,” the older man answers. It’s weird to hear him sound so…polite. “Headed home?”

Yeonjun nods, bowing to his sunbae before casting you a brief glance and a final wave. You return it, keeping your smile plastered on your face even as he disappears from view and you’re left looking at Yoongi’s figure lingering in the doorway. He watches Yeonjun go – for longer than necessary, you think – and you take the opportunity to turn back to your legal pad.

You peck out a few notes on the keys, trying to recall the melody you were working off of earlier.

“You play piano.”

Yoongi’s voice surprises you. Unsure if he’s making a statement or asking a question, you turn to look over your shoulder at him.

He’s dressed in a big sweatshirt and a black beanie, face bare and looking pale under the fluorescent lighting. With the usual shag of his hair tucked away beneath a hat, you notice the line of his brow and the high set of his cheekbones. His face isn’t as round as you thought it was – it’s more heart-shaped. For a fleeting second you resent the fact that someone so obnoxious was blessed with such high-quality bone structure.

Yoongi clears his throat and drops his eyes to the tile floor.

“I…didn’t know that you played.”

You look at him for a long moment, unsure of how to respond.

“I don’t play very well,” you say, voice flat as you decide to keep your guard up.

Yoongi rubs at one of his sideburns and clears his throat again, louder this time. “Ah, well…still.”

Alright. This conversation is weird and not going anywhere. You resist the urge to roll your eyes just in case he catches you in the act. Just as you move to turn back to the piano, Yoongi takes a step forward.

“Namjoon-ah thinks highly of you,” he says.

You pause, taken off-guard. “Um…OK – “

“He’s been upset with me for a few days. Because of what happened in the lounge,” he continues. “He keeps telling me I was…too harsh.”

A tight feeling settles in your chest. You have zero desire to rehash the events of Tuesday morning. Yes, Yoongi was harsh – but so were you. And you don’t really care to hear an apology from him because you have no intention of offering one. More than anything, you’re afraid he saw you get upset before you stormed out of the lounge – you don’t think you can handle the humiliation if Yoongi brings it up. You decide to deflect the conversation.

“I hope I can work hard and continue to impress Namjoon-ssi. His perspective is important to me,” you say, pressing your lips into a very bland imitation of a smile.

“Mm…right…”

Yoongi shuffles his feet against the ground, hands in his pockets as he falls quiet. You glance at the clock on the wall. This is painful.

“If you need the piano, I can leave. I have work I can finish at home,” you offer stiffly, getting to your feet and reaching for your bag.

Yoongi looks up at you. “No, I don’t need it – I…”

You stuff your legal pad and water bottle into your backpack, throwing it over one shoulder as you scoot out from behind the piano bench. Yoongi’s still in the doorway and you pause before going any further. He clears his throat a third time.

“I came to tell you there’s fresh coffee in the lounge,” he says, breaking eye contact again. “But you’re leaving, so….”

Without even finishing his sentence, Yoongi crosses his arms and slips back into the hallway.

You’re left standing alone – stunned, and suddenly exhausted. Your back-to-back interactions with Yeonjun and Yoongi have given you some serious emotional whiplash. While coffee sounds tempting right now, you’d rather get yourself into bed at a semi-reasonable hour. You check the hall to make sure the coast is clear before locking up the practice-room and heading for the elevators.

On the ride down to the lobby, you seriously wonder whether or not Yoongi would try to poison you.

Chapter Text

BigHit's fundraiser is easily the fanciest event you’ve ever been to.

The word fundraiser makes you think of bake sales, carwashes, raffles…that kind of thing. This thing is a universe away from anything you’ve experienced before.

The modern art museum in Gwacheon is already packed when you arrive. You wait in a throng of people on the steps outside the front entrance for about thirty minutes before you’re let into the main hall. Glancing around at the other guests, you start to worry about the whole formal attire thing. You did your best to go formal in a dark green, satiny dress that falls just below your knee; it’s held up by thin straps and a high slit in the skirt flutters at your leg when you walk.

Now that you’re here, you wonder if you’re showing too much skin. You contemplate taking your hair out of the sleek ponytail you spent so long arranging at the crown of your head, just to cover up your shoulders. Looking around, you see that a lot of the older women here are dressed more modestly – and the younger ones look like models or idols. You’re not sure where you fit in.

It’s loud inside the museum: it sounds like there’s a DJ somewhere, and the hum of conversation is amplified in the massive space. The main hall is dotted with clumps of rich-looking, donor types – no one you recognize from BigHit or elsewhere. You follow the sound of the thudding bass toward a wide, glass panel-lined staircase at the far end of the hall, which dips down to the second floor.

The lighting is dimmer down here, the air thicker. Most of this level is taken up by a swarmed dancefloor and a few bars line the walls. You skirt the edge of the crowd as you make your way to the nearest one and get to work on hailing down a bartender.

A few minutes later, you’re devouring a Manhattan and wondering why you came alone. Honestly, you only came because Namjoon mentioned the event and at some point you suppose you should make some friends in the company. It’s not that you aren’t friendly with anyone – but you’re hoping tonight will give you a chance to loosen up and connect with the people you work with.

Still…you wish Songhee were here. She’d stick out like a sore thumb but she’d make everything more fun. She’d probably end up in the DJ booth and get hired for the next event before the night’s over. 

A loud voice distracts you from your imagination. It’s not exactly a voice, per se – more like a yell. A squawk heard clearly even over the music and the general din of the crowd. You turn to locate the source, which seems to be getting closer and you’re certain you’re about to lay eyes on the world’s loudest human.

The crowd in your immediate area parts and what you actually see is a small cluster of men. Gorgeous men – chiseled, poreless he-angels dressed in perfectly tailored suits who are currently attracting a lot of attention as they burst into a fit of shared laughter. It’s like a happy thunderclap, and you feel yourself smiling along as you watch their faces.

The members of BTS sidle up to the bar a few yards down from you. The idols are jostling one another like a bunch of schoolboys and at the center of their chaotic energy is a member you haven’t met yet. You recognize Hoseok by his smile: huge, heart-shaped, and totally infectious even at a distance. Taehyung says something to him and you watch as the dancer throws his head back and lets out a deafening, body-shaking laugh. Maybe world’s loudest human wasn’t so far from the truth…

“Y/N-ah!”

Namjoon spots you before you can decide whether to approach the guys or not. He cranes his head up over the crowd and beckons you over, face cracking into a dimpled grin when you wave and start to move in his direction. You slip past the throng of guests and meet another blast of noise when some of the other members see you.

“Y/N-ssi, you look like a dream,” Jimin says cutely, elbowing his way past Taehyung so he can greet you first. “They let you out of the studio tonight?”

You roll your eyes at him as the others laugh. Jungkook hangs an arm around Jimin’s shoulders; you wonder if the maknae is drunk as he seems to lean most of his weight on the smaller man.

“Noona, can we have a lesson right now?? Tell me how to flirt with you in English,” he begs, a toothy smile playing on his face.

“Kook!!” you exclaim, feeling heat rising in your cheeks. Jungkook just giggles.

Taehyung butts his way in next. He slides up next to you, a smug look on his face as he leans an elbow on your shoulder.

“Noona’s dress matches my vest. We planned it that way. She’s my date. We’re together.”

The two other maknaes burst into cries of protest and you wiggle out from under Taehyung’s elbow to make your way over to Namjoon. He’s closest to the bar, looking all kinds of stupid handsome in a dark blue suit and pressed shirt. He greets you and gestures to Hoseok, who’s leaned up beside him and sipping from a champagne flute.

“Have you met j-hope-ssi?”

You shake your head, feeling suddenly embarrassed but there’s nowhere to hide from the curious gaze that Hoseok turns on you. He glances between you and Namjoon, sets his flute on the bar and immediately reaches for your hand. You pray your fingers aren’t sweaty as he squeezes them gently – a move that makes your heart flutter – and leans in toward you.

“They’ve been hiding you from me,” he says sweetly. Being this close to Hoseok’s smile is doing wild things to your nerves. “I’m happy to finally meet you.”

“Ah – I…s-same?” is all you can stammer out.

You think he might laugh at your awkwardness, but to your surprise his grin shrinks into something soft and he releases your fingers to lay a touch at your elbow.

“You don’t have to be shy with me. I promise I don’t bite…at least, not like Yoongi-hyung does.”

You can tell he’s mostly teasing – but still your eyes slide over to where Yoongi stands off to the side with Jin. You blush.

“Oh…it’s not that,” you rush to explain. A sheepish smile tugs at your lips. “Look, this is very embarrassing and unprofessional to admit, but…I may or may not be j-hope biased.”

Hosoek’s eyes widen and he looks at you in near-comical surprise for a second, before his megawatt smile returns and he lets out a fresh peal of laughter. Namjoon just grins as Hoseok drapes an arm across your shoulders.

“I like you,” the dancer says, breathless after he finishes laughing. “You’re very cute. And very sweet. I can see why everyone is so enchanted with you.”

Well…almost everyone, you think.

You only have a few moments to bask in the glow of Hoseok’s compliments before the younger members infiltrate your small circle and the conversation shifts. You order a second drink and listen in as they trade stories and talk about their upcoming schedules. A few BigHit employees – producers, some managers – come and go, greeting the members warmly and stopping to chat before slipping back to the larger party. In moments it feels as if Bangtan possesses their own center of gravity, and the rest of the guests are just orbiting in their pull.

The soothing lull of an early buzz settles into your veins after a while. You’re catching up with a woman from the management department when you spot a familiar face over her shoulder.

“Minnie!!”

You can’t help the cry that bursts from your lips. Minhyuk’s round eyes find yours through the crowd, and you see him break into a wide smile. He waves a long arm at you. Excusing yourself as politely as you can, you side-step your coworker and dart past a few guests in order to reach your friend. He wraps you in a tight hug, making excited noises in your ear as you sway back and forth together.

“I didn’t know you’d be here!!”

“You look amazing! When did you get here??”

The two of you babble at each other for a minute before a warm hand presses against the small of your back. You pull away from Minhyuk a bit and look over your shoulder.

“Hey, stranger,” Jooheon grins.

He says it in English and it makes your stomach flip, despite the cliché line. Minhyuk lets you go so you can turn to wrap your arms around Jooheon’s neck instead. He lifts you up off your feet by an inch or two, arms strong around your waist before setting you back down so you can get a better look at him.

“Your hair,” you cry, reaching up to touch a dark lock laying against his forehead. “I missed the black.”

He looks good. Really good. Maybe it’s the two cocktails in your system, but suddenly you’re wondering about the odds of sneaking Jooheon into your apartment later. Or maybe he has a hotel room.

“How come you never wore this dress to the studio?” he whispers, leaned in close so his nose is almost in your hair.

He smells good, too. One faint whiff of his cologne is all it takes to bring back some vivid memories of all the late nights you used to spend together.

“It’s not exactly work appropriate,” you answer primly.

Jooheon laughs quietly and offers you a hand. “Come on.”

You slip your fingers into his, a question on your lips – but before you can say anything, he’s pulling you  into the swarm of people on the dancefloor. For a second you panic: this is a company party, and you should probably behave yourself…but then you remember you’re not an idol, pretty much no one here knows who you are and this is a rare chance you have to hang out with your friends in semi-public.

It’s easy to disappear into the crowd. Jooheon doesn’t seem concerned with the scene at all – he pulls you in close and moves with the music like he’s just any guy letting loose at a club. You keep your hands on his shoulders, steadying yourself against the press of bodies around you and you grin when you meet his eyes. It’s strange, being together like this – strange but nice. It’s almost like you get to enjoy Jooehon outside of his idol status.

He sticks to you like glue for a while until Minhyuk reappears and cuts in –  just as you were starting to feel a little too heated about the way Jooheon’s hands felt against your hips. It’s probably for the best, you think. Minhyuk’s presence gets your head out of the gutter – he’s a massive goof on the dancefloor and soon your stomach aches from laughing with him.

Eventually you’re desperate for a break and you split off from your friend to get another drink. You pass Kihyun on the way, stopping to give him a hug and listen as he updates you on the rest of the members who aren’t present tonight. While he’s talking, you spot Jooheon standing at the end of the nearest bar. He’s alone and looking at something on his phone – almost like he’s waiting for someone. Perfect.

You find a gap in the crowd and quickly hail down a bartender, throwing back a quick shot before heading off in Jooheon’s direction. He doesn’t see you coming so you slink up behind his shoulder and place a hand on his arm.

“Hey…”

Jooheon looks up and turns, smiling when he sees you.

“Hey,” he answers, slipping his phone into the pocket of his slacks. “I was looking for you.”

“Really?” you reply, a coy grin spreading over your face. 

He pulls you farther toward the end of the bar, so you’re standing a foot or two away from the rest of the crowd. “Yeah – I have something to tell you.”

You watch Jooheon’s face as he takes a sip of his beer…he really does look good, you think. You almost forgot the shape of his eyes – and those dimples. You feel warm – either from the shot of booze in your stomach or the thoughts running through your mind as you tilt your head to hear what he says next.

“I was thinking about our phone call the other week,” he starts. You nod encouragingly. “I really miss you. I think you were right about taking space, you know…”

You hum in assent, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Totally. Space makes everything better.”

Space has made you extremely horny, you think. You hope he doesn’t drag this out too much longer.

Jooheon smiles. “Right. Now I can see where you were coming from. I think I was being a little clingy, you know – so…”

You’re practically batting your eyes at him at this point.

“…I took your advice.”

You blink. What?

“My advice?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “Remember?”

You’re wracking your brain but nothing’s coming up. Jooheon leans closer and lowers his voice to almost a whisper.

“The secret K-pop idol girlfriend?”

Oh…no. No, no.

“I thought you were just pushing me away at first – but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made,” he continues. “I want someone I can be with, even if we have to keep it on the low. Plus – everyone in the industry has a secret relationship anyway, right?”

Jooheon…has a girlfriend? The words don’t compute but your brain is scrambling to make sense of this idea – and what it means.

You try to keep your face neutral – but it’s like your muscles won’t respond. You put on a smile but within moments, the corner of your lip is twitching uncontrollably from the sheer effort it takes to pull it off.

“Wow, Jooheon…that’s…”

He lets out a heavy breath. “Yeah. I’m so glad I got that off my chest!”

“Me too,” you reply. Your voice sounds hollow even as you try to put on a cheery tone.

Jooheon meets your eye, reaching over to touch your elbow gently. “You mean a lot to me, Y/N-ah…”

You nod. A sick feeling grows in your stomach.

“…and I hope you’ll be there for me, even if this – you know…changes things.”

You nod again, bringing a hand up to dab at your hairline. Your heart feels like it’s pounding away just behind the hollow of your neck. Jooheon watches you closely, as if he’s waiting for a reaction – but you’re determined not to give him one. Until…

“…so do you want to know who it is?”

“No!!”

The word tears from your lips without bidding, much louder than it should have. Heat bursts in your cheeks as Jooheon straightens up, a surprised look on his face. You shake your head quickly.

“S-sorry, I mean – no, Joo…then it wouldn’t be – y’know…a secret anymore.”

Jooheon studies your face as he listens to your stuttering explanation. You wish he would look away.

“Are you angry?”

A jag of irritation flares in your chest, adding to the mess of emotions already wreaking havoc on your body. You press a hand to your neck and feel your pulse thudding against your palm.

“No, I’m not angry – I just…I need to go. I’m sorry.”

You’ve got to get away from him. It feels horrible, turning on your heel and leaving Jooheon like this – but you can’t help it.

You weave your way through the mass of partygoers, making a beeline for the nearest bathroom. If you can just get some cold water on your face, you’ll be fine, you think…but then you change your mind and turn instead toward the bar where you began the night. You need a fucking drink.

You’re embarrassed. You’re not actually sure why you feel so shitty, but you just feel…wrong.

You find Namjoon, Hoseok and Jungkook still standing by the same spot at the bar. You manage to fix a stiff smile on your face and they welcome you back into their circle again, making room so you can order a drink. Namjoon starts up a conversation with you about some new production software he wants to try out – and that’s when you hear it.

Jooheon’s voice. Echoing around the entire, massive hall. The DJ is playing Monsta X.

There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach before you even fully recognize the song. It’s one you worked on briefly – a sweet, somewhat sultry R&B track that belongs on a break-up playlist. It’s catchy. Full of longing. It’s the last song you need to hear right now.

You want to bolt. Namjoon is still speaking next to you, but he sounds far away. You clench your jaw, determined not to cry though you can feel the telltale signs already: warm face, trembling lip…you drop your eyes to the floor and pray no one notices.

Maybe you’ll disappear if you stand still enough, you think.

It seems like a viable option – until a delicate, ring-studded hand appears in your field of vision.

_____

Yoongi is not a fan of these events.

He wouldn’t go as far as saying he hates them – but he doesn’t like being in big crowds. Doesn’t like making small talk. He prefers to drink in his apartment, or even in the studio. He doesn’t like the idea of letting someone else pour his whiskey.

Right now, he doesn’t like the sight before him: you, standing with Jooheon at the far end of the bar.

Yoongi was surprised to see that you’d even come out tonight, though he’s not sure why. You seem like a fairly social creature.

He was actually a little relieved to see you here – though he’d rather chew glass than admit it out loud, he still feels like garbage about what he said to you in the lounge. Over a stupid cup of iced coffee. Yoongi had tried to apologize or at least talk to you about it – show you he’s not a complete asshole – but that didn’t really pan out either.

He was also surprised to see that you’d come alone – though of course, you weren’t alone for long.

Standing off to the side with Jin, Yoongi watched the way his members acted around you. Namjoon is obviously forming a legitimate bond with you; Hobi was just meeting you for the first time but was clearly smitten already. Granted, Hobi kind of has a tendency to be smitten by anyone and anything…but still: Yoongi recognized the look in the dancer’s eyes when you turned pink and laughed at something he’d said. You were charming him. You were charming. It was easy to see.

It didn’t make any sense – you were such an utter brat at the office. Yoongi was the only one who could see it, he thought. But somehow reminding himself of this only made him feel worse…

Then Monsta X showed up. Yoongi refused to think back on anything Jin had said the other day about your alleged thing with Jooheon – he swallowed back half of his drink to make sure those thoughts stayed at bay. Yoongi bristled when he saw the way you hugged the members; he quickly ordered another whiskey when he saw you and Jooheon disappear into the crowded dancefloor.

The drinks helped. Yoongi relaxed – honestly forgot you were even around – and fell into a long conversation with Jin about their upcoming press circuit in Japan. The two oldest members wandered to the next bar over to chat with Sejin, who’d just arrived after sorting out a scheduling crisis with some of the other managers. That’s when he saw you talking to Jooheon.

From where he’s standing, Yoongi’s got a clear view of your face. It looks like the two of you are having a private conversation: your shoulders are angled toward him, upper body leaned slightly forward as you smile at the black-haired man. It almost looks like you’re…flirting.

But that can’t be right – because now the smile is slowly shrinking from your face. Yoongi straightens up, shifting on his feet to maintain his vantage point. Jin is laughing loudly at something Sejin said and it’s extremely distracting, but Yoongi doesn’t miss the way you’re currently putting on a fake-pleasant expression. He recognizes it because he’s been on the receiving end of it – but this time it looks different. Sadder.

What is going on here? Yoongi sips at his drink, keeping his own expression carefully placid as he watches Jooheon reach for your elbow. Even from this distance he can see the way you pull back from the touch – it’s a subtle movement, but Yoongi catches it and feels a strange knot form in his chest at the sight.

You’re nodding at whatever Jooheon is saying, but you look miserable. Upset? Angry? Yoongi can’t tell. A cluster of women cross in front of him, blocking his view – he resists the urge to crane his neck for a look and by the time the swarm passes, you’re striding away from Jooheon. Now he can read your expression clearly: you’re not angry – you’re hurt.

He thinks of the look on your face the other day – the one he caught just before you slipped out of the lounge and into the hallway. He’d heard the tremble in your voice and saw the far-off, glassy look in your eyes even though you’d tried to hide it. The sight had extinguished all his frustration in an instant and left an ache in his stomach.

Now, the feeling in Yoongi’s chest morphs into something tight and very unpleasant. He takes a step away from Jin and Sejin, eyes tracking your path across the hall as you cut your way through the crowd and turn sharply to head for the bar where some of the other members are still gathered.

Hm. The tension in Yoongi’s shoulders eases slightly as he watches Namjoon sidle up to chat with you. Namjoon puts everyone at ease. He’s good like that – good at most of the things Yoongi struggles with...

But even Namjoon can’t protect you from the song that’s suddenly blasting through the hall. Yoongi recognizes the song, if only vaguely – he wasn’t a fan of Monsta X’s music before and he certainly isn’t now, as Jooheon’s verse starts up and he sees the way your face changes again.

It’s like watching a car crash, the way you seem to shrink in size and spirit before Yoongi’s eyes. Or maybe he’s the car crash – because he can feel his body moving but can’t seem to stop it from happening.

Yoongi hands his tumbler to Jin and takes off on feet that don’t feel like his own, drawn in your direction like you’re sending out some kind of irresistible distress signal. Shit – Yoongi knows this is a bad idea – but he sees the way you turn your face toward the ground and it’s like he can’t cross the room fast enough to make the squeezing feeling in his chest ease up.

It’s not like he has a plan by the time he gets to you, sidestepping Jungkook so he’s only an arm’s length away from where you’re stood by the bar. Yoongi just knows that something – or someone – needs to distract you from whatever’s going on inside your head right now. So he does the first thing he can think of.

He sticks out his hand.

_____

Your eyes travel slowly up from the floor, taking in the strange vision bit by bit.

Yoongi stands in front of you, one hand stretched in your direction with the palm facing up. He’s not even looking at you – he’s kind of looking at a spot just off to the left of your shoulder.

For a brief but bizarre moment, you think he’s asking you for money. Or gum, maybe?? Seriously – what could this guy want from you right now?

It’s not until Yoongi meets your eye that you start to realize what’s going on. He looks at you differently than he ever has before: still guarded – but there’s something else in the dark of his irises. Something gentle. His fingers twitch briefly, drawing your attention back down to his waiting hand.

Namjoon has fallen silent beside you. Hobi makes an interesting strangled noise in his throat as he swallows back a mouthful of champagne; Jungkook is staring at Yoongi’s outstretched hand with his mouth hanging open.

You slip your fingers into Yoongi’s palm and he wraps your hand in his. You don’t know why you do it – or why he’s doing this – but it seems crazy enough to be right.

It feels a bit like you’re in a trance as you let Yoongi lead you away from the bar. He could be dragging you off to kill you and dump your body, you think faintly – but the look in his eyes tells you differently and for whatever reason you choose to put your faith in it.

He leads you back onto the dancefloor, steadily weaving his way between bodies until he reaches a small gap in the throng. Yoongi turns to you then; he doesn’t make eye contact but he pulls you in close and your hand automatically comes up to rest on his shoulder – only for a split second, though, before you pull it back to hover above the material of his jacket. Like you’d touched something hot.

“Y-Yoongi – “

He must hear you – you’re only a handful of inches apart and the music is loud but not enough to drown out the hesitance in your voice. Yoongi doesn’t answer, though. Still holding your one hand, he rests his other palm against your waist – high up, closer to your ribs than your hip – and slowly starts moving with the music.

Alright. So…this is happening.

The song is medium tempo and it’s easy to sway along to. It feels private here: tucked away in a pocket, hidden from view by the mass of bodies around you. The circumstance at hand is bizarre for sure – slow dancing with Min Yoongi is truly not something you’d ever have predicted, especially these days – but the initial shock starts to wear off and soon you find yourself relaxing enough to really take in the situation.

While Yoongi stares straight ahead over your shoulder, you let your eyes wander over his face. His platinum hair hangs tousled over his forehead and a few silver hoops dangle from his ears. There’s a tiny freckle on his nose – a detail that strikes you as both shockingly cute and deeply human. The top button on his dress shirt is undone, revealing the delicate hollow at the base of his throat. It’s weird being this close, you think – close enough that you can smell whiskey on him. Whiskey and…citrus? You wonder if he’s been drinking old-fashioneds.

Yoongi’s hand tightens on your waist. You look up, following his gaze back over your shoulder and through a space that’s suddenly opened up in the shifting crowd – and see Jooheon. He’s standing near the staircase with Kihyun, eyes steadily scanning the room as he rubs at his jaw.

A wave of fresh hurt washes through you. You wonder if you should talk to him before he leaves – or if you should just go hide in the bathroom…but then a tug on your hand draws your attention back to Yoongi.

He brings your hand up to rest on his shoulder before drawing you in closer by your waist. Even in heels you’re shorter than Yoongi, but still this position brings you dangerously close to being face-to-face with him.

It’s then that the song changes; you think Yoongi might let you go now – but he doesn’t. Surprised, you tentatively try pulling away from him. His hold on your waist stays firm.

“Yoongi-ssi – “

He cuts you off with a single word: “Y/N-ah.”

Your name. You’ve never heard him say your name, informally or otherwise. Especially not the way he’s saying it now: hushed but firm, halfway between a warning and a plea. The sound sends a prickle up your spine.

Feeling disarmed and oddly subdued, you stay where you are. It suddenly feels natural to give in to the solid weight of Yoongi’s body and you edge forward to rest your forearms along his shoulders. You feel Yoongi’s hands slide further around to rest just above the small of your back, the touch of his palms light but warm against your spine. This new song is slower like the last one, and soon you lose yourself to the easy sway of the music.

As you move gently with Yoongi your mind wanders back to all the bitter moments you’d shared in the studio, the lounge – memories that usually set your teeth on edge. But in this moment, with your bodies close and his breath warm against your hair, it’s almost impossible to feel angry with him. You wonder what’s going through Yoongi’s head, but as usual his face is blank and he shows no sign of letting on.

As the song ends, his hands slide from your waist and he tilts his head toward yours to speak in your ear.

“Do you want to take a break, go somewhere quieter?”

You blink at him, surprised to discover for yourself that that’s exactly what you want right now. He sees you nod and takes your hand again to lead you carefully out of the crowd and toward a wide, brightly lit corridor at the far end of the hall. As you move further away from the DJ and into an adjacent wing of the museum, the music fades to a distant throb and you find that your ears are ringing. Yoongi releases your hand when you reach a long white gallery lined with massive canvasses.

You follow him to a low granite bench facing one of the paintings and take a seat as he hails down a waiter who’s circulating among the few guests in the room. Yoongi slides on to the bench to sit a couple feet away from you; the waiter comes by to offer you a tray of champagne flutes.

You pass one over to Yoongi and take one for yourself. The waiter straightens up and makes to leave, but you throw up a hand.

“Hold on – “

The two men watch as you tilt your head back and steadily chug the contents of your glass. When you’re finished, you swipe at the corner of your mouth with a thumb before swapping your empty flute for two full ones.

“Thanks,” you smile at the waiter. “Keep ‘em coming.”

The waiter glances at Yoongi, who looks dumbfounded for a moment before he shrugs a shoulder and throws back his own glass of champagne. He nods at the waiter as he takes another full flute and politely orders some kind of scotch.

“We should definitely tip him,” you say quietly, watching the waiter retreat from the gallery.

Yoongi hums. “Definitely. Do you have cash?”

“Yep. But I’m pretty sure you’ve got the bigger paycheck here, so...”

You shift to meet Yoongi’s gaze for a moment, half-expecting him to come back with something scolding or rude. Instead he blinks back at you, face impassive as usual until his features crinkle and he lets out a wheezy laugh.

You’ve literally never seen Yoongi smile – smirk, yes…but this is something different. His lower eyelids come up to nearly obscure his dark eyes, cheeks rounded as his lips pull back to reveal a set of pearly, small teeth. He looks happy – sweet, even; it’s such a departure from his typically stony appearance that you can’t help but let out a nervous, tentative giggle at the sight.

He buries his laugh in a long sip of champagne and you follow suit. Setting your glass to the side on the bench, you reach down to fiddle with the straps on your heels before kicking them off. Yoongi watches as you take down your ponytail, running your fingers against your scalp to loosen up your locks as you shake them out around your shoulders. He clears his throat, glancing around at the art on the walls.

“Do you think these are part of the auction?” Yoongi asks.

You think for a second. “Maybe. Are you bidding?”

“No,” he answers. After a few moments’ silence, he speaks again: “Namjoon-ah might bid on something. But I think buying art is…strange.”

“…Why?”

Yoongi rubs at one of his sideburns and lifts a shoulder. “Art is so…personal. Seems wrong to put a price on it – send it away to hang in a stranger’s home or some office building.”

You nod, mulling his words over in your head for a bit. The waiter comes back and quietly hands Yoongi a tumbler of scotch.

“I get where you’re coming from,” you say after a while. “If I had the money, though, I’d buy a few pieces for myself.”

“Would you?”

“Mm. Definitely,” you muse, gazing up at the vast canvas before you. You nod in its direction. “I’d kill for something like this…dark, abstract. So big it feels like it could swallow you whole if you lean too close, or look too hard...”

Yoongi follows the line of your eye and takes a careful sip of his drink. The oil painting across from your bench is huge – at least six-foot squared – and composed of broad, swirling strokes of dark color. Shades of ash, stone and charcoal grey fade into a swath of slate-blue at the bottom of the canvas. Even from a reasonable distance you can tell the strokes of oil paint are layered on thick, giving the piece a distinctly textured appearance that makes you want to reach out and touch it. There’s no frame surrounding the canvas – a detail that adds to its minimalist, stark quality.

“I’d give anything for art like this,” you say quietly, after a long break in the conversation. “Art that makes you feel seen, even though you’re just another stranger standing in front of it…that’s special.”

You turn your head to the side and see that Yoongi’s no longer looking at the canvas. His eyes meet yours and you don’t look away.

“…But you probably know that better than anyone,” you finish. “You make art like that.”

Yoongi’s lips part slightly, eyelids fluttering as he blinks a few times. You can’t tell if he’s surprised or flattered – or maybe he’s uncomfortable. He looks off down the gallery, angling his face away from you and swallowing visibly before speaking.

“Ah – that means a lot, coming from…another producer.”

He finishes the sentiment softly, eyes flicking back to yours again with a tentative look. Wary – like he’s waiting to see how you’ll react. His response takes you off-guard and it’s a minute before you figure out what words you want to say next.

“You called me Y/N-ah earlier.”

It comes out quietly – posed not quite as a question but not sure enough to be a statement, either. Yoongi clears his throat and looks down at his feet.

“Did I offend you by speaking informally?” he asks.

“No – not at all,” you clarify. “I just didn’t know we had enough…history to do that.”

Yoongi’s shoulders raise in a tiny shrug; he looks up from the floor and meets your gaze.

“Don’t we?”

There’s another silence as you weigh those two words against the ugliness that’s marked your relationship with Yoongi from the moment you met him – all the tension and angst that’s built up over the last month or so.

There were plenty of moments at the office when you wanted to strangle him – moments alone in your apartment when you forced yourself to cry just to relieve the stress of enduring so much confusion and conflict at work. You assumed you’d never forgive him for those times…but sitting here beside him in the gallery, you can’t overlook all the moments you’d wished for a break in the bitterness. You’d be stupid to turn it down now, you think.

Yoongi doesn’t break eye contact even as you stay silent, studying his face while you think. Finally you take a long inhale and brush a piece of hair back over your shoulder.

“I suppose so,” you answer simply, mimicking his shrug.

You give Yoongi a small smile and he seems to relax a little bit. He slides out of his suit jacket and you watch as he takes another sip of his scotch, holding the tumbler out toward you afterward.

“Do you want a taste?”

You nod, taking the glass from him and bringing it to your lips. You let a small amount of the amber liquid wash over your tongue, setting your tastebuds alight with notes of smoke and dark berries. You make a comment to Yoongi about the flavor and he launches into a lengthy explanation of where the scotch came from and how it’s made. In all honesty, you’re a bourbon girl and you think scotch drinkers are a little pretentious…but Yoongi looks animated, eyes bright as he talks and it’s easy to sit and listen to him.

You tell him about a distillery you visited in Scotland several years ago and confess that you know nothing about Japanese whiskey – this only seems to spur him on and before you know it, at least an hour has slipped by and the two of you have crushed three more tumblers of scotch between you. Yoongi’s tie is loose around his neck and his hair is messy from running a hand through it so many times; you’re sitting cross-legged on the bench, thumbing the stem of your empty champagne flute as your conversation slowly winds down.

Yoongi reaches for his jacket and draws out his phone to check the time and you assume he’s thinking about leaving – but then he slips it back into its pocket and turns to look at you.

“Want to get back out there?”

You pause, a tipsy giggle escaping your lips as you try to read his expression. “Who, me?”

Yoongi furrows his brow. “Yeah, you.”

“Like…dance?”

“Yes – dance. You. You dance. Me. Whatever,” he sighs, getting to his feet and shrugging into his jacket as you start laughing. “Or we can go find the others at the bar – I just can’t sit here anymore.”

You work on getting your heels back on while Yoongi straightens his tie. As soon as you’re back on your feet, you realize how drunk you are – not hammered by any means, but definitely feeling looser than you were when you came into the gallery. You wonder if Yoongi feels it too.

He’s already headed off toward the main hall when you’ve finally smoothed out your dress and brushed a few tangles from your hair with your fingers. You dash after him, heels clacking on the marble floor as you hurry to catch up.

“OK, um – I just…need to find a bathroom first,” you mutter, swiveling around to scan the room. Thankfully there’s one just past the gallery exit.

Yoongi keeps strolling further on down the corridor. With one hand on the bathroom door, you watch him go – hands tucked in the pockets of his trousers, shoulders relaxed as he makes his way closer to the roaring party. If he’s drunk, his gait doesn’t show it. Your eyes linger on the smooth movement of his legs, which look particularly long draped in dark, well-tailored fabric. He’s got nice legs, you think – skinny, but nice – and either those dress pants are playing tricks on you or he has a very cute butt…

Jesus – maybe you are hammered. You slip into the bathroom and relieve your bladder, taking an extra minute to stare yourself down in the mirror after washing your hands. You wonder how you’ll find any of the members at this point, who’ve probably long since dispersed throughout the party or maybe left for the night. The thought of facing the crowd alone – especially when Jooheon might still be around – sets a pang of anxiety in your stomach.

Determined to have a good night, however, you steel yourself and head for the exit. If your lipstick can last through the evening, so can you, you think.

A wave of sound crashes over you as you step back into the corridor. To your surprise, you find Yoongi waiting by the threshold of the main hall. He scuffs one shoe against the floor until he sees you approaching and lifts his head to meet your eyes.

“You waited,” you say dumbly, feeling confused and mildly touched.

Yoongi blinks slowly, looking at you shrewdly from behind those long lashes. “Mm. Were you hoping to ditch me?”

“I – no, I was just…”

The words get lost somewhere between your brain and your mouth. Yoongi smirks and turns to face the party; you follow close at his side as the two of you step back into the throng of guests – which seems to have only grown since you last left the dancefloor. A man bumps against you with his shoulder as you go, causing you to stumble a bit on your heels. Asshole.

Just as you toss a death-glare over your shoulder at the guy, you feel a warm touch on your wrist. You look around to find Yoongi tracking the same man with his dark eyes; he pulls gently on your hand to tuck it along the inside of his elbow. You automatically wrap your fingers around the crook of his arm and he presses the hand close to his side, keeping you near as he leads you carefully into the crowd.

You’re not sure what the rest of the night holds. At this point, you don’t really care – as long as Yoongi keeps surprising you like this, you think it’ll be worth the ride.

Chapter Text

You woke up the next morning with a mild hangover and a lot of questions.

The hangover went away pretty quickly, but the questions followed you around all week: flitting through your mind in the middle of meetings; distracting you during studio time; nagging you while you stood in the shower waiting for your nourishing hair mask to do its thing.

Did I really hang out with Yoongi at the fundraiser? How the hell did that happen? Was he just drunk out of his mind? What am I supposed to do when I run into him again – do I say something?? Do I play it cool? Does this mean he’s done being a total dick?? What the fuck is his deal???

Desperate for some perspective, you called Songhee on Thursday and relayed the story to her over cold beers on your living room floor.

“So – Min-SUGA PD is the asshole at BigHit,” she’d said, a note of intrigue in her voice as she nodded slowly.

“No – I mean – yes, he’s the one I’ve been having a hard time with,” you corrected her. “But like – is he an asshole? What am I supposed to make of all this?”

“I don’t know,” Songhee sighed. “That dude is hard to read. Maybe he’s really trying to turn over a new leaf with you.”

You took a long sip of your beer. “Should I try and do the same?”

She shrugged. “I don’t see why not. He’s been pretty awful to you, but…from a pragmatic standpoint, it can only benefit you to get on his good side. You joined BigHit to learn from the best, right?”

“Yeah. A year ago I would have killed to work with him…”

You trailed off, remembering how things had been at Starship and how you’d gushed to Songhee over the phone when BigHit first called. You’d never expected to have these kinds of challenges at the new company.

“Besides,” Songhee said, breaking the silence after a while. “Maybe he’s got a secret crush on you and you’ll end up hate-fucking him – “

You lurched forward to land a swat on her shoulder. “Songhee!!”

“Sorry! He’s hot, OK??” she laughed, spilling a slosh of beer on the carpet. “Indulge me in this fantasy.”

“It’s your fantasy.”

“And you’re living it!! You guys should just bang it out, relieve some of the tension – “

“Oh, my God – please stop there,” you begged, clapping both hands over your face. “I’m just trying to get him to not hate me. Let’s leave the banging out of it.”

“Fine, fine,” Songhee gave in. She finished off her beer, pausing for a moment before asking: “So…what are you gonna do about Jooheon?”

You exhaled heavily, eyes wandering over to your phone. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him and I don’t really want to…not for a while, at least.”

Songhee nodded and the two of you left it at that. You had enough on your mind already without factoring in the mess with Jooheon. You’d talk to him eventually, you figured – but right now you had to make sure you could focus at work.

You heard through the BigHit grapevine that Bangtan is following an especially crazy schedule at the moment, filming a bunch of content ahead of their upcoming tour extension in addition to their usual grueling practice sessions. You didn’t expect to see Yoongi for a while which somehow still added to the suspense each day you went into the production wing. You did your best to bury yourself in your work with TXT, taking on extra assignments here and there wherever you could within the production team.

By the following Monday, you’re feeling more relaxed about the whole situation. You head into the office with a huge chunk of studio time booked and a positive outlook on the day, hoping to start the final touches on the TXT track you’ve taken the lead on now that most of the vocals have been recorded. The production wing is busy – you say hello to Wonderkid and a few other staff on your way past the lounge, stopping off briefly to stash your lunch in the fridge before hurrying to claim your reserved studio space.

As soon as you get settled in – all the right programs and files pulled up on the monitor; headphones on and coffee by your side – your phone lights up with a text.

joon [10:18]: hey!

The sight of his name on your screen puts an instant smile on your face. You reach for your phone to see what he follows up with.

joon [10:18]: dance practice got cancelled this morning – want some company?

Your fingers fly over the screen as you type out a reply.

Y/N [10:19]: of course!!

Y/N [10:19]: i’m in 5C. need input on this track before i send it to bang, helpppp

joon [10:20]: on my waaaay! :)

It’s another fifteen minutes or so before you hear a soft knock at your door. You pull your headphones off to loop them around your neck, turning in your chair to greet Namjoon with a smile.

…Only it’s not Namjoon.

The door swings inward, leaving about a foot of space where Yoongi’s face appears as he pokes his head into the studio. There’s a cautious look in his eye as he pauses at the threshold and meets your gaze.

“Hey...”

You realize your mouth is hanging open. You snap it shut.

“Hey!” you reply – loudly. Way too loudly.

You clear your throat and spin to face him fully, which causes your headphones to strangle you for a brief moment before you yank them off and set them on the desk. Yoongi just blinks at you.

“Ah – what’s up?” you continue, unsure of what else to say. “Is Namjoon-ah with you?”

“He got caught up in something with Pdogg, but he’ll be down soon,” Yoongi explains. He watches your face carefully. “He said you were finishing a track today…?”

You nod. “Yeah! I mean – I’m hoping to…”

Yoongi’s mouth quirks into the slightest of smiles, but he stays where he is. You stare at each other for an awkward second.

“Oh – um…do you want to come in and hear it?”

He nods, slipping his frame past the door. “Thanks. I brought you…ah…”

Yoongi lifts his hands and you realize he’s holding two iced coffees. Your eyes widen at the sight.

“You brought coffee? For me?”

“Yeah,” he replies, shrugging awkwardly. “But now I see you already have some, so – um – “

His gaze drifts to the styrofoam cup by your keyboard. You quickly snatch it up.

“Oh, this? Nah, it’s empty – “

Without thinking, you chuck the cup in the trash behind you – where it lands with a loud, very-obviously-full-sounding thunk. You plaster on a big smile and turn back to Yoongi, who looks a little stunned. You reach for one of the coffees in his hand.

“Thank you so much,” you say sweetly, hoping to distract him from your insane behavior. “Iced Americano?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah. Hope that’s OK.”

“It’s perfect. Here – let me show you what I’ve got so far…”

Yoongi edges closer to stand near the desk while you unplug your headphones and pull up the edited track. You take a deep breath in through your nose, trying to regain some type of focus as he watches you cue everything up.

“It’s not perfect, obviously – the arrangement is all done and the vocals are laid in, I just haven’t mixed everything yet,” you explain. “I’ll have to go back in with some adlibs first, probably, but…well – here – “

You press play, cursing your awkwardness as the track starts. You feel confident about the work you’ve done so far – you’re just a little unnerved by Yoongi’s sudden appearance. All those lingering questions about the fundraiser come rushing back and it’s all you can do to stare straight ahead at the monitor, praying Yoongi can’t sense the unease rolling off of you. You sip quietly at the iced coffee until you’re brave enough to sneak a glimpse at his face.

He's got his arms crossed over his chest, head bobbing slightly with the beat as he listens. He’s in loose workout clothes – dressed for the cancelled dance practice, you assume – and his hair is pushed back under a baseball cap that casts a shadow over part of his face. You watch as his lashes flutter against his cheeks when he blinks rapidly a few times.

“What are you thinking?” you ask – unable to help yourself.

Yoongi’s eyes narrow, his brows coming together as he continues to watch the monitor. “I’m thinking I made the guide for this song…but it sounds very different now.”

Shit. You forgot about that detail.

“Ah – right, you totally did…Band PD-nim told me to take it in another direction…”

Yoongi draws a deep breath in through his nose, muttering more to himself than you when he says: “No wonder Namjoon-ah wouldn’t tell me what track he was helping with…”

“The guide was great,” you say hurriedly. “I just thought it should sound a little less poppy.”

“PD-nim asked for it to sound poppy.”

“I’m aware – Wonderkid was at the meeting and that’s literally the same thing he said – “

“What meeting?” he says sharply. “Where was I?”

“There was a meeting about TXT’s debut and the mini-album,” you say, starting to feel a little defensive. “I don’t know where you were – maybe you didn’t need to be there?”

He frowns. “Seems like I should have been if there was a discussion about my track – “

“Your track?”

“I mean – you know what I mean…the guide. I didn’t know PD-nim was looking for something so different.”

“He wasn’t,” you say simply. “Namjoon helped me develop this version on my own time; I pitched it at the meeting and Bang liked it enough to give me the reins.”

Something like a pout flashes across Yoongi’s face. “Hm.”

You wait, taking a sip of your coffee as he stares at the screen again. After a few minutes you sigh and swivel to face him head on.

“I want to know what you’re feeling. You can be honest with me.”

Yoongi glances away from the monitor to meet your gaze, eyes a little wide. “…About the song?”

“…Yes?” You pause, raising one eyebrow in question. “Unless there are other feelings you want to share?”

Yoongi shakes his head a little bit, clearing his throat. “Ah – no, sorry, I was just…anyway – the song is fine.”

You wait for him to say more, eyes scanning his face for some kind of reveal. He just bobs his head again, the corners of his lips pulling into an odd, bracket-shaped smile. You cock your head at him in question.

“It’s fine?”

He huffs out a quiet sigh but you continue.

“Surely you have more to say than that – “

“I’m annoyed that no one told me about the changes – but you’re right, it’s not my track,” he says, the words spilling out in a rush. He takes a deep breath in. “I think…I think this actually sounds better than the original.”

He kind of mumbles the last part but you catch it and your eyes nearly pop out of your skull. Yoongi pushes on.

“The minor chord progression sounds great with the vocals. You really captured a different side of their voices. And the arrangement is clever – adding in the rap just before the second chorus…that surprised me.”

You bite your lip, trying not to let on that you’re practically glowing inside as you listen to his feedback. He catches your eye and you think you spot a flush spread over his cheeks.

“But I would work on the synth,” he continues quickly, dropping his voice to a more serious tone. “It should come through more as the focus of your sound.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” you grin, pleased to have had the same idea. “I was hoping to finish mixing everything today.”

“Well the synth part should be easy – here – “

Yoongi reaches for the mouse but you quickly stop him, lurching forward in your chair and throwing out your hands in caution.

“Whoa – um, I’d rather you didn’t do that, actually…”

Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”

You blink at him. “Yeah – I just…worked on this track, like, forever and I want to finish it myself.”

“I just want to show you one thing.”

“Can you talk me through it?”

“It’s easier if I show you – “

“I don’t want to mess up the settings, though – this software is kinda finicky – “

“It’s not even your software,” he snaps, sounding exasperated.

“I know that, but this track is my baby,” you press. “Only my hands touch this thing until I send it off to PD-nim.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue. “God – fine – “

Before you can stop him, he grabs your hand and presses it over the mouse so it’s pinned under his. You start to tug out of his hold but he’s already moving the pointer on the screen, long fingers pressing down on yours to click around and make rapid-fire adjustments to the recording.

“It’s easier with a full mixing board obviously, but if you’d just relax and listen to me…” Yoongi clicks a few more times, leaning forward to turn up the volume before releasing your hand. “…I’ll show you how to finish this thing a lot quicker, even using these manual controls.”

He presses play and the track blares through the speakers, sounding much fuller this time – more balanced, almost matching the way you’d imagined it to sound in your head. You listen for a minute before looking up at Yoongi.

“How did you EQ it so fast?”

He shrugs. “I’ve worked in this studio a thousand times on a hundred tracks. You learn shortcuts.”

You expect him to gloat – but he just stands there, hands shoved in his pockets with a faint smile on his face as he listens to the edited track. He looks like a kid who just beat a level of his favorite video game, you think – satisfied, a little proud. You lay your hand on the mouse again, pausing the track.

“If I promise to listen, will you show me one more time?”

Yoongi smirks and nods, resting one arm along the back of your chair as he covers your hand with his again. You’re prepared for his touch this time but it still makes you feel strange – warm but also a little nervous, a rush of anticipation trickling through your veins. Yoongi opens his mouth to explain the steps again just as the door to the studio swings open.

“Sorry, Pdogg took forever to – oh.”

Namjoon takes one long stride into the small room and comes to a halt when his eyes land on the two of you. Yoongi straightens up quickly and stuffs his hands back in the pockets of his sweats; you watch as his expression morphs back into his usual stony mask. You glance at Namjoon, who has a curious smile on his lips.

“Um…my bad,” he says awkwardly. “I didn’t think Yoongi-yah would be in here…”

“You told me to come down here,” Yoongi scowls.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d do it,” Namjoon chuckles – sounding almost incredulous. “What are you guys doing?”

Yoongi stays quiet and shuffles his feet against the floor. You look between the two men for a moment, unsure of what’s passing between them.

“Yoongi-yah was showing me a trick with the audio software,” you say evenly. “This setup still feels a little clunky for me, compared to what I normally use at home.”

Namjoon nods slowly. “Oh. Cool.”

Another stretch of silence passes. Namjoon rubs at the back of his neck while you and Yoongi both reach for your coffees. Namjoon’s eyes drift back and forth between the matching cups in your hands.

“So are you two, like…friends now?”

You answer quickly – just as Yoongi blurts out his own response.

“Can we not do this – ?“

“Friend is a strong word…”

“We’re just working on something – ”

“ – he’s just here to boss me around like always.”

Yoongi turns his head sharply to look at you. “Really?? I’m trying to help you.”

“Yes. In a very bossy way.”

He crosses his arms and Namjoon lets out a quiet sigh. “Ah – well…that answers that question.”

Yoongi moves toward the door, edging past Namjoon as he reaches for the handle and mumbling as he goes. “I should go. I’ll see you later for that taping, Namjoon-ah.“

Your heart sinks a little; you open your mouth to object but there’s no time to say anything before Yoongi slips out into the hallway. The door closes gently behind him and you slump back in your chair, feeling more frustrated than you have all week.

“He really can’t stand me,” you mutter.

Namjoon moves to take a seat in a folding chair by the door, a sympathetic expression on his face. He watches as you start to pick at your cuticles and smiles.

“Can you stand him?

You shrug. “Not really. Not most of the time. But if he’d give me a chance…”

Namjoon nods again. “Yoongi-yah is better with second chances than he is with the first. He can be…a little hard to connect with – “

“That’s an interesting way of putting it.”

“ – but he has a massive heart. I swear,” he finishes firmly. “He just doesn’t show it easily.”

You raise your eyebrows skeptically and Namjoon laughs. He crosses one leg over the other and slips his hands into the pockets of his sweater.

“I’m serious. At the fundraiser last week – didn’t you see some of it then? It looked like you were having a good time together…”

You puff up your cheeks and let out a slow exhale. “I don’t know what that was about. I’ve been trying not to overthink it but it’s not working.”

“I don’t know exactly what he was up to, either…but I know Yoongi-yah,” Namjoon says evenly. “I’ve rarely seen him get as riled up over anyone as he does over you – “

“Because he despises me.”

“ – and obviously he’s trying to put all that aside. Seems like it’s time both of you do that.”

You look down at your hands, gently pushing off the ground with your feet to swivel left and right in your chair. You suddenly feel small and exposed under Namjoon’s gaze.

“I want to, Joon,” you say softly. “I don’t like…I can’t stand how hard it’s been.”

Tears prick at the back of your eyes – inexplicably, it seems; you’ve been over this multiple times with Songhee and you were sure you were over the initial sting of admitting it out loud. Still, something about Namjoon’s quiet presence coaxes you to say more.

“I worked my ass off to get here. You have to know how much it means to me to work with this company – to have a chance to work with you, and Yoongi…I thought…thought it would all be easier than this but I fucked it up with him somehow and I’m afraid I’ll never really make it here if I can’t – “

“Whoa,” Namjoon interjects, his voice gentle as he gets up from his seat. “Hey – be easy.”

Your cheeks burn with shame and your throat feels tight; you want to hide your face but Namjoon tugs you up from your chair and wraps you in a hug. He’s never embraced you before but somehow he feels familiar – the weight of his body like a heavy, sun-warmed blanket. He pulls back after a few moments and holds your face with both of his broad hands.

“Listen to me: you will be fine here. More than fine. You’ve already impressed so many people – it doesn’t matter if you don’t get along with one person.”

You nod. Namjoon’s brown eyes flit back and forth, searching your face as you listen.

“But I really do think things will change with Yoongi-yah – if you want them to. If you’re open to it,” he continues. One corner of his mouth lifts in a half-smile. “I mean, he brought you coffee and tried to show you some of his secret PD-nim tricks…I get he’s sending mixed signals but these are definitely signs that he wants to be your best friend.”

You laugh wetly, sniffling a bit as he drops his hands and fixes you with a dimpled grin. “If you say so…thanks, Namjoon-ah.”

He shrugs easily. “Anytime. Peptalks are my specialty. Now – can you please let me hear this track before I get hauled out of here by my manager?”

Chapter Text

It’s a Tuesday night and it’s late, but you’re not tired.

On the contrary, you’re feeling pumped up: your apartment is clean, you just got paid and you have plans with friends this weekend. A new album is blasting through the speakers in your kitchen as you bop across the tile floor, a bowl of noodles in one hand and chopsticks in the other. You’re in a bigass t-shirt and a pair of tiny silk shorts, face double-cleansed and you should probably be in bed right now but having a snack and a dance session just feels right.

In the short silence that follows the end of the current track, you nearly jump out of your own flesh at the sound of knocking at your front door. Except knocking isn’t the right word – it’s more like pounding. You set your bowl on the counter and pause the music before padding over to check who’s at the peephole.

“Joo??” you exclaim half a second later, swinging your door open.

“Y/N…”

Jooheon stands in the hallway – or, more accurately, leans in the hallway. He’s propped up against your doorframe, wearing a denim jacket and black jeans that look rumpled and a bit damp. His face is covered by a black mask which he quickly pulls off and stuffs in his back pocket. Some of his hair is plastered to his forehead.

“Jooheon, what the – is it raining?” you ask. Not really the most pressing question at the moment, you realize. “What are you doing here?”

Taking that as his cue to enter, Jooheon steps into your apartment and closes the door behind him.

“I ran here,” he says. He’s panting a bit.

“OK – um – “

Just as you take a step back to let him into your living room, Jooheon claps a hand on either of your arms. He moves closer to you, but you keep backing away – that is, until the small of your back hits the table in your entryway.

“What are you – “

“Y/N,” he says again, still sounding out of breath. “I broke up with her.”

You pause. Her? Her who??

“The secret girlfriend. We’re done.”

Your mind races to catch up. The secret K-pop idol girlfriend. Right. Flashes of your last conversation with Jooheon come back to you now and an uncomfortable feeling roils in your stomach. You blink at him.

“Joo, are you drunk?”

He looks drunk – face a little slack, eyes glassy as he palms your upper arms.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I was mad at you – I was mad at you, Y/N, for saying I should date someone else. I wanted you. I want you.”

Shit. Everything that’s going on is starting to add up and you do not like where it’s headed. You place a hand on his chest, trying to keep a soft tone to reason with him.

“Jooheon – slow down. I don’t think – “

“I’m sorry,” he says – almost whines it. His eyebrows knit together as he tries to convey his regret. “I’ve been such an asshole.”

You let out a breath. He seems to be turning a corner, you think…

Until Jooheon leans forward and presses his lips to your mouth. You don’t even have time to shut your eyes before his face is crushed against yours, his hands coming down to grip your waist. It’s a horrible moment: usually kissing Jooheon is a good thing – but this is not good. What comes after is even worse.

You push at his chest to shove him off of you. “What the fuck!!”

Jooheon stumbles back a bit. “Y/N, baby – “

You flee into the kitchen, heart pounding. What are you supposed to say now? What the fuck is happening??

You whirl around at the sound of his footsteps behind you.

“Baby?!” you repeat.

“Just listen – please,” Jooheon continues, eyes dark and desperate as he takes another stride toward you. “I miss you and I’m crazy about you – always have been – “

“S-stop, Joo,” you stammer, leaning against the counter by the sink. “You’re not making any sense. You’re drunk.”

“So?”

“So you shouldn’t even be here!! Do the members know where you are?”

“No, but – “

“What about your manager – does he know you’re running around the city at this time of night??”

“Y/N,” he says again, louder and firmer this time. “I had to see you. Please don’t be mad. I’m trying to make things right.”

“Make things right??” you say, voice shaking. “You just show up here and – and – what? Your plan was to come over drunk and force yourself on me?”

“Force myself – ? I thought you wanted me!!”

“I did – once. Before. This is different, Joo – “

“It’s not though! If you’d just try again – “

“JOOHEON!” Now you’re basically yelling. “We’re friends. We used to mess around. It was good. We moved on. Get a grip. You can’t barge in like this and pretend nothing has changed.”

He wilts a little at that. His eyes are soft. “But things haven’t changed. Not for me…”

Your stomach lurches. This is too much. Fight or flight kicks in and you blow past Jooheon, heading for the closet where you pull out a long, lapelled wool coat. You shrug it on over your pajamas and cover your hair with a ballcap.

Jooheon watches, his eyes following your movements. “What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving,” you say simply. You step into a pair of Vans and reach for your bag on the couch.

Jooheon follows you with worried eyes. “Where are you going?”

“Out. Away from you.” You know your words are hurtful, but you can’t stop them from coming out. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

“What am I supposed to do??” he says, voice rising.

“Stay here, sober up. Go home. I don’t care, Jooheon.”

You leave before he can say anything else, letting the front door slam behind you. You pray he doesn’t follow.

Mercifully, Jooheon lets you go and forty minutes later you’re greeted by the comforting silence of the BigHit building. It’s almost three in the morning and the building is abandoned – just the way you like it.

You take the stairs up to the fourth floor and wave your keycard over the pad outside the door to the production wing. With sound-absorbing materials all around you, it’s even quieter here. You finally feel safe.

As soon as that thought registers, your body starts to relax and you feel tears sting at your eyes. Stupid Jooheon. Your heart aches at the mess that you’ve suddenly gotten yourself into. Jooheon is your friend – you care about him, a lot – but suddenly the thought of seeing him again makes you feel nauseated. You realize you have a long, restless night ahead of you – especially if you’re going to spend it on one of the couches in the lounge.

Letting out a shaky exhale, you fumble with your lanyard in a struggle to find the key to your assigned studio. Just as you slip the key into the lock, a soft click comes from further down the hallway. You look up.

Of course Yoongi is here. You’ve only seen him a couple of times since he came to the studio with coffee; he’s been polite but you’ve shared only passing exchanges. You still don’t know what to expect with him – or if Namjoon shared any of what you’d said about him that morning.

Yoongi’s dark eyes settle on yours and he blinks a few times, eyelashes poking out from under his silver-blond fringe. Music trickles out from the open door to his studio. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie, grey sweats and a pair of slides, a mug held in one hand as he pauses in the hall.

Yoongi takes in your appearance, gaze roving over your mismatched clothes and messy hair. You pray he can’t see the moisture in your eyes or the hear the sniffling noise you make as you try to breathe through your nose.

“Hey,” he says, low voice carrying a hint of caution. “…late night?”

You clear your throat. “Something like that.”

Yoongi pauses, looking unsure of himself. He rubs at the back of his neck with one hand.

“Ah…I was just working on a track from my mixtape.”

You nod, hand still resting on the door handle to your studio space. This is awkward.

“…you should come listen.”

Wait – what? Yoongi is inviting you into his private studio to hear one of his solo tracks. You’re sure you’re hallucinating. You hesitate, unsure of how to respond just in case he’s actually messing with you.

Yoongi breaks eye contact with you, shuffling his feet on the carpet. A tiny smirk lifts one corner of his mouth – you barely catch it as he turns his head back toward the studio door, but it’s definitely there.

“It’s kicking my ass. Come on. Watch me torture myself.”

OK, so…not hallucinating. Not messing with you. You crack half a smile at his comment and move down the hall toward him. Yoongi steps back and lets you enter his studio first, waiting until you’re well inside to follow and close the door behind the two of you.

As your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, you take in your surroundings: a small, sparsely decorated room; a leather couch sits against the wall to your left opposite Yoongi’s chair and desktop. You can’t help but ogle the amount of equipment – nice equipment – that he has squirreled away in his studio. Behind the monstrous spread of monitors and speakers is a large pane of glass looking into a darkened recording booth; you notice a door to the right of Yoongi’s desk and assume it leads to the smaller room.

Yoongi steps around you, sits in his black swivel chair and starts clicking away at files on his main monitor. You feel awkward – still shocked that he let you into his space at all, and unsure of how much you should make yourself at home. He doesn’t invite you to sit so you hang by the door, fingers gripping the strap of your backpack as you stare at the back of Yoongi’s head. His roots are growing in, you think; as he tilts his head to the side to stretch his neck, you notice the darker, cropped undercut that disappears under his longer blond layers.

Yoongi leans over to grab for something under his desk. A gentle clinking sound reaches your ears; a moment later, he spins around in his chair to look at you – two tumblers clutched in one hand and a bottle of Japanese whiskey in the other. He blinks at you.

“Why are you still standing?”

“Um,” is all you say in reply, feeling too dumb to offer anything else as you slide your backpack from your shoulder and skirt around a low coffee table to take a seat on the couch.

Yoongi scoots forward on the wheels of his chair and sets the bottle and glasses on the table. He uncorks the whiskey, pouring two fingers of the amber liquid into one of the tumblers. He brings the mouth of the bottle to hover over the other, pausing to meet your eye for a moment. You nod and he quietly gives you the same pour.

Yoongi raises his tumbler and lifts his chin to you before taking a long sip. You repeat the gesture, burying your smile in the rim of the glass as you hold it to your lips and take a careful taste of whiskey. It’s smooth and fiery, leaving a strong taste of smoke in your mouth as you swallow and feel the liquid’s warmth flood through your chest and belly. You take a longer sip and relish in the feeling it brings.

Yoongi regards you carefully as you lower your glass.

“Are you going to leave your coat on all night?”

You set your tumbler on the table and shrug off your coat, pressing your lips together to fight off another smile as your cheeks start to warm up.

“Sorry,” you offer, wrapping your arms around your stomach. “This is…a little weird.”

“Yeah, well, you’re making it weird,” Yoongi says. He sounds stern but you can tell he’s not serious. “Please just relax. You’re freaking me out.”

A puff of laughter escapes from your lips. You can’t help it – the whiskey is hitting your veins already, making you feel lighter and the whole situation is just too bizarre to not laugh. Yoongi’s lips quirk into a tiny pout of a smile and he swivels back around to face his desk.

“So,” you say, after composing yourself and giving in to the push of liquid courage. “The great, highly esteemed Min Yoongi is going to let me listen to one of his super-secret solo tracks?”

“Mm,” he grunts in response. You assume it’s his version of a yes.

“Are you sure I’m worthy of such an honor?” you press.

“Nope,” he replies flatly. “But I’m feeling generous. Do you want to hear it or not?”

“Shouldn't I beg first, or something?”

“What you should do is pipe down for about three minutes while I play this. Can you do that?”

You take your glass from the table and cross the small room to lean a hip against Yoongi’s desk. He eyes you for a second – you’re sure he’s going to tell you to back up – but says nothing. He fiddles with the volume on one of the speakers and then settles back into his chair as a song starts to play.

It’s pretty bare bones: some lo-fi synth leading in, overlaid with scratching and a playful mix of horns and piano. The tempo is moderate, the beat sprinkled with the bright sound of a hi-hat. You listen to Yoongi’s first verse: it’s a clean recording, lyrics switching between braggy and self-critical as he raps about his roots and his current angst as an artist. The second verse is more conversational; you recognize the conflict he illustrates as he rhymes about the struggles of creating music. The chorus is simple – just a few rapped lines repeated twice throughout the track.

You easily get drawn into the beat – nodding your head and letting your foot follow the rhythm as it taps against the floor in double-time. As the song plays through, you find yourself waiting for a peak – an arch, or a change in energy, at least – but it doesn’t come. The chorus sounds flat, the lyrics too simple and the lines too brief to carry much feeling.

When the song finishes, Yoongi lets out a heavy exhale and tucks both hands at the nape of his neck. You can practically see the wheels turning in his head.

“Can I hear some of it again?” you ask.

Yoongi nods, and without thinking too much about his reaction you lean in toward the monitor and take over the keyboard. Yoongi scoots his chair over and watches as you play back snatches of the song, including a few runs of the chorus.

“It’s missing something,” he says, his low voice barely registering over the music. “The chorus. It’s shit.”

“It’s not shit,” you answer, eyes glued to the monitor. “It’s just missing something, like you said. Are you going to sing?”

“What, right now?” Yoongi asks, sounding confused as hell.

“No, not now! Why would I ask you to sing right now??” Your tone borders on scolding as you cast a glance at him with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t know! You asked!!”

“I meant on the track,” you explain, laughter making your voice start to quake. “Could you sing on the chorus?”

You lean back from the monitor and watch Yoongi’s face for a moment. His pale skin is almost glowing in the light of the screen; he blinks a few times, mouth twitching to the side briefly as he thinks. Cute.

“Mm,” he hums after a bit. Bobs his head twice. “I’d have to think on a melody.”

“The horns are great,” you remark as you make your way back to the couch. Flopping back on to the soft leather, you hang one leg over the other and cradle your cup of whiskey. “Makes me think…like…”

Closing your eyes, you whistle out a few measures of a melody that’s teasing inside your head. It’s not until you catch Yoongi sending you a dubious look over his shoulder that you start to feel embarrassed and break out in a giggle.

“Don’t look at me like that. You come up with something better!”

“It’s not the melody, it’s your whistling. Please never do that again,” he drawls.

Yoongi pulls out a small keyboard on a tray that slides from beneath his desk. He starts parsing out a melody, graceful fingers splaying out across the black and white keys as he plays around with the idea. You’re content to watch him, only chiming in at first to offer encouragement or praise.

The two of you spend time like this for a while: Yoongi playing something on the keyboard, you giving feedback or la la la-ing a suggestion here and there (you don’t dare try whistling anything again). You want to ask about the song’s lyrics, but you don’t; something about this night with Yoongi feels different – special – and you don’t want to ruin it by pushing too far.

He pours more whiskey for the both of you and a whole hour slips by. You tell him about your work with TXT and your plan to lobby for more piano on a certain track. Yoongi talks about learning piano as a kid and his stories make you feel strangely fond. You tell him about how you got into production and making music. Somehow you end up describing your disdain for some of the songs you put out at Starship and it leaves both of you in stitches.

“So is that the real reason you left?” Yoongi laughs, a wide smile on his face. “Because you were so pissed about putting your name to those tracks?”

“Oh, please,” you retort, rolling your eyes. “You’d die before you stooped so low. Don’t act like I’m the only snob in the room.”

Yoongi nods, raising his glass to you and it makes you dissolve back into a fit of giggles. He’s such an obnoxious purist, you think – but maybe the two of you aren’t so different after all.

Quiet settles over the room as your laughter dies down. The whiskey burns warm in your stomach and you turn the (now-empty) tumbler over in your hands, watching how the crystal catches the light. Everything feels fuzzy, peaceful, right – enough that you suddenly feel ready to ask something that’s been on your mind all night.

“Yoongi-yah,” you say softly.

“Mm.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

Somehow you have the courage to look up at him. He’s sitting across from you in his chair, elbows rested on his knees where he leans over his own empty glass. Yoongi’s face is impassive, as usual – but not unfriendly. Not closed. He holds your gaze.

“I know you can’t stand me,” you continue, a sheepish smile taking shape on your lips. “I mean, I’m pretty sure you actually hated me for a while. But now…and at the fundraiser…”

You trail off, unsure of what to say or why you’re saying it. Your courage dies in your throat and the quiet in the room turns uncomfortable as Yoongi continues to sit and look back at you. You drop your eyes down to the glass in your hands, cheeks feeling warmer than ever.

“I didn’t hate you.”

His voice is soft – softer than you’ve ever heard it. Maybe it’s the whiskey. You glance back up at Yoongi and see that now he’s the one looking down at his hands.

“I just didn’t trust you,” he continues. “You were this outsider who showed up one day and impressed everyone.”

That’s so not how you remember it.

“You’re good. And I could tell that you knew you were good, and it drove me nuts,” he says, voice getting lower. He pauses, and then a tiny smirk appears on his face. “I thought you walked around here like you owned the place. Like you were this perfect fucking princess.”

Your face flushes at that and an involuntary giggle bubbles up from your throat. Yoongi looks up and flashes you a gummy, slightly embarrassed-looking grin. He only holds your gaze for a moment before he looks down again.

“As for me being nice to you…hm,” he pauses again.

You’re eager to fill in the silence.

“I’m glad you don’t hate me,” you start. “But you don’t have to go out of your way to be kind, either. I just want to be on good terms with you.”

Yoongi leans forward slightly, setting his glass down on the table in front of the couch. You watch his hands as he starts to toy with the rings on his fingers.

“At the fundraiser, and earlier tonight – you looked sad,” he says simply, deep voice just above a whisper. Time stretches on as he thinks about his next words. “You look beautiful when you’re sad, but…believe it or not, I prefer to see you happy.”

His words do something strange to your heart. A soft ache settles in your belly and you don’t dare break the silence that fills the space between you.

“So…I’m not being that nice, if you think about it,” Yoongi says after a few long moments. He shrugs, chuckles weakly. “It actually sounds pretty selfish, now that I say it out loud.”

“Yoongi…”

His name comes out before you know what you’re going to say. What do you even say back to something like that? No one has ever been this…blunt with you. It’s intense and lovely and incredibly disarming.

At the sound of his name, Yoongi looks up at you with a hint of warning in his eyes. That wary look he usually has is back. It’s then that you realize it: he’s said too much. He’s a pretty blunt person, but he senses now that he’s gone too far and shared too much of himself.

You should heed his warning. You should back off. But then you remember how much fun it is to get under his skin.

“…did you just call me beautiful?” you say sweetly, a smile playing at your lips.

His eyes still burning into yours, you see his mouth twitch to the side. Like he’s trying not to crack.

“…And perfect?”

Yoongi lets out a quiet huff of laughter despite himself, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

“Don’t push it, princess.”

He turns around to face his desk and you’re free to indulge in a huge grin. Hearing him call you princess makes you feel giddier than is probably reasonable. Plus, adding to the thrill is the fact that Yoongi doesn’t hate you – he’s still a pain in your ass, but you relish at the thought of merely getting along with him.

Despite your excitement, it’s not long before you start to yawn. Yoongi glances at the analog clock on the wall just as you do – almost 4:30. You have to be up and ready to meet with Yeonjun and the others in just a few short hours.

“You heading out?” Yoongi asks, watching as you gather your wool coat into your arms.

“Mm…no,” you say, suddenly feeling awkward at having to explain your situation. You push yourself up off the couch, looking away as you take the handle of your backpack into one hand. “I’m gonna crash in the lounge.”

“The lounge??”

Why does he have to be so curious all the time?

“Don’t pretend like you’ve never slept here before,” you say, a little defensively. “It’s late. I have to be in the office at 9, anyway…”

“I’m not judging you for sleeping at the office,” he clarifies. “Just…don’t sleep in the lounge. Sleep in here.”

You pause – again, unsure if he’s serious or not. Yoongi sees your skeptical expression and lets out an annoyed exhale.

“What, do you want Supreme Boi and all the TXT hoobaes catching you passed out by the coffeemaker?”

“No, I just – “

“Sleep on the couch. It’s better in here. I crash here all the time.”

Yoongi stands up from his chair and gathers his glass and the (nearly empty) whiskey bottle from the table. You chew at your lip, feeling indecisive and still clutching your coat.

“Are you going home?” you ask.

“No. It’s late,” he echoes your earlier words, meeting your eyes. “And I have to be back here early as well. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Yoongi – “

He holds up a hand to you, eyes stern as he clicks his tongue.

“Don’t make it weird again. Just relax…I’ll pass right out and I promise I don’t snore.”

Hm. You’ll be the judge of that.

Too tired to protest any further, you slip off your Vans and settle back on to the couch. Yoongi takes one of the throw pillows and drops it on the floor, turning off his monitor and the lights as you draw your coat up over yourself and huddle down to go to sleep. Wrapped in darkness, you listen to the soft sounds of Yoongi settling down to his makeshift bed on the floor.

It’s a weird moment – undeniably, it’s been a weird night. But you’re pretty drunk, and it’s late, and above all you’re worn out from the emotional rollercoaster that you’ve ridden for the past few hours. You’re usually a bit of an insomniac but tonight you drift off within minutes.

It takes you a whole minute to remember where you are.

You squeeze your eyes shut against the pull of wakefulness, unsure of why you’re even awake at all – but then it registers: you’re freezing. The air conditioning must have kicked on at some point: you can hear it blowing in through a vent that, naturally, is located directly above you. You shiver and draw your coat closer, coughing a bit to clear your throat.

“Yoongi,” you speak into the darkness – half squeak, half croak.

“Mm.”

“…S’cold in here.”

There’s a silence, and you think he’s ignoring you – or maybe he’s not even really awake. But then a rustling noise reaches your ears. Seconds later, you feel a weight pressing into the couch cushion by your feet. You lift your head up a few inches from your pillow.

“What’re you – ?“

“Shh. Move over.”

“Move?? Move where?“

Yoongi doesn’t answer, but you feel his arm slip between your shoulder blades and the back of the couch. Following his cue, you scoot forward – carefully balancing on your left side as Yoongi gently settles his body behind you. You feel yourself tense up.

“Do you want my sweatshirt?” he asks, voice low and husky with sleep.

“Um…no – “

“Good,” he grunts, drawing his knees up so they’re tucked just behind yours. Of course he manages to be snarky even when he’s half awake.

Under normal circumstances, you would never let this fly…but Yoongi is warm. Heat radiates off his body and you will yourself to relax as he drapes a heavy arm across your coat-covered waist. He shifts a bit and you feel his chest press flush against your back.

“Is my hair in your face?” you ask, out of courtesy and just generally not knowing what the hell you’re supposed to say in a situation like this.

“Mm.”

Yoongi exhales deeply through his nose and you can feel his breath against the back of your neck. Any other night, the sensation would give you the heebies – but now you find it strangely comforting. You listen as his breathing slows, eventually syncing your own lungs with the steady rise and fall of his chest behind you. Sleep takes you again before you even think to worry about what might happen when morning comes.

Mercifully, the morning is uneventful.

You wake up around 8:00 and carefully disentangle yourself from Yoongi, who’s still dead asleep as you gather up your things from the floor. As you shoulder your backpack, you sneak a glance at him: he looks impossibly peaceful – lips shell-pink and slightly parted; dark eyelashes standing out against the pale skin of his cheeks. You notice his feet are bare and without thinking, you grab the other throw pillow from the floor and use it to carefully cover them up.

Stepping into the bright hallway, you realize you’re a little hungover. Today promises to be long and unforgiving. But as you make your way to the nearest bathroom to freshen up, you find yourself feeling mostly relaxed. You wonder when you’ll run into Yoongi again – and if he’ll call you princess.

Chapter Text

After that night in Yoongi’s studio, you start to see more and more of him.

He makes a fairly regular habit of popping by when he has a break in his schedule, tracking you down in studios and practice-rooms just to see what you’re working on. When you spot him elsewhere in the BigHit building, he always makes a point to stop and talk. Sometimes it’s just to tease you – like the time he pulled you aside after a meeting with Bang PD only to gleefully let you know your shirt was on inside out – but other times he shares about his day and generally treats you like a coworker. A friend, even.

He opens himself up enough to exchange phone numbers with you and sometimes sends you interesting samples and tracks. Once you mentioned in passing that you wanted to learn more about the early roots of K-rap and K-R&B; the next morning, you woke up to a link to a massive and carefully curated playlist from Yoongi.

You find yourself intrigued by the gestures Yoongi makes, each one relatively small but significant and occasionally intimate – like the day he let you borrow his zip-up hoodie when it started pouring rain outside and you’d come to work that morning in just jeans and a thin white t-shirt.

Maybe best of all, Yoongi seems keen on making your new nickname stick. It becomes a fixture in your workday: hearing him drawl “princess” as he appears behind you in the lobby or one of the lounges, a smirk on his lips as he greets you. It gets a rise out of you every time and reminds you of the words you’d exchanged in his studio just a week or so ago.

Yoongi doesn’t bring up that night directly but you can tell it caused a shift in the way you move around one another. He even looks different to you now – soft features more pronounced in your eyes; his overall presentation brighter and less like a grumpy old man in the morning.

You don’t have a lot of time to dwell on these developments, though – now that you’ve sent off your track with TXT for the final stages of approval, your plate is quickly stacked high with new projects for the production team. Each workday is a blur of meetings, confabs, and endless hours spent tooling around in the studio by yourself or with any combination of producers; most days you drag yourself home around eight in the evening, take a shower and crawl into bed with your laptop to tool around some more.

You’re busy – but happy. You’ve finally reached the point where you recognize just about everyone you pass in the hallways at work. The TXT members are feeling more and more confident about their debut every day. You’re seeing less of BTS’ vocal line but Jungkook still makes time to text you every few days. You’re no longer terrified of Pdogg.

All things considered, you’re feeling pretty good when Namjoon texts you on a Thursday just as you’re wrapping up at work and heading home. Your phone buzzes as you trek up the hill from the office on foot, weaving through a late rush of working commuters.

joon [7:35]: hey – what are you up to later?

Y/N [7:36]: nothing? just heading for the metro now. was gonna open a bottle of wine at home and listen to those clips you sent me yesterday.

Namjoon sent you a few recordings – different versions of verses he’s trying out for a song he’s recording on his own – and asked for your feedback. Being the massive nerd that you are, you’d set them aside as a special treat for later tonight.

joon [7:38]: do you want to come to the dorms? i wanna show you something else

You pause at the top of the stairs leading down to the subway, re-reading Namjoon’s text a few times before replying.

Y/N [7:38]: are you sure? isn’t there some kind of rule against that?

joon [7:40]: probably, but rules are socially constructed. and you’re a colleague.

joon [7:42]: bring the bottle of wine! i can supply some snacks. and more wine, if jin will share from his stash

A grin creeps over your face, hidden from the crush of commuters by your facemask. You type out a response and head down the stairs to finish your trip home.

Y/N [7:43]: k. you had me at more wine. text me the address and i’ll find my way over – maybe around 11?

It’s closer to midnight by the time you find the massive, cream-colored modern marvel that is the building which houses BigHit’s new dorms.

Feeling like an absolute peasant with no right to be in this neighborhood, you’re somewhat shocked when the doorman nods at your BigHit ID and lets you into the ground floor lobby. You figure he must have expected your arrival. He points you in the direction of the elevator where a different attendant swipes a keycard over a magnetic pad before sending you up to one of the higher floors.

You step off the lift and find yourself in a long hallway. It’s dead quiet up here – the walls are a crisp white, the floor lined with wide, pale panels of wood that reflect the lights set back into the joint where the ceiling meets the wall. There are only three doors in the hallway but right away you realize none of them are numbered.

Just as you process this detail, a quiet creak comes from the far end of the hall. Namjoon’s head pokes out from the door furthest from the elevators; he spots you and his features crinkle into a warm smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey!!”

You return his greeting with enthusiasm, hurrying toward the open door. Namjoon steps out into the hall, opening his arms to wrap you in a brief hug before ushering you inside the dorm.

“Find us OK?” he asks, eyes curious as he helps you out of your coat.

“Yeah – I can’t believe they let me in, though,” you remark. “This place is insane, Joon!”

“It kind of is. We’re still getting used to it.”

Namjoon drapes your coat along the back of a high-backed wooden chair as he leads you toward the living room – well…one of the living rooms, at least. There’s a long table at your left as you move through the foyer clutching your bottle of wine; a comfy-looking area with big, black leather couches is ahead of you as you pass a wide doorway which opens into the kitchen. You peer down a hallway to your right and spot a number of doors – bedrooms and bathrooms, you suppose – and past them is what looks like another common space. Everything is sleek, modern but still cozy; you notice a wine cooler built into one of the walls of the kitchen just before your eyes wander to the array of photos and artwork in the living room.

“Wow…these must be from your tours,” you say quietly, your steps slowing as you examine a neat line of framed pictures.

Namjoon takes a seat on the couch and looks on as you lean in close to one particular photo. “Mm. That was Sao Paulo. One of Hoseok’s favorites. Have you seen us live?”

“No, not yet.” You give Namjoon a sheepish grin as you move to take a seat near him. “Is that bad? I haven’t had the money…or the time, really – “

“No worries. You work hard, I get it,” he says with a warm smile. “But hopefully BigHit can comp you a ticket or two on this next tour leg.”

“God – I would love that,” you breathe, feeling giddy just at the thought.

Namjoon takes the bottle of wine from you when you hand it to him. He’s already got a corkscrew and two glasses set out for the two of you.

“I think you’d be surprised by a live show. We’re different onstage than we are day-to-day…”

You watch as he works on uncorking the wine. “Not so different, though, I bet…isn’t that why people love you?”

Namjoon quirks an eyebrow at you. “Hm?”

“Authenticity. Being genuine…I have a hard time imagining that you don’t bring a lot of your actual self on-stage every night.”

“True, true,” Namjoon reasons. He pops the cork out of the wine bottle and reaches for the glass closest to you. “I guess I meant, like…the different personas we put on. You know?”

You blink at him. “Like what?”

“Like…you know,” he says – pausing to give you a coy wink and a big white grin. “Sexy Bangtan.”

You blush instantly, barely holding back a giggle as a puff of air escapes your lips.

“Pfft – oh, God…Joon. I can’t.”

He laughs – a big, happy sound that fills the room. “What?! Is that really so hard to imagine?”

“Maybe not for the maknaes – Jimin and Tae are such exhibitionists as it is – “

“You don’t think Namjoon-ah and I are sexy?”

A deadpan voice floats into the room and the two of you look up to see Yoongi shuffling past, on his way to the kitchen. He catches your eye and pauses in the doorway. Your cheeks burn a little hotter.

“N-no, I mean – “

“That’s harsh, Y/N-ah.”

Namjoon laughs harder, the sound becoming breathier and almost squeaky. Yoongi lingers long enough for you to spot the first signs of a smirk showing in his eyes and at the corner of his lips. He’s dressed comfortably in a long-sleeved black tee and looks like he just took a shower. You swallow as he slips his hands into the pockets of his grey sweatpants.

“Do you want some wine, hyung?” Namjoon asks once he catches his breath.

Yoongi’s eyes follow your movements as you accept a glass of red from Namjoon and bring it to your lips for a long sip. He shakes his hair out and looks down at the floor.

“Nah – I just grabbed a beer. I only came out to find the bottle opener.”

The older man slips into the kitchen and you shuffle back on to the couch, bringing your knees up to cuddle them close to your chest. Namjoon pours himself a glass of the wine and clears his throat before taking his phone out of his pocket.

“So – before we get too sidetracked – I do want to get your take on some lyrics I’ve been working on…”

You settle in as Namjoon pulls up his notes app and starts talking about what he’s been writing lately. You sip at your wine as he gestures with his broad hands, describing the idea behind his song before reading you some snatches of the lyrics. The song is full of imagery – a night sky, a winding river, leaves on a breeze – and you smile as Namjoon excitedly does his best to bring it to life for you.

Yoongi leaves the kitchen after a few minutes and your attention is drawn away from Namjoon as you watch him go. His undercut is getting long, you think – and dark. Your eyes trace over the nape of his neck and the shape of his shoulders as he quietly heads back the way he came. Namjoon pauses in his explanation to drink some wine and he follows the direction of your gaze just as Yoongi slips around the corner.

“…Am I rambling too much?” he asks quietly.

“No – not at all,” you answer, flashing him a quick smile. “Can I read the lyrics on your phone?”

It’s easier for you to read than it is to listen. You ask some questions and offer a few phrasing suggestions, which Namjoon seems to take seriously as he starts typing away furiously on his phone. The two of you go back and forth, working on one verse long enough to finish the bottle of wine. Namjoon fetches another one from the kitchen – a fruity, semi-chilled red blend – and soon your conversation branches out as the ruby liquid starts to work its magic.

Namjoon tells you a bunch of stories from their time on tour as you work on your third and fourth glasses. You sit curled on the couch, head propped up by one hand where you lean your elbow against the cushions as a warm buzz settles in your bones. Namjoon is an amazing storyteller and soon your cheeks are aching from smiling so much.

He excuses himself to go to the bathroom after a while and disappears down the hall, giving you a chance to check your phone. A few minutes later, you look up to see Namjoon return – this time followed by Jungkook and Hoseok.

“Hey! What’re you guys – “

You pause midsentence as your eyes fall on a curious object in Namjoon’s hands. He’s holding something small and leafy looking.

“I hope this is OK,” he says softly, a smile playing on his lips as he watches your expression change.

You set your glass on the table, suddenly feeling a little dazed. “Joon…what – ?”

The tall man edges forward, offering the object up for you to see more clearly. It’s a tree – a tiny tree, with delicate green leaves and teeny, pink buds. It’s nestled in a shallow white pot with what looks like moss blanketing its roots.

“It’s a Satsuki azalea,” Namjoon explains. “Pretty common for bonsai actually, but this one is a little over three years old and it’s about to bloom for the first time – look.”

He comes closer and turns the pot so you can see a single, star-shaped blossom nestled among the leaves. He nudges the plant in your direction but your hands lie motionless in your lap.

“F-for me?” you stammer, still lost and sorting through a rush of different emotions. “But – “

“We know it’s your birthday, noona,” Jungkook says quickly.

“Hob-ah figured it out a while ago,” Namjoon explains. “He practically begged his manager to get the info from HR.”

Hoseok claps his hands together, tittering behind the other two members. “I didn’t want to miss it!!”

Namjoon moves to sit next to you again, setting the plant down gently on the table before putting his arm around your shoulder. You reach out and brush a fingertip against the pink bloom.

“Happy birthday, Y/N-ah.”

Your vision blurs. You forgot today is your birthday – honestly, you haven’t really celebrated the day since moving to Seoul. First you didn’t have anyone to celebrate with, and otherwise you were way too busy to make a big deal out of it; now, you’re floored by the realization that another year has flown by and this time around you have people in your life who care enough to surprise you with a perfect, tiny tree.

And you’ve had four glasses of wine. All good reasons why you’re definitely about to cry right now.

Before the tears come, Jungkook moves closer and holds something up with two sweater-pawed hands.

“Ah – I got you this, too…I didn’t have time to wrap it, though – “

He holds the object out and you take it into your own hands. It’s a jar candle, scented to smell like vanilla and cardamom.

“I wanted to say thank you for helping me with English songs. I really like working with you, and I think I’ve gotten a lot better with my English just since you started,” the maknae says earnestly.

You unfold your legs and get up from the couch, coming around the coffee table in two quick strides to wrap your arms around Jungkook’s middle. He laughs when you bury your face in the groove just below his sternum, hands coming up to pat you gently on the back.

“Aw, noona – it’s just a candle…”

“It’s not just a candle!”

You pull back enough to look at his face. The maknae grins down at you, a dusting of pink on his cheeks as he shakes his head to move the hair from in front of his eyes.

“This is…I can’t believe you guys,” you murmur. “These things are so precious – “

“You are very precious,” Namjoon cuts in. You turn to look at him and a fresh wave of tears threaten to fall. “To me. To members of this team. And to BigHit – you’ve made a real impact for us, and for our hoobaes.”

“Yah – stop making her cry!!”

Hoseok smacks Jungkook on the arm before snaking his own long limbs around your shoulders to steal you away from the maknae. As the dancer crushes you in a bone-splitting hug, you glance over his shoulder and spot two more members who’ve joined the scene. Jimin shuffles into the living room – looking sleepy, but still smiling – while Yoongi leans against the doorway to the kitchen.

“How come no one told me?” Jimin pouts cutely. He rubs at his eyes and fixes you with a sly grin. “I didn’t get you a gift, noona, but I’m sure I can whip something together real quick – “

“She doesn’t want to see your abs, Jimin-ssi,” Namjoon sighs.

“Says who??”

The members laugh at your interjection and Jimin turns a pretty shade of pink. Yoongi looks like he’s fighting off a smile; he meets your gaze for a moment before his eyes slide off to focus on the floor again. Hoseok grabs you by the shoulders and holds you in front of him so you’re facing each other square on.

“I don’t technically have a gift to give you either,” he says apologetically. His bottom lip pokes out for a second before his features brighten into a smile again. “But!! I would like to offer you a free pass for a private dance lesson.”

You cough, quickly shaking your head back and forth.

“Oh – no, God – please, you do not want me to take you up on that, Hobi – “

The members laugh again – none harder than Hoseok himself, who wraps his arms around your shoulders again and leans his weight on you as he dissolves into a thunderous bout of laughter. You think he might actually have shed a few tears when he straightens up and peers at you with a surprisingly soft look in his eye.

“You called me Hobi.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised at yourself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No!! No, it’s good,” the dancer reassures you with a warm touch on your shoulder. “We should be informal with one another. Like Namjoon-ah said, you’re a part of this team.”

You’d kill for fifteen minutes alone with a box of tissues. Hoseok pats your cheek as your eyes well up (again) but Jimin quickly shifts everyone’s attention away from you.

“Hyung, do you have something for noona?”

The members all look to where Yoongi stands quietly in the background. The tips of his ears flush red but he just rolls his eyes at the younger man.

“Jimin-ah – “

“He probably didn’t know, either,” Namjoon supplies.

“Say something, hyungie!!” Jungkook suggests eagerly. “It’s noona’s birthday!”

“Yeah, hyungie,” Jimin teases. “Didn’t you prepare a speech?”

Yoongi seems unable to form words. You watch as his shoulders creep up toward his ears, his eyelids fluttering rapidly as he brings one hand up to rub at the back of his neck. Your stomach twists and you jump to intervene.

“Have I ever told you guys I hate being the center of attention??” you say quickly, clapping your hands together once. “You’re all so, so sweet but I need a break now. Joon, give me your glass – “

You grab both of the wine glasses and the empty bottles and scurry off to the kitchen. The members leave you with more birthday wishes before slipping away to different parts of the dorm. You help yourself to the sink, making quick work of washing the glasses and rinsing out the bottles before setting them neatly on the counter.

As you’re drying your hands on a small towel, Yoongi edges into the kitchen.

“I did know it’s your birthday, for the record,” he says quietly, tracing the lines of the tile floor with the toes of one bare foot.

You hide your smile as you turn to hang the towel back up. “It’s not a big deal, really. I’ll forgive you eventually.”

He falls quiet. You expect him to make a quip, maybe tease you as a way to deflect from the moment – but when you look back at Yoongi, you find him still standing awkwardly in the doorway. He rubs at the side of his nose and clears his throat before looking at you from under his lashes.

“Can I show you something?”

You follow as he leads you out of the kitchen, trailing a few feet behind him as you move down the hallway to the last door on the left. Yoongi opens it quietly and moves aside so you can enter the room first.

It’s small and dimly lit, with two beds and two desks crammed along one wall and closets on another. Most of the light is coming from the far side of the room, where a floor lamp gives off a soft orange glow beside an open laptop. You scan the room, eyes landing on the bed closest to you. Yoongi watches as you smile at the big RJ plushie tucked-in beneath the blue comforter.

“Jin’s bed…obviously,” Yoongi explains a little sheepishly.

You cross the small space to where he positions himself by his desk, watching as he reaches for a black notebook by his laptop. He holds it in his hands for a moment, rubbing a thumb over its worn cover before flipping it open to a certain page and holding it out to you. You give him a questioning look, but he just gazes back at you steadily – eyes dark, unreadable in this light. You take the notebook and glance down at the words on the page.

The moment that I face myself at my lowest

It happens to be that I’m high up in the blue, cloudless sky

Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what you’re holding in your hands. You pore over the lyrics – a full song’s worth of lyrics – gripping the notebook tightly as the words tumble together in your mind. Yoongi breaks the silence after a minute or so.

“I keep thinking about how cold I was to you. When I saw you reading this in the studio.”

You look up quickly, mouth opening to form an apology but he shakes his head at you.

“I want to say this right,” he starts again, running a hand through his pale hair. “Last year was very…difficult. For all of the members, and also for me as an individual. I didn’t know how to express that so I tried to put it in a song.”

You glance back down at the notebook in your hands. Yoongi pauses before speaking again.

“I got nervous when you saw the lyrics. It’s not easy for me to…to show that side of myself to others,” he says quietly. “I was unkind to you. I shouldn’t have done that, because now I know you can be trusted. As another artist, you can understand – maybe – some of what I want to say in this song…”

You set the notebook back down on the desk, swallowing hard before meeting Yoongi’s eyes again. Your mouth is dry and you’re grateful that he keeps talking because you’re not sure what you would say at this point. He rests one hand on the notebook and shifts on his feet before taking a slow breath.

“I’m very glad BigHit hired you…and I’m glad you were patient enough to wait for me to show another side of myself. I wish I’d done it sooner.”

To your surprise – and his – a huff of laughter escapes your lips. You shake your head.

“I mean, I don’t know if patient is the right word,” you reply softly. “I’ve been very tempted to strangle you, at times…”

Yoongi gives a wheezy laugh, his lips pulling back to reveal teeth and gums as his eyes crinkle warmly. You tuck your hands under your arms and hold yourself tightly.

“I wasn’t kind to you either,” you continue evenly. “Sometimes I tried to see what was underneath the way you were acting toward me, but…I wish I’d tried harder.”

“I’m not easy to figure out,” he sighs. A little sadly. “Or so I’ve been told.”

“Well, neither am I,” you say quickly. “I get what it’s like…not knowing how to show yourself to others – wanting to show a certain side of yourself but you just can’t quite figure out how to do it…”

Yoongi meets your eyes, his smile gone. You wonder if he can hear your heart beating. You lick your lips.

“I wish that I’d seen you sooner. I just want to learn from you, and…and be around you. I like being around you.”

Yoongi looks blank for a moment – but then his face cracks into a shy smile, and you mirror it with your own. You get a feeling like a thousand tiny butterflies have been released in your stomach – an effervescent feeling that floods your veins in seconds. Yoongi fluffs at the hair at the back of his head and you spot his lips doing that endearing thing where they twitch to the side when he’s feeling flustered. Then he clears his throat loudly.

“Well – now that that’s out of the way…maybe I have a slightly better birthday present for you…”

Yoongi leans over his laptop and maximizes a window nestled in the toolbar at the bottom of the screen. He pulls out the chair in front of his desk and picks up his headphones, holding them out to you silently. You gape, looking between the laptop and his face a few times.

“Wh-what? Is that…do you want me to listen?”

He nods. “You were helpful the other night in my studio. I thought maybe you’d want to hear another song.”

“Another – another song??” you splutter, taking the headphones from him with both hands. “You’re letting me hear a new one?”

“Mhm.”

You clutch the headset to your chest, giving him wide, earnest eyes.

“My special present is…getting to help you again?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Just put your ass in the chair, princess.”

“Hey – don’t tell me what to do with my ass...”

Your words sound sharp but you can’t keep the smile out of your voice as you primly take a seat at Yoongi’s desk. He perches on the edge of his bed and watches as you slip the headphones over your ears and press play.

It is a new song. You realize it at the first chime of a curious instrument in the opening – a xylophone, maybe? Or some kind of synth keys. The lyrics are simple, the rhythm casual; you realize Yoongi’s rap is free of his usual syncopation and biting tongue. When the song reaches the first chorus, you quickly pull your headphones down to sit around your neck and look over at Yoongi.

“You’re singing??”

He nods, looking a little awkward as he folds his arms over his stomach. “It’s a rough cut, though, so – “

“It’s great!” you say quickly, pulling one of the earpieces up so you can keep listening. “Can I see the lyrics?”

You scoot back so he can re-open his notebook and lay it out for you to read. You follow the words as the song plays on, marveling at the way his voice weaves a careful path around the beat as he raps. Yoongi watches as a grin spreads over your face.

“You like it?”

You beam at him, unable to hide the giddy look in your eye as your pulse picks up and your fingers start tingling.

“I love it. It…It’s like, pretty. So different from the first track – “

“I wasn’t writing it for myself, originally. It just kind of took shape like this. It’s not a vocal style I’m super comfortable with.”

You shake your head. “It sounds amazing. Like, I can’t really believe it’s you singing, but…it’s brilliant.”

Yoongi smiles as you swipe your fingers across the pad on his laptop and restart the track. “Getting any good ideas?”

“Mm…about a million. I don’t know if they’re good, but…”

He stands up from the bed and steps nearer to you, reaching across his desk to tug at other components of his setup. Yoongi arranges a mic and a pop-filter alongside the laptop.

“Have at it,” he says simply.

You stare at him. He just smirks when you point a limp finger at the mic.

“Like – put my voice on it?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Why not? I’m gonna go find more wine.”

You watch as he starts to shuffle toward the door. “Are you sure??”

“Yeah. Jin won’t be back tonight, so just do your thing. No whistling, though.”

With that, Yoongi slips into the hall and closes the door behind him.

To anyone else, this would be a seriously weird situation – but to you, it’s a carnival ride. The nerdy producer part of your brain whirrs into high gear and you quickly get to work recording some adlibbed vocals and harmony at different parts of the track. You’re not a vocalist, but your voice seems to sync easily with Yoongi’s guide and his equipment makes everything sound sweet. You can practically feel the dopamine flooding your system as you play around with different takes, not lingering too long with any particular one and just letting yourself enjoy this moment – this gift.

Yoongi returns sometime later and hands you another glass of red wine. You down half of it in just a few gulps, feeling exhilarated as you chatter away about your recordings and his lyrics and his setup. He unhooks the laptop from a few cables and brings it over to his bed, discarding the headphones on the floor next to his own glass of wine. Eager to see what he does next, you crawl on to the bed and sit cross-legged beside him, craning your neck to watch the monitor as he cues up some of your recordings for playback.

“Are you gonna make fun of me?” you ask, suddenly feeling nervous.

“No,” Yoongi replies.

“Promise??”

“No.”

You whine quietly and he just chuckles. Yoongi presses play on one of the vocal recordings and the sound of your voice fills the room – softly, but still the sound surprises you. Your voice is laid over the instrumentals and your face heats up as you watch Yoongi listening intently to the snatch of music. After a few moments, he turns to look at you.

“Hey – why are you making that face??”

You have your hands curled up, knuckles pressed to your lips as you hold your breath. Unable to speak, you shake your head quickly and Yoongi just laughs.

“Princess – come on,” he smiles. “It’s good!”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Right – because I so often take to baseless flattery,” he quips. He looks back at the screen and clicks his tongue softly. “You have a sweet voice.”

Warmth blossoms in your belly. Possibly because of the wine, you think – the wine that’s also making you feel pretty bold right now.

“You think my voice is sweet?”

“Yes,” Yoongi says simply. “I’m not a singer either, you know…but we all have our moments.”

You scoff quietly. “You have more than moments, Yoongs.”

He quirks an eyebrow at the sound of the nickname and you giggle. You’re sure he’s about to scold you but he just shakes his head, pressing his lips together as he reaches for his glass of wine.

“You’re lucky we just shared a tender moment…”

You scoot closer as Yoongi keeps clicking through the recordings. He selects a few and starts laying them in with his own vocals – pausing here and there to mix the various tracks and toy with the levels. He makes comments as he works and listens intently when you start to pepper him with questions about his coding system for the tracks. The longer you sit on the bed together, the better the song starts to sound each time he plays it back.

You finish your wine and lean over to place the glass on the floor; when you straighten back up, you feel a little woozy. Yoongi watches you carefully as you sway a bit in your seat, smiling when a length of your hair falls forward over your shoulder.

“Your hair looks different.”

You furrow your brow at him. “Huh?”

He reaches for a particular wavy piece that frames your face. “It’s kind of…curly. Is it always like this?”

There’s a fluttering feeling in your chest as you watch Yoongi gently twist your hair between his fingers. As soon as he pulls back his hand, you do your best to brush your hair behind your ears.

“Ah…it was raining on the way over. My hair gets kind of crazy when it rains.”

Yoongi nods, his eyes dark but warm as he looks at you. Seeing him here like this – relaxed and a little drunk; his face lit by the pale glow of the computer screen – suddenly reminds you of that night in his studio. You remember the warmth of his weight behind you on the small couch; the soft look of his face in the morning when you left him still sleeping. Suddenly his closeness here is overwhelming, and the smell of him – like soap, and citrus, and something else familiar and cozy – is enough to make your heart pound in your chest.

You think maybe Yoongi can hear it, because then he asks you a quiet question:

“Do you want to go home?”

It’s a strange question, you think – you’re not sure if he’s offering for you to stay here, or if he’s just being polite and giving you an easy way of excusing yourself. You think for a few moments before you lift one shoulder in a shrug.

“Not really…”

Yoongi’s features remain the same – placid, open – but he leans toward you by just a fraction of an inch. Or maybe it’s you that leans in, you realize, as a dizzy feeling swoops over you – a feeling like you’re standing at the brink of a high ledge. The warmth in your stomach glows back to life and you breathe deeply through your nose as you study his face from this new position.

He's got a pretty face, you think…a pretty nose. Pretty eyes. His upper lip has this plush look to it and you wonder how you’ve never noticed the perfect little scoop in the center of his cupid’s bow. You can feel his body heat from where you sit and you’re not sure how long you’ve been staring at each other like this but all the wine you drank paired with Yoongi’s smell has put you in some weird, sleepy trance and you realize you really, really don’t want to go home…

“…but maybe I should.”

Yoongi doesn’t move immediately – just looks back into your eyes for a bit, quiet and still until he responds with a slow nod. There’s no rush in his movements as he closes his laptop and sets it aside before standing up from the bed. You move to follow him but wobble as you get to your feet – your leg is a little too close to the side of the bed as you stand and you almost tip back down on to the mattress.

You automatically latch on to Yoongi’s arm in an attempt to steady yourself. He freezes, core going rigid as his hands dart to help catch you – but they stop short, palms just hovering over your waist. You use his weight to pull yourself upright.

“Ah – sorry – “

“It’s OK. Here – “

Yoongi cups your elbow and makes room for you to move away from the edge of the mattress. Feeling sheepish, you duck your head and shimmy past him in the small space between the bedframe, desk and wall. You’re really feeling the wine now that you’re back on your feet; it’s obvious in your uneven steps and the way you want to lean into Yoongi’s touch where he uses one hand on your lower back to steer you safely out of the room.

You feel a little more composed once you get into the hallway. Yoongi’s hand falls away as he follows you back toward the front room, his feet making soft shuffling sounds against the wood floor in the quiet of the dorm.

“Do you want to leave your gifts here? We can bring them to the office when we go in next…”

You reach the foyer and look into the living room where your bonsai and candle still sit on the coffee table – you’d almost forgotten about them completely.

“Yeah – thanks, that would be great,” you say. You slip your coat over your shoulders and turn to smile at Yoongi. “What about yours, though?”

“What – the song?”

You nod. Yoongi chuckles softly, rubbing at the hair on the back of his head as he looks off to the side.

“I’ll let you know what I end up doing with it...”

The dorm seems deserted aside from you and Yoongi standing near the front door; most of the lights have been turned off and you honestly have no idea what time it is at this point. You’re ready to go home but you linger, extending the moment before you have to see yourself out. Yoongi’s dark eyes are on your face again and you’re torn between the urge to bolt and the urge to hug him – the first impulse is familiar, the second one not so much. Before you can decide, Yoongi speaks up again.

“Are you OK getting home on your own?”

You do your best to give him a reassuring smile. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

He nods and slips his hands into the pockets of his sweats. “Alright – well…text me when you get there.”

The urge to hug him intensifies and you hope he can’t see the way you’re flushing. You keep your eyes on his as you reach for the door handle, unable to look away until the last possible moment.

“I can do that. Goodnight, Yoongs.”

Yoongi lies flat on his back, hands tucked under the pillow beneath his head as he stares up at the dark ceiling.

He can’t actually sleep like this – he has to sleep on his side, usually in the fetal position though it sometimes feels a little undignified – but he’s not really trying to sleep yet. His mind is still going a mile a minute even as his body starts to wind down for the night.

Yoongi didn’t plan on hanging out with you tonight. He’s grateful that Namjoon thought to give him a heads up about you coming over, though. It gave him enough time to shower and tidy up a bit and now he’s wondering exactly why Namjoon felt the need to poke his head into Yoongi’s bedroom and warn him about your arrival…

His stomach churns at the memory of Jimin putting him on the spot about your birthday. He chews at his lip, feeling mildly irritated until his mind floats further back and cues up the image of Namjoon giving you that bonsai.

Yoongi closes his eyes so he can see it more clearly: the initial look of surprise on your face, and then the shine of moisture in your eyes once you realized what was happening. The way you beamed when Hoseok wrapped you up in a hug. Yoongi thinks about how he hung back while the other members gave you their presents – how desperate he felt to do something, anything that would draw the same reaction out of you.

But he did, didn’t he?

Yoongi stirs in his sheets, rubbing a hand over his chest as he thinks about the sound of your voice in those recordings. It’s weird that just an hour or so earlier, you were here with him – in this bed, sitting so close that he could smell the vanilla in your shampoo. His lips twitch with a smile as he remembers your drunk little giggle, the glow you had when he played a new song for you.

The person in his room seemed so different from the one he was beefing with for those long first months. Those times seem far away now, Yoongi thinks, and it’s hard to remember why he ever felt so cross with you. You’re so open now, and vibrant…bright like some kind of jewel. His mind drifts to the emerald dress you wore to the fundraiser and the way the lights played off the silky fabric. He wishes he could remember it more clearly – wishes he could remember the shape of you that night - like he remembers the curve of your ass from that time you bent over during a meeting to reach for the bowl of snacks in the center of the massive conference table…

Yoongi turns over on his side, starting to feel drowsy even as the blood stirs in the length between his legs. He wonders if you’re in bed by now – and tries not to wonder about what you’re wearing. He distracts himself with the image of you standing at the front door of the dorm with flushed cheeks and sleepy eyes. He couldn’t stop looking at your mouth, hooked on the way the fullest parts of your lips were stained berry-red with wine.

Yoongi’s last thoughts before drifting to sleep are about the look you gave him when you said goodnight. His palms feel warm at the thought, remembering how he had to stuff his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for you.

Chapter Text

“SHOTS!! More shots!!”

The group of women you’re with erupts into cheers for what seems like the millionth time tonight. You cheer along with them, but only halfheartedly.

Tonight’s been fun. You’d accepted Songhee’s invitation to meet up with some of her childhood friends who are in town for a bachelorette party. She’d practically begged you to come, actually – from how she told it, she hadn’t seen most of these women in years and they weren’t really her scene anymore.

You realized what she meant as soon as the two of you merged with the group in a club in Itaewon. They’re all very girly – which is cool, honestly; you’re comfortable getting down with your feminine side and it’s been a long time since you’d hung out with a big group of women. But while you could mostly blend in with them in a mockneck minidress and black stiletto-heeled booties, Songhee was clearly sporting a different vibe. Dressed in leather leggings, a bandeau top and a huge faux-fur coat, Songhee stuck out against the array of delicate dresses and high heels.

The differences went beyond fashion choices, as you’d discovered early on in the night. Most of the women are engaged or already married – one of them even has a two-year-old at home. They all work desk jobs and seemed surprised – maybe even worried – when you told them a bit about your career and how you met Songhee on the DJ circuit.

They’re nice, though, and you’ve really enjoyed getting a night away from your life at BigHit so you plaster on a smile and throw back another shot when it’s offered to you.

You’re sat on a stool at the bar in an attempt to give your feet a break from dancing. It’s late – long after midnight – and Songhee left more than an hour ago. She said she had business to take care of – which, as you’ve learned, is code for hooking up with this hunky bartender she met a few weeks ago. Good for her, you think.

As you slide your shot glass back across the bar, a manicured hand closes around your upper arm.

“Y/N-ah,” Haewon hisses excitedly in your ear. At least, you’re pretty sure her name is Haewon. “That guy is still looking at you!!”

You glance around, following her gaze to a tall man standing by the other end of the bar. He’s vaguely cute in a cheesy, preppy kind of way.

“Don’t point,” you hiss back, gently grabbing her wrist when she raises her hand.

“He’s handsome!”

“He’s a guy in a bar and we’re drunk, of course he’s handsome.”

She swats your arm. “He’s coming over here!!”

“He – what??”

You look up again and yup – Guy In A Bar is sauntering his way over to where you’re stood with the other women. Haewon lets out a little squeal and turns to one of her friends, leaving you wide open to his approach. He stops in front of you, smiling as the women break out in a smattering of hushed giggles.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you return.

“I’m Seojun.”

You smile. “Nice to meet you, Seojun.”

He pauses, waiting for you to give your name; when you don’t, he looks down at his feet and chuckles.

“Alright…that’s cool. Can I buy you a drink?”

Hm. Straightforward. You can work with that. You give him a shrug, tossing your hair back over one shoulder.

“You can, if it’s a vodka tonic – I’m with these ladies for the night, though, so it may not get you anywhere.”

He grins and steps in to lean over the bar and order for you. While he’s waiting for your drink to come, you turn to Haewon and the other women.

“Should I see if he’ll buy us all a round?” you whisper.

They giggle again.

“No!! Don’t be rude. He’s cute.”

“You have to get his number!”

“I miss being single, do it for me!!”

You roll your eyes but humor them with a laugh and a wink. You have no intention of getting his number or anything – in fact, you’re not even in the mood for another drink – but you’ll go along with it for the entertainment factor alone.

You turn around and find Seojun holding out your drink. He clinks his glass against yours and watches as you take a sip.

“Cheers,” he says with a smile. “So…bachelorette party?”

“Yup.”

“Tell me you’re not the one getting married...”

You laugh at that. “No way – that would be…ah…her – “

You point out the woman you think is the bride-to-be. You don’t remember her name but she’s the only one wearing all white.

Seojun smirks. “You had to think about that one, huh?”

“These are friends of a friend, actually. I just tagged along for the night.”

“Really? And what kind of trouble have you ladies gotten into so far?”

You chat with Seojun for a while, giving him a rundown of the night. He asks about your work and without mentioning BigHit at all, you tell him a vague description of what it’s like to be in the music industry. He works in finance, apparently – not surprising given the way he’s dressed. He smells a bit like money.

You’re only halfway into your drink when you excuse yourself to use the bathroom, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded. You shouldn’t have taken that last shot, you think. The line for the ladies’ room is mercifully short and you shut yourself in a stall before pulling out your phone to order a ride home.

Just as you confirm your pick-up, a text pops up.

MYG [02:14]: are you in the studio tonight?

You wish you spent tonight in the studio instead. You’ve seen Yoongi only sporadically over the last week but each time solidified the changes in your relationship a little more. On Monday you bribed him with snacks in exchange for a short piano lesson; on Thursday he actually gave you the code to Genius Lab just so you could sneak in there for a nap one afternoon while Bangtan was off at a shoot. Lately you find yourself looking for excuses to hang out with him – which is still kind of weird, but definitely a nice change from how things used to be.

Aside from all that, you’re tired and definitely too drunk to be out any longer – you’re starting to feel nauseated and suddenly you’d give anything to be home in your bed. When you stand up from your seat on top of the toilet lid and toddle out of the stall, you’re unsteady on your feet. You take a sip of water from the sink and head back out into the club, ready to find Haewon and let her know you’re leaving.

But when you reach the bar, all the women are gone.

You look around, confused. It’s a big club – are you just at the wrong bar? Are you that drunk that you got lost on the way back from the bathroom? The music in here is insanely loud and just adds to your growing sense of disorientation. You want to get out.

Just as you start toward the front doors, someone claps a hand on your shoulder. Seojun.

“Hey,” he shouts over the music, grinning wide. “You didn’t finish your drink. I grabbed it for you.”

He holds out the tumbler of vodka but you shake your head.

“No, I…I’m good. I was looking for my friends – “

“Oh, they all left,” he says, looking concerned. “But I thought you said they weren’t your friends anyway?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you shrug. You just want to get rid of him, honestly. “Look, I’m going home...”

“Alone?”

You pause, eyes honing in on Seojun’s face. It’s hard to keep your eyes trained on one spot. He slides his hand down from your shoulder to your arm, squeezing you lightly.

“Why don’t you just stay – we can have another drink, and I’ll take you home.”

A nasty, nervous feeling stirs in the pit of your stomach. You can’t tell if it’s triggered by the pressure of his hand on your arm, or by the way the room seems to be sliding out of focus all of a sudden. You take a step back from him, pulling your arm out of his hold.

“I don’t know you,” you say firmly. “I have a ride waiting, so – “

“Just finish your drink,” Seojun presses. He reaches for your arm again. “Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to be nice.”

You dodge his hand and take off for the front doors, pushing your way through the crowded club to put as much space between you and Seojun as possible. You’re sketched out – feeling way too drunk and super unnerved by the realization that you’re all alone. You look back over your shoulder to make sure he’s not following you, but it’s hard to make out individual faces in the sea of clubgoers.

Your head is swimming by the time you get outside onto the street, but the cool night air helps. There’s a swarm of people outside of the club and the street is packed with cars. You crane your neck to look for your ride – and spot Seojun standing about twenty feet away, by the curb. He must have gotten out here ahead of you somehow. Shit.

Without thinking, you take off down the street away from him. Adrenaline and rising panic drive you away from the club at a fast clip, your heels clacking on the sidewalk as you hurry past a strip of crowded bars and restaurants. Everything seems too bright and too loud – you just want to get away from this part of the street so you can catch your breath.

You don’t stop moving until you’ve made it several blocks away and taken a few turns to escape the frenzy of the main strip. You’re dizzy, and cold – thankfully your dress has long sleeves but you didn’t even realize you left your coat behind at the club until now. Looking down at your phone, you realize your driver cancelled the ride. You curse, opening up the ride app to call a second one – but there are no cars available. You’re stuck.

The panic swells in your chest and your head starts to spin. You can feel your heartbeat thudding in your throat and a thin sheen of sweat breaks out across your skin – but even as your anxiety climbs, your limbs feel heavy and everything seems to be moving in slow motion. Even looking at your phone is difficult and your thoughts are muddied.

On wobbly legs, you stumble over to a signpost and steady yourself against it as you lower down to sit on the curb. You draw your knees up to your chest and take deep breaths, willing your heart to slow as you start to shiver from the cold and your nerves. You lay your head against your knee and close your eyes.

You should call Songhee. She’s probably wrapped up in bed with that bartender, but maybe she’d pick up. You could try waiting a while and see if any cars free up on your ride app. You could try and make your way back to the main strip, maybe find a cab…but all of these options feel like impossible tasks right now. You’re exhausted, nerves shot and it feels like you’re fighting to stay totally conscious at this point.

You take out your phone, squinting at the screen as you pull up your text messages. You open your most recent one and click on the name at the top of the thread before holding the phone to your ear.

It rings awhile before a sleepy-sounding voice answers.

“Hello?”

“Y-Yoongi…?”

He pauses. “Princess…why are you still up?”

You feel your throat tighten. “I…I’m out. With f-friends. But they left, and I d-don’t know how to get home…”

There’s a rustling noise on the other end of the line. When Yoongi speaks again, he sounds more awake.

“Where are you?”

“On a street. S-somewhere.”

He sighs. “What street?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “I’m in Itaewon…we were at a club…”

“Are you by yourself?”

“Yeah. Th-the others, they left…left me with this guy, I had to r-run out on the street – “

“What?” Yoongi’s voice is sharp. “What do you mean, you had to run?”

Tears burn at the back of your eyes. You take a shuddery breath, squeezing your eyes shut as the street appears to start tilting around you.

“…Y/N-ah?”

“I don’t feel good,” you answer softly, voice starting to crack. “I don’t know w-why I called you…I’m s-sorry, I got scared – “

“Don’t be sorry,” he cuts you off, though his voice is gentle. “I’m at my apartment, but I can come to you. Are you safe where you are right now?”

“Yoongi, you can’t – you can’t be in public, I d-don’t – “

“Can you just answer the question?”

You pause, hiccupping. “Yeah. I’m safe.”

There’s a long pause. You can hear faint noises in the background, and the sound of Yoongi’s breath – it kind of sounds like he’s jogging.

“I need you to tell me where you are so I can pick you up.”

Something about the tone in his voice makes you crumble, and you choke out a sob into the receiver.

“I d-don’t know, I…I don’t know where I am, I’m s-sorry…”

Your words are beginning to slur together, dissolving into meaningless syllables as you start full-on crying. Yoongi hums a worried sound into the phone.

“Fuck – princess, please – don’t do that,” he pleads. “Y/N-ah, baby, just take a breath…can you send me a pin?”

You sniffle loudly. “I – I think so…”

“OK,” he says. You can hear a car door slamming in the background. “Just drop me your pin and stay put. Can you do that?”

“Y-yeah.”

“OK. It’s OK. I’ll be there soon. Just hold on.”

He hangs up, and you fumble to send him your location before dropping your phone into your lap and curling into yourself. You lean your forehead on your knees and shut your eyes again.

Yoongi’s coming. It could take a long time, you think…and it’s so cold. You can’t fall asleep here. But it feels impossible to stay awake…he said he’ll be here soon…

There’s no way to tell how much time passes before Yoongi arrives. You don’t hear him pull up – suddenly you’re just awake, and he’s there.

Lifting your head from your knees takes all of your strength. It feels like your head is full of cement. Your vision is blurred but you recognize Yoongi’s slim form climbing out of a black SUV. He crosses the deserted street quickly, eyes scanning the area as he reaches you in just a few quiet strides.

His hands are warm where he takes you by the upper arms, helping you to your feet without a word. His touch is gentle even though you can tell he’s doing all the lifting – your legs feel like jelly and once you’re upright you collapse against Yoongi. He catches you easily by the waist, arranging your arms around his shoulders as he murmurs in your ear.

You have no idea what he’s saying, but just the low timbre of Yoongi’s voice sends a ripple of relief through your body. You crush your face against the space where his shoulder joins the column of his neck, eyes wet as you breathe in his scent. You’re so tired.

Yoongi somehow gets you across the street and helps you into the SUV. As soon as he shuts the door, you know you’re safe. You lean your head against the leather material of the car seat and it’s only moments before you’re fast asleep.

It’s a wonder that Yoongi got home in one piece.

He’d gripped the steering wheel the whole way, knuckles white and palms sweaty as he drove you out of Itaewon. You were passed out cold – he knew that – but he couldn’t help glancing over every three seconds just to make sure you were still breathing. Still safe. Still tucked under the black puffer coat he’d draped over your sleeping form.

Yoongi tried to wake you up at one point, to ask where you live. It was a pretty half-assed attempt, though…if he’s honest, he felt much better about taking you back to his apartment. He didn’t have to worry about parking or security – he could get you inside through the garage without worrying about being seen. The last thing he needs is a scandal involving him dragging an unconscious woman around in the dead of night. He also didn’t want to leave you alone – couldn’t settle with the thought of dropping you off and leaving you with no one around to take care of you.

Yoongi’s getting soft. Straight up weak when it comes to you. He thinks about this as he pulls into his assigned parking spot, cursing under his breath and unbuckling his seatbelt.

Whatever. He’d do the same for any friend, he thinks. If he’s soft, fine – this is what any decent person would do for someone in trouble.

Yoongi rounds the hood of the car to open your door and moves to unbuckle you – but pauses, hand suspended in the air over your knees. His coat has slid from your lap to the floor of the SUV, revealing the sight of your legs. They’re bare, soft-looking. Long legs, he thinks, even though you’re pretty damn short. They look especially long when you’re in this dress:  the one that was short to begin with and now is riding up, showing off even more of your thighs –

Yoongi shakes his head, mentally scolding himself as he quickly unbuckles your seat belt. Not the time, he thinks furiously – you trusted him to help you. This is not the time for his head to nosedive into the gutter. You need a friend. He needs to get a grip.

He puts a hand on your shoulder and gives you a gentle shake.

“Y/N-ah…wake up.”

You let out a pitifully small moan. He shakes you again, watching as you start to lift your head.

“Come on – let’s get inside.”

Yoongi helps you down from the SUV, letting you lean against the hood of the car while he shuts the door and makes sure everything is locked. He helps you into the puffer coat, holding his tongue while you mumble slurred protests at him and struggle with getting your arms into the sleeves.

“’M cold. This sucks.”

“I know,” he says, watching you sway where you’re standing. “Almost home, though.”

“Wan’ go to bed,” you whine, eyes barely slits as you peer at him. “Sleep…lemme sleep.”

He chuckles softly – he can’t help it. You look cute like this. Cute and ridiculous.

“Alright, princess. Look – come here…”

By some miracle, Yoongi manages to get you to climb on his back. You hook your arms around his neck and he tries not to think too much about how soft your skin is where he holds your knees at his waist. He prays his coat is enough to keep you covered up in your awkward piggyback position as he shuffles quickly through the garage and on to the elevator.

Once inside his apartment, he gently lowers your feet to the floor and wraps an arm around your waist to lead you down the hallway. You seem to be waking up a bit at this point and you’re starting to chatter and hiccup in his ear.

“Wh-where are we?”

“My place,” he answers, steering you into his bedroom.

“Oh,” you say softly, sounding worried. “Is that…appro…approrp..apporprit..ap-pprop – “

“I think it’s a little late to worry about decorum, don’t you think? Watch out – ”

Yoongi plops you on his bed where you land with a small bounce. He gets down on his knees and starts fighting with the zipper on your boots. He looks at the height of the heel and wonders how the hell you walk in these things, drunk or not.

There’s a rustling noise and he glances up to see you shrugging your way out of the coat. You’re frowning – a tiny line forming between your brows as you look at him.

“You came n’ got me,” you say quietly.

Yoongi nods, dropping his eyes back down to your boots. He slides one off and tosses it aside. You let out a single hiccup.

“Yoon…I’m…”

He gets the other one off and straightens up, heading for his closet. “It’s nothing. Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

He sorts through some of his clothes, pulling out an oversized t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats.

“N-no,” you say from behind him, a little louder. “I’m…I don’t – “

You’re incoherent, he thinks, sighing quietly to himself.

“Here – you can change into these. They’ll be huge on you, but – “

The words evaporate from Yoongi’s mouth as soon as he turns around. His eyes land on you just as you’re pulling your dress up over your head, hair falling around your shoulders in messy waves as you let the garment slide to the floor.

It’s insane, he thinks – both how perfect you look and how screwed he is. He can’t help the thought from crossing his mind as he takes in the sight of you sitting mostly undressed on his bed. Yoongi’s mouth goes dry as you press your hands back into the mattress, dropping your head back and pushing your chest forward just enough to draw his eye down to your cleavage. You’ve got this delicate, blush-colored bit of underwear on – it’s mostly mesh and lace, and if he looks any longer he’ll definitely be able to make out the shape and shade of your nipples.

That’s not knowledge he can stand to have right now, so he lets his eyes wander lower. Over your ribs and the toned stretch of your stomach. Down to where the thickest part of your hips rests against the bed, your thighs pressed together so your panties are only visible as this tiny, perfect triangle of fabric that he’s dying to peel off of you –

Yoongi swallows thickly. Time seems to stretch as you bring your head back up to meet his eyes, a pout on your lips as they part and a quiet whine slips out:

“Yoongi…”

He loses it. Instinct – or panic – takes over and Yoongi does the first thing that comes to mind.

He chucks the t-shirt at you. It hits you in the chest with a small flump; he hurriedly turns away as you let out a shocked squeak. His face is burning. Yoongi drops the sweatpants to the floor and rubs furiously at one of his sideburns.

“Ah – I’ll sleep on the couch, so…j-just get dressed and let me know if you need anything – “

“Wait!! Please…”

Your voice sounds so helpless, so serious that it stops Yoongi from bolting for the door. He turns around slowly, keeping his eyes pinned to the wood floor – but thankfully you’ve already pulled the t-shirt on over your head. Yoongi watches as you get up from the bed, wobbling where you stand barefooted before him.

“I don’t…I don’t feel good – “

That’s all you manage to get out before you’re rushing from the room. You’re quick, for being so drunk – Yoongi has to scramble after you, calling out directions to the bathroom as you careen down the hallway.

When he catches up with you, you’ve already got your head deep in the toilet. He quickly crosses over to you, crouching down so he can gather your hair back from your face. He grimaces at the sound of you retching and settles himself behind you on the floor.

“You’re OK,” he says softly, using his free hand to rub at your back. He can feel the boney ridge of your spine beneath the thin t-shirt. “I’ve got you.”

Yoongi waits for you to finish and pulls you back to lean against his chest after you flush away the sick. He catches a glimpse of your face and you look just miserable, eyes red and puffy against the pallid tone of your skin. You’re sniffling, and even though Yoongi’s absolutely exhausted he can’t resist the impulse to soothe you with a gentle rubbing of his palms along your arms.

As you start to quiet, Yoongi leans his head back against the glass shower wall behind him. Your body is like a warm, weighted blanket leaned on his chest and he wonders if he can fall asleep like this.

Chapter Text

You wake to the warmth of sunlight on your face.

It’s streaming in from a gap between the curtains, falling in a solid beam across your cheek. You blink a few times to bring your eyes into focus and notice the dust motes caught by the column of golden light, thousands of specks turned to sparkles in the glow of morning. At least, you think it’s still morning.

As you begin to stir, you register a dull, pounding ache behind your eyes. Your mouth feels horribly dry and your limbs weak. You let out a small groan and turn to press your face into the pillow, hoping you can sleep for at least a little bit longer…until a familiar scent floods your senses.

Yoongi. This is Yoongi’s bed. The realization hits you softly, followed by the slap of recollection as scenes from last night start to surface: feeling dizzy in the bathroom at the club; running through Itaewon; crying on the phone. A knot forms in your stomach and you flip over on to your back. It’s easy enough to piece together how you got here, or at least the gist of it – but the gaps in your memory are making you uneasy.

You prop yourself up on both elbows to take in your surroundings. Yoongi’s bed is huge – king-sized for sure, the firm mattress fitted with flint-colored sheets and a white down comforter. The room is sparsely furnished aside from a few basics; looking at the side table to your left, you spot your phone, a glass of water, and a small piece of paper. You recognize Yoongi’s handwriting and reach for the note right away.

I had to leave for a shoot. Stay as long as you want. There is coffee in the fridge. I left my keys on the counter so you can take my car, it’s in the garage. I can pick it up later if you send me your address.

A mild burning sensation tingles behind your eyes and your vision gets blurry. You tend to cry when you’re hungover, but this time you’re pretty sure the reaction has more to do with the note. You press the heels of your hands against your eyelids briefly, stilling the tears before throwing back the covers and sliding out of bed.

You find your dress folded neatly and laid out on a chair by the bedroom door. On the floor next to it are your boots and a pair of slide sandals; deciding against a total walk-of-shame outfit, you keep Yoongi’s sweats on and step into the slides as you check your phone.

There are three texts from Songhee that you’re too tired to read right now. You wonder what you should tell her about last night – if it’s worth mentioning the way her friends split and left you with some random douche at a club. Then you’d have to explain the rest, you think…she’d probably have a field day over the fact that you blacked out and woke up in an idol’s bed. Then again, it’s technically not the first time that’s happened…

Yoongi’s apartment is spacious but simple, like his bedroom. You carry your belongings down the hall and into the kitchen – which is admittedly the nicest one you’ve ever seen. Much like his studio, Yoongi’s kitchen is decked out with sleek equipment and personal details that reflect his taste. It’s clear where his priorities lie and you’ve grown to appreciate that about him.

Taking the set of car keys from the marble counter, you open your phone again and fire off a quick series of texts:

Y/N [09:24]: full disclosure, it’s been awhile since i’ve been behind the wheel so say a prayer for your car

Y/N [09:24]: also i’m taking your shoes

Y/N [09:27]: thank you

Y/N [09:28}: i’m sorry…

After getting home, you slept most of the day. Late in the evening you took a long, hot shower and put on comfy clothes in an attempt to relax before going back to bed – but it didn’t exactly work. You laid awake for a couple of hours before getting up again, too restless to do anything that involves being still.

It’s about 11:30 when you get started on deep cleaning your kitchen. You often clean when you feel nervous or guilty – tonight you’re feeling both as you wait to hear from Yoongi about picking up his car. You scrub out your oven and reorganize your junk drawer; you take a spare toothbrush and a bottle of bleach to the grout between the tiles of your kitchen floor. You decide to take all the shelves out of the fridge and wash them down – which is how you find yourself in front of the kitchen sink in sleep shorts and a thin t-shirt, elbow-deep in soapy water at midnight when a knock comes at your front door.

You strip off your rubber gloves and head to check the peephole; even though you’ve been expecting to see him at some point, your stomach still does a little flip when you open the door to let Yoongi inside.

He’s barefaced, looking like he just scrubbed off a day’s worth of makeup with his platinum hair pushed under a backwards baseball cap. He greets you quietly, dark eyes roving over your face in a brief search before turning to scan your living space. Suddenly your apartment feels tinier than ever: the front door is only a few feet from your couch, which takes up most of your living room and even from the entrance you can look straight into the kitchen. Yoongi’s got a backpack slung over one shoulder and he drops it on said couch; you head back toward the sink and he trails after you.

“You good, princess?”

Yoongi’s voice is even, casual – but you can tell he’s trying to get a deeper read on you.

“Yeah,” you answer, dipping your hands back into the warm suds. “I’m alright.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything. He’s quiet behind you, out of your line of vision – maybe waiting for you to say more. After a minute, he appears at your side; he’s removed his hoodie and stands just in a loose t-shirt and black jeans. He’s got a dish towel in one hand, the other waiting palm up to receive the piece of glass shelving you just washed. You know there’s no arguing with him, so you hand it over.

“I’m sorry about last night,” you say quietly, keeping your eyes trained on the faucet in front of you.

“It’s OK.”

You huff out a breath. “I feel…like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.”

You figured Yoongi would scold you right off the bat – maybe playfully, but either way you’d expected something different. Instead of his usual teasing he just keeps on drying and setting pieces of your fridge aside on the counter. He clears his throat after a while.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

You lift one shoulder to your ear in an awkward shrug. “Nothing, really…I was out with some girls at a club. I got too drunk, I guess – I started to feel kind of dizzy…so I went to the bathroom and when I came back they had all disappeared.”

“…And you were left by yourself?”

“Yeah,” you say, furrowing your brow as you think back on the night. “I’d been talking to this guy – just some random dude at the bar – and he kind of…got in my face when I was trying to leave.”

Beside you, Yoongi’s movements slow as he’s taking another piece of shelving from you. “He got in your face? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. He like…grabbed my arm – it wasn’t a big deal. I’d let him buy me a drink at the bar, I think he thought…that I was, like, gonna go home with him or something – “

You hear Yoongi exhale heavily through his nose.

“It’s stupid, I know – I just got spooked. I left the club and took off – too drunk to know where I was going. I got lost and then I called you, obviously – and that’s…that’s really all…”

Yoongi sets the last panel on the counter, angling his body to face yours as he offers you the towel to dry your hands.

“…You don’t remember anything after that, do you?”

You shake your head, cheeks turning hot. “Not really, no.”

You’re mortified – but to your surprise, Yoongi just chuckles. He picks up a few pieces of shelving and carries them over to your fridge.

“Well, you weren’t too much of a brat,” he says, eyeing you over his shoulder for a brief moment as he starts putting the panels back in place. “You slept the whole drive back to my place. Had to carry you inside – you’re heavier than you look, though, so I’ll be sending you the physical therapy bill for my shoulder this month – “

“Yoongi-yah – !“

“Then you woke up and wouldn’t stop talking – no surprise there…and then you threw up. A lot.”

You clap your hands over your face.

Yoongi laughs, reaching for more shelving. “It’s not a big deal. Happens to everyone. You passed right out after that.”

“Oh, God,” you moan from behind your fingers. “I’m an idiot.”

“Stop saying that,” he says gently, his laughter fading. He closes the fridge and watches as you lean both elbows against the kitchen counter, head in your hands. “You don’t usually drink that much, I take it?”

“No,” you say emphatically. “I swear, I don’t know how this happened – I don’t think I drank more than I usually do. It’s like one minute I was totally fine, the next I was blacking out…”

Yoongi falls quiet again. This time his silence puts a nervous, fluttery feeling in your stomach as he watches you with an unreadable expression.

“You said you got dizzy all of a sudden at the club, right?”

“Yeah.”

“…Was that before or after that guy bought you a drink?”

A wave of nausea washes over you. You know where he’s going with this – it’s exactly where you’ve been trying to avoid going all night, staying busy enough to fend off the scarier thoughts. You straighten up to press both palms on the counter and lean your weight against it, avoiding his gaze.

“Look, whatever happened…I know it’s my fault – “

“Hey – that’s not what I’m saying – ”

“I let him buy me a drink. He didn’t force it on me. I should have been more careful – I looked away, I think, just for a second, but still – I was being so stupid – “

“Y/N-ah,” Yoongi interjects, his voice low and firm. “Stop.”

You let out a shaky exhale, heart pounding beneath your breastbone as he crosses the small kitchen. Yoongi’s car keys are on the counter in front of you; he threads one arm under yours to reach for them, pausing so he’s stood close behind you – close enough that you can feel warmth radiating off his body.

“Shit happens. But you’re safe. You didn’t do anything wrong…and I’m glad you called me.”

“…You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he presses. “I’m glad I was still awake – I wouldn’t be able to handle it if anything…”

He trails off. In the quiet, you feel the full weight of the if – all the guilt, relief and dread that comes along with it. You feel embarrassed suddenly, cheeks burning with the knowledge of how much worry you might have caused and again you expect Yoongi to start scolding you.

But instead he lets out a heavy breath, shuffling closer behind you to drop his forehead gently on to your shoulder.

“Just…don’t scare me like that again, princess,” Yoongi says softly, voice hushed. His head is a warm weight where he nudges it against you, insistent. “Please.”

You want to apologize – to tell him he has nothing to worry about – but the words won’t come. Instead, your hand drifts to where his rests against the counter; you fall short of touching him, hesitating at the last moment – until Yoongi hooks his little finger around your thumb. It’s a tiny movement, but enough to still you both for a few long moments.

Eventually Yoongi takes his keys and quietly parts from you, rubbing at the back of his neck as he slowly makes his way toward the front door. You watch as he shrugs on his hoodie and reaches for his backpack from the couch.

“Yoongs…?”

“Mm.”

He turns to face you, a question in his eyes as he waits to hear what you have to say.

“I really don’t want to ask this, but – I’m afraid it’ll keep me up all night if I don’t…”

“What?”

“Did you…ugh, this is awkward, I’m sorry – “

“Just spit it out,” he drawls impatiently.

“Well – I woke up…in your clothes,” you start slowly. “Please tell me you didn’t have to, like…dress me?”

The tips of Yoongi’s ears turn bright pink and he coughs.

“N-no – nope,” he stutters, fumbling for the door handle. “You did that all on your own.”

You sigh in relief. “Thank God. I’ll wash your stuff and get it back to you, I promise!”

Yoongi hurriedly waves a hand at you over his shoulder, slipping out the front door and into the hallway without another word.

Chapter Text

The main lobby of the BigHit building is nearly empty when you arrive at work. It’s Tuesday, and even though you’re exhausted you decided to come in early for some quiet time ahead of your schedule with TXT. Dressed in leggings and a warm sweater, you make your way to the elevators and punch the button for the fourth floor.

It’s been a busy couple of weeks. You’ve been swamped with requests from the production team, which put a damper on your availability for any side projects you’ve been working on. And in addition to your usual schedule with TXT, you’ve been managing a bit of a crisis as the group nears some important deadlines. Beomgyu is starting to worry that he won’t debut with the other members; you’ve been putting in extra hours to help him prepare and to help ease his anxiety.

Last weekend you met up with Songhee for drinks and gave her a barebones version of what happened in Itaewon. Though you left out some details – like the extent of your blackout, and the bit about Yoongi coming over to your apartment the next night – you could tell that Songhee was reading between the lines.

“You could have called me,” she said, eyes fixed on the cocktail in front of her.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you replied, feeling guilty. “I guess I just called the last person who texted me.”

Songhee paused. “…I think you wanted to call him.”

You bit your lip, eyes casting around the bar as you bided your time before answering. Songhee hadn’t actually asked anything but there were so many questions on your mind that it took a minute to sort out your thoughts. You took a long sip of your drink.

“Yeah, I think so,” you murmured. “I can’t really explain why, but…”

She raised an eyebrow in a skeptical arch. “Really? You can’t?”

Your cheeks heated up.

“I don’t know, Songhee…”

“You talk about him a lot,” she said evenly, without judgment. “At least, more often than I’d expect given that everything involving the pride of South Korea is so top secret…”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop…we work together, and I like telling you about my work.”

Songhee gazed at you intently, her dark eyes scanning your face. “Do you think about him a lot?”

You didn’t have an answer for her – which was all she needed for confirmation.

You couldn’t lie to your friend and you certainly can’t lie to yourself: you have been thinking about Yoongi a lot. You haven’t seen him since he came to pick up his car and you haven’t had time to exchange more than a few texts each day. He mentioned that he’s working on a project he wants to show you soon, and you told him about your struggles with TXT – but that’s about it. You’re surprised at the way his absence has been eating away at you, leaving you feeling restless in moments.

The production wing is quiet when you step off the elevator. Pulling your thermos out of your workbag, you make your way down the hall for a pitstop before you hole yourself up in one of the studios. When you reach the lounge, you’re surprised to see another person there.

A dark-haired man stands at the refrigerator with his back to you. You open your mouth to greet him – but before you can speak, he turns and the breath rushes from your lungs in a silent huff.

“Looking for coffee?”

Yoongi quietly shuts the freezer door, a tray of ice cubes in his hand as he shuffles over to the island in the middle of the room. He’s dressed in a loose white button-down; a tousled black fringe frames the angles of his face, his hair parted to reveal a swath of his forehead and brow. Yoongi’s eyes scan your face and his lips form a tiny smirk at the stunned expression he finds there.

“You dyed your hair,” you say dumbly.

He laughs a little at that, reaching for the French press that sits on the counter behind him. “Don’t look so surprised. You know I’m an idol, right?”

You cross the few steps between you to stand at his side. Without thinking, you reach up and gently weave a hand into the longer layer of hair just above the nape of his neck.

“I guess I forgot,” you reply quietly, rubbing a few soft strands between your fingers. “I’ll have to get used to this.”

Yoongi’s eyes crease and his smile turns soft, shy; he reaches behind his head, fingertips grazing yours for a moment before you withdraw your hand. A flutter of warmth blooms in your stomach.

“What are you doing here so early?”

He takes your thermos, lifting the French press to fill it halfway with coffee. “I figured you’d be around. Had to make sure you’re properly caffeinated.”

A slow smile spreads over your face. “Is that so?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer right away. He cracks the tray of ice and starts dropping cubes into your thermos, meeting your eye briefly before starting to fill his own cup.

“We’re at a shoot today and I’m leaving for a press tour at the end of the week,” he says evenly. “I wanted to see you before I go…see how you’re doing after the other weekend.”

“I’m fine,” you assure him, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “All systems fully functional.”

“Really?” he continues. “Not planning any late-night jogs around Gangnam, are you? I won’t be around to pick you up if you get lost…”

You laugh. “Yoongi-yah…are you feeling a little protective?”

He screws the top back on your thermos and slides it over to you, dark eyes locking with yours as he speaks again.

“Yes.”

The warmth in your stomach flares up like glowing coals, spreading all the way down to your fingertips. A shiver travels up your spine as he looks at you and you have to clear your throat before speaking again.

“I’ll be safe, I swear. How long are you gone for?”

“Two weeks,” he answers as he moves to fill the ice tray at the sink. “But I’ll see you Thursday, right?”

“Thursday?”

Yoongi’s arm brushes yours on his way to the freezer. He slides the tray of water in and turns to face you as he closes the door.

“Bang PD-nim’s birthday. The company rented out a space and planned a whole event for him.”

“Oh – shit, it’s not black-tie, is it?” you ask, grimacing.

“If I say no, does that mean you’ll be there?”

You slide your thermos back into your workbag and lean a hip against the island. “Are you for sure going?”

Yoongi settles himself so he’s facing you square-on. “Yes. All of the members are.”

“What time does it go until?”

“As late as it needs to. Do you have something else going on?”

“I have dinner plans with friends that night…but I could come afterward.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll text you when I’m leaving the restaurant.”

Yoongi nods in a satisfied way – a moment later, his face splits into a coy grin.

“What?”

“Are we making plans to hang out?”

You blink at him. “Huh. Yeah, I guess we are – is that weird?”

“No,” he says, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. He licks his lips. “I just didn’t realize we had enough history to do that.”

Yoongi’s phrasing brings you back to that night at the museum fundraiser: drinking whiskey in the gallery, trading stories like peace-offerings. You remember the first time he said your name – and the first time his fingers touched your skin. So much has happened since that night, you think. Your eyes drift to linger on the shape of his mouth and a few moments pass before you realize you’re staring.

“I should go,” you murmur.

He nods again, watching as you slowly move toward the door. “See you Thursday?”

“See you Thursday.”

Chapter Text

Y/N [10:05]: hey

Y/N [10:28]: HEY

Y/N [10:29]: HEY HEY HEY HEY !!!

MYG [10:29]: wrong number

MYG [10:42]: …..

MYG [10:42]: nothing? i was just kidding

MYG [10:51]: hey

MYG [10:51]: when are you getting here?

You slide your phone underneath the table to let it rest against your thigh, turning back to the flow of conversation with a somewhat smug look on your face. Yoongi can wait, you think.

Thursday night dinner ran long and you’re stuck watching two of your friends – both hot-headed painters you met through Songhee – argue while the group waits for the bill. The restaurant is still full and the two men have raised their voices to be heard over the din of the other tables.

“The whole exhibit was so flat and obvious,” Roshi contends, voice laden with disdain. “I don’t see the point in devoting that kind of creative energy into presenting such an unoriginal symbol. It’s not even adolescent, it’s childish – “

“What?!” Kijung squawks, slamming both tattooed fists down on the tabletop. “Dude, have you seen Totoro??”

“It’s cutesy.”

“It’s life-changing!!”

Songhee, seated at your right, lets out a long sigh. You glance over to see her eyes rolling toward the ceiling.

“Visual artists,” she mutters, shaking her head. “So dramatic...”

You snort, leaning in to bump your shoulder against hers as the two men continuing going in at one another. The others in your party look either mortified or just as amused as you are by the spectacle at your table. Your phone buzzes in your lap and you look down to check it again.

MYG [11:08]: princess…….come on, please

You press your lips together. Yoongi follows his message with a sad-face emoji and then your fingers are flying over the screen to type out a reply.

Y/N [11:08]: sorry, was busy. can i help you with something?

MYG [11:08]: there you are

MYG [11:09]: knew it

MYG [11:09]: just had to use the right title

You bite the inside of your cheek.

Y/N [11:10]: maybe

MYG [11:10]: you like when i call you that

You can’t tell if it’s a statement or a question – but either way, it has you flushing.

Y/N [11:11]: get lost weirdo. you’re so annoying.

MYG [11:12]: i’m so glad we can talk like this with each other

MYG [11:12]: is your dinner thing still going? there are seven men here waiting to see you

You glance around the table. Roshi is still harping on with his side of the argument; Kijung has gotten out of his chair and is lifting up his shirt to display a huge Ghibli Catbus that’s inked across his ribs.

Y/N [11:14]: hmmm. there are men here too..

MYG [11:14]: i’m waiting to see you.

Ugh. That does it. A stupid, tiny smile forms on your lips. Songhee eyes you as you reach for your glass and drain the last inch of your cocktail.

“Heading out?”

You nod, shifting your legs to the side of your chair before standing up from the table. “Yeah. I gotta go…can you cover me on the bill and I’ll pay you back?”

“Of course, sweetness,” Songhee replies. She raises an eyebrow and scans your outfit: a white, form-fitting minidress. “Say hello to PD-nim for me.”

You roll your eyes. She doesn’t mean Bang PD-nim, you’re certain. You grab your coat and kiss her on the cheek before making for the exit.

Before long you’re tucked in the back of a car, headed across the city for the venue where Sihyuk’s party is going down. Your eyes are glued to your phone as the driver maneuvers steadily through the busy streets.

Y/N [11:35]: is there a cover charge

MYG [11:36]: no, just give your name to the people out front

MYG [11:36]: you’re not blacked out, are you?

You scoff.

Y/N [11:37]: omg would you let it go!!!

Y/N [11:37]: i regret calling you that night

MYG [11:38]: no you don’t

MYG [11:38]: i just want to know what to expect

Y/N [11:40]: i’m fine. are YOU fine?

He doesn’t reply for a while. You gaze out the window, watching the Seoul nightlife roll by as you get closer to your destination. His text pops up when you come to a halt at a stoplight.

MYG [11:46]: i am drunk

MYG [11:46]: and i want you to be here

Anticipation hums in your veins, adding to the pleasant buzz you’ve built up over the night. You want to be there with him. You want to tell him that – but there’s no way you’re going to.

Y/N [11:48]: patience is a virtue

Y/N [11:48]: order me a drink

Twenty minutes later, you arrive at a modern-looking highrise somewhere downtown. It looks like it could be a hotel, or some kind of swanky office building; there’s a restaurant and bar on the bottom floor but the hostess at the front leads you past two men in dark suits toward a bank of elevators. She waves a keycard across a pad and presses a button at the top of the panel inside the lift. The woman rides up with you, past countless floors until the elevator car finally comes to a stop. The doors slide open and you realize you’re on the rooftop of the building.

It’s huge, packed with people and trimmed with string lights that give most of the space a soft glow. There are two long bars on either side; beyond them, you see the lights of Seoul stretched out before you. The view is both dizzying and beautiful.

It’s chilly up here, but you spot outdoor heaters dotting the rooftop and decide to check your coat by the elevator. The roof is humming with the rhythmic thud of music and the clamor of happy conversation. You pause for a moment to swipe on an extra layer of lipstick and shake out your hair, scanning the space for any sign of the members. You spot Jin and Namjoon by the bar to the right, looking tall and handsome as hell among the other guests around them.

It’s easy to weave your way through the crowd despite the number of people here. As you near the members, butterflies fill your stomach and suddenly you wish you’d thought to take an extra shot or two back at the restaurant. You still feel giddy and light but your buzz is dulled slightly by the nerves that simmer to life as you reach the bar.

“Y/N-ah!!”

Hoseok spots you first. He slips out from the knot of members by the bar, already reaching out a delicate hand as he moves his lithe form in your direction. The sight of him is shocking, as usual: decked out in layers of trim black, his legs look a thousand miles long and you feel pinned to the spot when he turns his blinding smile on you. He’s also dyed his hair since you last saw him – now it’s an ashy shade of light brown, looking almost silver in some spots.

“What took you so long, angel?”

Hoseok takes your fingers in his and gives you a quick spin – a move which would normally mortify you, but he’s just so damn smooth about it that you can’t do anything but giggle like an idiot. You feel instantly at ease, awash in Hoseok’s big-hearted glow as he sets his hands on your shoulders and pushes you toward the others. They seem to all recognize you at once, bursting into a rowdy chorus of welcomes and cheers which you meet with a happy yell of your own.

You start to make some friendly hellos with the members; as always, the maknaes jostle for position and you have to steel yourself when Jungkook swoops in for a brief hug. He looks like eight feet of nothing but muscle and big brown eyes, dressed in a navy button-down and fitted black jeans. His usually fluffy, unkempt hair is styled back from his face in smooth waves and you wonder – not for the first time – if he’s truly a normal human being or some kind of glorious lab experiment. Jimin pops up next, pulling you further into the cluster of men to give his greeting – which is cut short when a hand materializes on his upper arm and draws his attention away from you.

Yoongi’s face appears over Jimin’s shoulder. He firmly pushes the younger man out of the way, causing the others to laugh as Jimin’s eyes go wide.

“Let the woman get a drink, dongsaeng.”

The men laugh harder – including Jimin, who flushes but complies nonetheless. You ignore their reactions, automatically drawn forward by Yoongi’s steady gaze; he makes a space between his body and Jimin’s and you slip through to stand beside him at the bar.

He’s dressed in dark clothes, like the others: charcoal-grey suit, black shirt and heeled boots; you find silver glinting at his fingers, ears and throat. The look suits his newly darkened hair, you think – and if you didn’t know him better, you might find his appearance somewhat intimidating. But by now you’ve learned to spot the softer details: the pale glow of his skin; the rounded tip of his nose; the slope of his eyes…all things that endear him to you now as you indulge in a brief study of his face.

Yoongi slides a Manhattan over to you and you thank him before taking a long sip. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot his gaze sweeping over your bare shoulders and down to where the back of your dress cuts low to reveal a generous length of your spine. Goosebumps prickle up your arms as you watch his face. You shift on your feet and arch your back slightly – feeling deeply smug when you catch Yoongi’s eyes lingering on the curve of your ass. You clear your throat.

“So...”

Yoongi looks up at the sound of your voice, eyes a little wider than usual. You gesture toward the glass in front of you.

“…You ordered bourbon for me.”

A look of relief spreads across his features – quickly replaced by his typically cool, impassive expression. He nods once, shrugs a shoulder in an almost flippant way. You tilt your head at him, a dimple forming in one cheek as you fight the urge to tease him.

“Which means you remembered what I like…”

You watch as Yoongi seems to flip through a series of reactions in a matter of seconds. His ears turn a soft shade of pink, eyes crinkling at the corners as a tiny, gummy smile opens up on his face for a split second. He tosses his head to move the fringe from in front of his eyes before twisting his mouth into a something closer to a smirk. He takes a sip from his own tumbler.

“I hope so,” he says, voice even as he meets your eye. “You talk a lot and I occasionally listen to what you have to say.”

You can’t stop yourself from grinning. “So what have I missed so far tonight?”

“Mm…not much. A few people made speeches, Namjoon-ah dropped a whole bottle of champagne and got glass all over the place…I’ve mostly been hiding over here with Jungkook-ah.”

“Waiting for me?”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Trying to avoid the crowd. How was your dinner?”

“Loud,” you say drily, without any elaboration. “And long. But fun.”

“Where did you go?”

“This little place in Hongdae. Nothing fancy.”

He nods, eyes lingering on your face as you take another sip of your Manhattan. After a moment he glances around at the other members and then leans in toward you, causing your heart to leap into your throat.

“I like this dress,” he murmurs, hovering just a few inches from your ear.

Heat blossoms in your belly, glowing to life like hot embers as Yoongi’s fingers brush your hip. You angle yourself toward him and realize just how close he is as you pick up the smoky scent of scotch. He’s smiling at you. You wonder if his mouth would taste like scotch, too – a silent question that deepens the flush on your skin even as you chase it from your mind. Maybe your buzz isn’t gone after all…

“Thank you. I think I missed the all-dark-everything memo, though.”

Yoongi laughs. If he’s actually drunk, he’s hiding it well – he’s composed but a little softer, an easiness in his voice when he speaks.

“White suits you.”

“I know,” you reply quickly, giving him a sweet smile. You bat your eyelashes once. “Hobi-yah already called me an angel.”

One of his eyebrows lifts slightly. “Did he?”

“Mhm,” you hum and toss back the last of your drink. “Why – are you jealous?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer. You can see him restraining a smile, lips pressed into a thin line as he shakes his head and leans over the bar.

“I’m ordering shots.”

You edge closer into his personal space. “How come you never call me an angel?”

Yoongi ignores you while placing an order with the bartender. You sigh loudly.

“Princess is nice, but…it doesn’t quite have the same ring to it…”

He raises both eyebrows at you now, pinning you with a withering look.

“Or maybe it’s the way Hobi says it,” you muse, tapping a finger against your chin thoughtfully.

“Y/N-ah...”

The bartender returns at that moment, setting two shot glasses on the bar by Yoongi’s elbow. You reach for one and bring it to your lips. As you tilt your head back, Yoongi moves to whisper right into your ear.

“…are you just saying this because he’s your bias?”

You splutter, nearly spraying your entire shot out as you choke back a gasp. Or maybe a scream. The liquor goes down like a fireball and your face burns bright pink as you slam the glass back down on the bar. Yoongi just looks on with a satisfied expression on his face.

“He told me right after the fundraiser,” he says evenly, turning to swallow back his own shot.

You cough, pounding a palm against your sternum as you scramble to form a defense.

“He – I – that isn’t – “

“I get it. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he adds, not even looking at you as he stacks your shot glasses and slides them across the bar. “But at some point you’ll have to make a choice…”

You go to reach for a bar napkin but find yourself hesitating when Yoongi meets your eyes again. His face is solemn, gaze steady. He pauses to crook a finger and gently touches it beneath your chin.

“Which do you want, hm?”

You blink at him, swaying slightly on the spot. His thumb comes up to gently swipe at a stray droplet of liquor just below the fullest part of your bottom lip.

“…angel or princess?”

Your lips part but all that comes out is a soft breath. Yoongi drops his hand and slips it into the pocket of his trousers. Something hangs in the air between you, heady and almost palpable – broken only by the sudden and very untimely appearance of Hoseok at your side.

“Come with me,” he clips giddily, a massive grin on his face as he grabs both of your wrists. “Do you like this song??”

You squint, confused and trying to listen to whatever’s playing right now – but it’s useless. Hoseok’s dragging you away from the bar before you can string together even two words of protest. You glance back at Yoongi as you’re being steered toward the dancefloor – but you can’t make out the look on his face.

The music is much, much louder toward the far end of the rooftop. Hoseok pulls you along until you’re deep in the crowd and as you come to a halt you realize you do like this song: a hip-hop track with bass heavy enough to feel it in your bones. Hoseok starts moving to the beat and a laugh bubbles up from your chest as you follow him.

You find it surprisingly easy to forget your very recent mortification. Hoseok’s natural charm – combined with the effect of your last two drinks – helps you relax right away. Taehyung materializes within minutes and it becomes hard to juggle dancing with how much you want to laugh at their antics. Both men move with a loose, almost languid ease – they manage to look graceful and goofy at the same time and it’s glorious to watch.

The three of you form a somewhat ridiculous little posse on the dancefloor. You play off their spontaneity, hanging off of Taehyung for a song or two until Hoseok cuts in and takes the lead. They’re such good dancers that they make you look smoother, more light-footed than you really are. After a while, you’ve worked up a decent sweat and you reach for Hoseok to holler in his ear.

“I need another drink!”

He nods, head swiveling around as he looks for a way out of the crowd. As the two of you start to weave between the other guests, Hoseok reaches behind him to offer you his hand; instead of taking it, you grab the hem of his jacket and give it two quick tugs. You see him flash a smile at you over his shoulder before he turns back to steadily lead you out of the throng.

Your heart sinks when you emerge into a corridor of open space and see that the nearest bar is packed – everyone’s lined up at least three-deep and the bartenders look slammed. Hoseok comes to an abrupt halt and you bump into his shoulder blades.

“What the – “

You’re cut off when he lets out a sharp whistle – hailing down a waiter who’s passing by with a tray of highball glasses. The waiter stops, alarmed by the sound and presumably frozen in place by the sight of the beaming idol in front of him.

“S-signature cocktail, sir?” he stammers, holding out the tray.

Hoseok takes two and passes you a glass. The waiter moves to leave, but Hoseok holds up a single, delicate finger and the man freezes again. You look down at the drink in your hand.

“What is this?”

“No idea,” Hoseok shrugs, pulling an orange slice, two cherries, a purple flower, and a tiny paper umbrella from his glass and dropping them on the tray. “Sihyuk-ssi’s favorite, I guess.”

It’s pink and fruity – whatever it is, it’s down your throat in three seconds flat once you follow Hoseok’s lead and discard the garnishes. He watches you in amusement as you hand your empty glass to the waiter.

“Impressive.”

You grin sheepishly, already enjoying the burn of alcohol in your stomach. “I have to keep drinking if I’m gonna keep up with you…wanna get back out there?”

Hoseok sips at his cocktail, glancing over your shoulder briefly. His eyes seem to settle on something and a smile pulls at his lips. He leans in to speak over the noise of the party.

“Only if that’s what you really want,” he says. There’s a curious tone to his voice.

You furrow your brow. “What? What do you mean? I – “

Hoseok points with his chin, directing you follow his gaze where it lingers on the crowd behind you. You turn, confused until you see Yoongi emerging from behind a passing cluster of guests. He’s several yards away, looking like he’s purposely loitering at a distance as he watches you and Hoseok. You’re sure he sees you but he doesn’t react – just looks back a little warily, one hand in his pocket as he rubs at his sideburn with the other.

You go. You don’t say anything to Hoseok – honestly it doesn’t even cross your mind to do so – you just take off. There’s liquor in your veins and something like urgency in your stride as Yoongi’s dark eyes draw you in.

You cover the space between you in a few long strides and immediately take Yoongi’s hand when he reaches for you. Your fingers tangle with his as your other hand winnows into the warm space beneath his bicep, impatient to get as close to him as possible as he slips back into the crush of guests. You should keep your cool until he’s lead you deeper in the crowd, but you can’t; this stretch of the rooftop is dimmer than the rest and you don’t really care who’s around to see as you wrap both arms around Yoongi’s neck and pull yourself against him.

He's warm, solid in contrast to the cool night air and the jostle of bodies around you. The dancefloor is heaving to the rhythm of a lively R&B track that’s pumping out from the speakers around the party. Yoongi’s hands rest just above your hips and he gently guides you into swaying with the music. You’re not moving much but already you can feel your heartbeat against your ribcage – amplified, perhaps, by the thudding bass that fills your ears.

You feel Yoongi’s head nudge against yours as he dips his face to speak into your ear.

“Is this OK?”

It’s too loud to answer and you don’t have the words, anyway. You graze your fingertips across the short undercut at the nape of his neck, holding him and angling your face so your forehead is pressed to his.

His mouth is so close and you think if you were alone you’d kiss the answer into him – long enough to finally memorize the pretty shape of his lips. Hard enough to erase any doubt. Deep enough to convey a shred of whatever it is you’re feeling right now.

But you can’t do that. Instead, you press your hips tighter to his and slide one hand down to clutch at the fabric of his jacket, holding him even closer. You feel Yoongi respond; his hands squeeze your waist as he slots one thigh between yours and deepens the movement of his hips. Heat licks its way up from the pit of your stomach and the new pressure leaves you feeling both dazed and hungry for more.

You probably shouldn’t be doing this. You should probably be concerned about who might see and what they might think. It’s a company event and as a rule, no one here would dare violate an NDA by compromising an artist’s privacy –  but still…you probably shouldn’t be doing this.

None of those thoughts matter, though. They fade away, quickly as they came, as you lean into the throb of the music. Everything turns sweeter, slower as you let yourself get drunk off the liquor in your system and the feel of Yoongi’s hands.

Time slips by like this. If anyone comes looking for you two, you don’t notice. You barely register when the song changes or when you’re bumped by an elbow or shoulder of someone moving near you in the crowd. You’re content to forget about everything except the solidness of Yoongi’s body, the gentle grind of his hips on yours.

Your senses are flooded with his scent, his warmth – at times you can hear his breath rush against your ear but still you want more. Want to wrap yourself in him. Your arms ache with the effort it takes to hold yourself as close as you can to him – but it’s never close enough.

Yoongi’s hands eventually leave your waist and mold to the curve of your spine; his touch rests hot against the skin of your exposed back and you feel ready to burst into flames. Your fingers brush against the back of his neck again, struggling for purchase as they find his skin slick with sweat. The music pounds on and Yoongi drops one hand to cup your thigh, his hold gentle but strong enough to keep you in sync with his movements. You automatically start to rock your hips against his; in this position, the motion brings his tensed thigh dangerously close to the parts of you hidden beneath the hem of your short dress.

His leg makes contact with the fabric of your panties – just for a fleeting moment – and a bolt of electricity jags through your core. You tip your head back briefly, letting out a small, desperate sound that gets swallowed up by the noise around you. When you bring your chin back level with the floor you catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s face: eyes heavy-lidded and flat black, lips parted as he drinks you in. He sees you looking; there’s nowhere to hide from the hunger in his expression or the way he grips your body even tighter to his –

But then the volume of the music starts to fade, and a muffled tap-tap on a microphone booms out across the party.

You look around, surprised but still surfacing from the moment you were just having. You can feel your pulse thudding at the hollow of your throat and suddenly your breathing sounds too loud, even over the lingering noise of the crowd around you. You spot a woman standing by the DJ booth with a big smile on her face; she’s speaking into a handheld mic but you can barely make out what she’s saying.

“…want to thank you all for coming…thank Sihyuk-ssi for all the hard work he has put in this year!”

There’s a smattering of applause and she continues her remarks. You take a second to look to Yoongi, whose dark eyes now seem a little unfocused. He glances at the cluster of people around you – apparently noticing his surroundings for the first time, too – but soon his eyes lock back on yours.

He’s panting but he gives you a small, tired smile that makes your heart flip. His hands are still on you though he’s pulled you both upright by now; you force yourself to take a step back, tugging on the hem of your dress as you totter on your heels to face the speaker along with the rest of the crowd.

“…all wishing you another year of good health and good things for BigHit…hope everyone enjoyed – “

“Noona.”

A familiar voice draws your attention and you spot Yeonjun’s tall form emerging from the throng to your right, clad in all black from head to toe.

“Hey!” you greet him, genuinely taken off guard by his appearance. “Junnie – “

He steps forward and wraps you in a hug, long arms encircling your waist tight enough for your heels to lift off the floor a couple of inches. You stutter on whatever you were about to say and wait for him to release you after a few noticeably long beats.

“Ah – I d-didn’t know you were here,” you say breathlessly.

“I could say the same for you.”

Yeonjun’s eyes linger on your face for a moment before flicking over your shoulder. Yoongi’s arm brushes yours as he reaches out a hand to the younger man, who accepts it and dips his head in a respectful gesture.

“Sunbae-nim,” he intones – and then turns his gaze back to you. “Did you just get here?”

You shake your head. “No, I’ve been…around.”

Yeonjun tilts his head to the side, curious. “And what have you been up to?”

“Um – n-nothing crazy,” you say lightly, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “Party…stuff.”

Yoongi gives a muffled snort. You snake a hand behind you, keeping your movement hidden from Yeonjun as you grab for Yoongi’s fingers to squeeze them and shut him up.

“Party stuff?” Yeonjun smirks. His eyes drift to the sheen of sweat on your collarbones.

“Yeah, you know – drinking, dancing, that kind of thing…”

Yoongi squeezes in return and you pull at his hand, bringing it to rest – tangled with yours – against your lower back.

“Are you having a good time?”

Yoongi strokes a knuckle across your palm – soft, deliberate, questioning. You hope Yeonjun can’t see you blush in the dim lighting.

“Definitely,” you answer, loud enough to be overheard. You give Yeonjun a friendly smile. “I hope you are too.”

He nods once, almost thoughtfully, catlike eyes still roving over your face. “I am now.”

Yeonjun slinks closer – close enough that he’s almost looming over you. Yoongi’s fingers tighten incrementally around yours as the younger man pauses before speaking again.

“You look really beautiful, noona.”

You rub your thumb across the back of Yoongi’s hand, keenly aware of the way he’s tensed up behind you. You fight the growing heat in your cheeks and clear your throat.

“Yeonjun-ah,” you say, gentle caution in your tone. “That’s sweet of you to say…”

You hoped to brush him off, but Yeonjun is too cocky to be swayed so easily. He smiles at you, totally unphased by your response nor the older man stood behind your shoulder.

“Do you want to get a drink with me?”

Jesus. There really is no end to this dude’s confidence, you think.

“I think you should go check on your members,” you answer firmly. “Make sure they’re not getting into any trouble.”

He sighs. “I thought you’d say something like that…”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “But you asked anyway.”

Yeonjun shrugs. “Had to. Sure I can’t buy you a drink?”

“It’s an open bar...”

He laughs at that. Yeonjun rakes a hand through his cotton-candy-pink hair, taking a step back and finally giving you some room to breathe.

“Alright,” he says, turning to go. He casts a vaguely wistful glance at you from over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow, then.”

You watch him disappear back into the crowd. The music has started up again, but it’s quieter than before – you guess the party is close to winding down. You let out a long exhale and turn to Yoongi.

“What??”

He’s got his teeth set into his bottom lip and he bursts out laughing when you start to scold him.

“Yoongi-yah – don’t!!”

It doesn’t help. Yoongi’s shoulders move with the labor of his laughter and his gums and teeth are on full display. It’s cute as hell, you think, but also kind of makes you want to strangle him.

“That kid has it bad,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Damn, Y/N-ah – “

“Please shut up.”

“– you’re a heartbreaker. Did you see the look he gave you??”

You slap at his chest, pressing your lips together as you try your hardest to give him a stern look. Yoongi grabs your wrist and blocks you from landing another swat, silenced momentarily by another fit of giggles.

“I’m sorry – I’m sorry, it needed to be said,” he pants.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know.” Yoongi presses against your lower back with the fingertips of one hand, starting to steer you toward the nearest bar. “Come on – let’s get another drink before we all get booted out for the night.”

You find most of the members where you left them. Namjoon and Jin already left to go back to the dorms but the others are still chatting noisily by the bar, pleasantly drunk by this point and looking a little rumpled around the edges. Jungkook has three of the buttons on his shirt undone and a toothy grin appears plastered permanently on his face; Hoseok’s cheeks are pink and he looks close to falling asleep where he leans propped up between Jimin and Taehyung. You have no idea how he went from bouncing off the walls to being barely conscious but it strikes you as very endearing.

“Did you have fun?” Jimin asks, a cheeky grin spreading over his features as he sees you and Yoongi approaching. “Was oppa nice to you?”

Jungkook giggles, a bar straw hanging limply from between his lips where he chews on it. You tug it from his mouth and point it at Jimin in a threatening manner but say nothing. Jimin finds this hysterical.

“Noona is a good dancer,” Taehyung says, sounding very serious as he nods in a satisfied way. His jaw bumps against Hoseok’s head, which is leaned on the younger man’s shoulder.

“Hyung, do you think Y/N-ssi is a good dancer?” Jimin asks the question loud enough for you to hear as he leans over to leer at Yoongi.

“Mm,” Yoongi grunts, pushing past the maknaes to get to the bar. You can tell he’s had years of experience ignoring their harassment.

“Hyung is a good dancer, too, actually,” Taehyung continues, furrowing his brow in reflection. “Surprisingly good with his hips.”

You flush, body going hot for multiple reasons while Jungkook starts honking out a loud laugh. He pushes off from the bar, bringing his face close to yours as he pinches either of your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger.

“So cute,” he coos, his forehead bumping against yours. Jungkook’s nose scrunches up as he smiles. “Why are you all pink, noona?”

You start to whine and wrap your hands around Jungkook’s wrists to loosen his hold. Jimin and Taehyung laugh and join him in fussing over you briefly; Hoseok still appears dead to the world. Yoongi clicks his tongue loudly to chide them.

“Yah – give her some space,” he drawls.

You wriggle away from the maknaes’ teasing as Yoongi turns slightly and hands you a green bottle. You do a double-take, holding the label up close to your face before taking a sip. Yoongi eyes you skeptically as you smack your lips.

“I thought it was soju for a second,” you explain, waving the bottle in his direction.

“Just beer,” he says, sounding vaguely amused. “I think a bottle of soju would kill you right now.”

“Hey!” you cry. “I can h-handle my alcohol, thank you very much.”

You let out a loud, ill-timed hiccup. Yoongi smirks, but his expression quickly melts into something warmer as he reaches out a hand to you.

“I know you can. You’re just tiny, that’s all.”

You scowl at Yoongi as you tuck yourself beside him at the bar. “I am not. I’m a full-grown woman.”

“OK. Drink your beer, tiny full-grown woman.”

Yoongi’s command is gentle as he snakes his arm around your waist, drawing you in close and any further protest from you is silenced as you try to hide your smile. You’re mostly blocked from view of the party by Jungkook’s hulking form and you’re feeling very pleased by the way Yoongi’s arm fits snugly around you. You’re content to lean against him, leeching warmth from his body and sipping quietly from your beer.

Yoongi angles himself to address Taehyung, speaking to the younger man in a voice loud enough to be heard over the crowd as they chat back and forth around you. The deep timbre of Yoongi’s voice reaches you as vibrations: a gentle, lulling buzz where your shoulder makes contact with his ribcage. Your hand steals into the narrow space between his body and the bar, coming to lay against his chest and just out of sight of the other members.

Yoongi’s long fingers are wrapped around the glass tumbler he’s got sat on the bar top; you see them flex briefly, loosening their hold as he breaks eye contact with Taehyung to look at you instead. Taehyung keeps on talking loudly behind you, not missing a beat as Yoongi searches your face for a moment. Only a moment later he looks away, sliding easily back into the conversation and raising his glass for a long sip of whiskey.

You watch as Yoongi then abandons the drink on the bar and slips his hand over yours. For a moment you think he’s going to pull your hand away – maybe draw a boundary and defuse whatever you’d set out to achieve with this hidden touch – but instead he presses your fingers tighter to his chest. Tight enough to feel the steady thud of his heart against your palm.

The glowing, buzzed feeling you’ve been riding intensifies. He’s so close – you can see where his hair is damp with sweat at his temples; can smell the salty sheen on his skin mingling with his usual scent – and it’s all you can do you keep still under his touch. Your eyes drift over Yoongi’s face, his throat and you wonder what his sweat would taste like – and what it would take to find out…

“Can we please go home now??”

Hoseok’s whine breaks your trance, and you have just enough time to drain your beer before being jostled toward the exit. Jimin peels you away from Yoongi and starts chattering in your ear about coming back to the dorm; you can barely hear him over the ringing in your ears as you move further away from the music and the noise of the party. You get in line at coat check, feeling tipsy and suddenly desperate to go pee.

There’s a bit of a frenzy near the elevators and you lose track of the members as you’re buffeted forward by the throng of guests waiting for their coats. You spot Taehyung’s shaggy head above the crowd and figure you’ll catch up with them – or not, you think, wondering if it’s best that you slip away on your own for the night.

You retrieve your coat and steal into the bathroom for a few minutes before queuing up for the elevator. Packed into the lift with eight other company employees, you wonder how drunk you look and giggle at the thought.

As soon as you’re released into the lobby, you catch a glimpse of Jungkook folding Hoseok into a sleek black shuttle van just out front – too far away for you to make a dash and catch up, especially at risk of causing a scene. You sigh, watching the shuttle pull away from the valet circle as you weave your way toward the front doors and fumble in your coat pocket for your phone. The cool night air feels like heaven when you step outside; you’re about to open up your ride app when someone calls your name.

You look around, spotting a dark sedan a few yards away, idling by the curb. The passenger side window is rolled down and you spot Yoongi’s face peering out where he leans forward between the front seats to holler at you. He grins when you meet his eye.

“Get in, princess.”

This might be a bad idea, you realize – but your feet carry you to the car and you crawl inside without thinking too much about it. It’s just Yoongi inside; he scoots over to make room for you and hands you a water bottle as the car starts to move. You gulp it down gratefully, swaying slightly in your seat as you pull out into traffic.

“Are you headed back to the dorm?”

You shake your head, pausing to swallow and twist the cap back on the bottle. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know…are you going there?”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says quietly, pausing for a moment before speaking again. “Are you tired?”

You shrug. “Not really…”

Yoongi pulls out his phone briefly, checks the time. You watch as a curious expression creeps over his features, stomach flipping when he rests an arm along the back of the seat and leans over toward you.

“Wanna go to the studio?”

Twenty minutes later, Yoongi is fumbling with the keypad outside Genius Lab as you sway on your heels behind him. He swings the door open and the two of you stumble into the small room, tittering with laughter as Yoongi grabs your arm to stop you from tripping over the coffee table.

He makes a beeline for his chair – of course – hands darting here and there as he switches on his monitor and other various pieces of equipment. No matter how many times you witness it, you never tire of the way Yoongi comes to life when he gets in the studio. The look on his face is intoxicating and you can’t help but smile at the way he loses himself almost immediately.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” you pout, moving to stand level with Yoongi at the desk.

“Pull up a chair.”

“You don’t have any other chairs, idiot.”

Yoongi gives a wheezy, snickery laugh – the one he usually saves for when he’s feeling especially cocky. Usually it annoys the crap out of you; tonight, it annoys the crap out of you and also seems kind of sexy. Hm.

To avoid standing around in heels all night – and to punish Yoongi for being sexy – you push your way in front of him, angling your body carefully before perching yourself right on his lap. Yoongi grunts in a disapproving way, but it has no bite behind it. Instead of protesting further, he wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you back until you’re snug against his chest. You giggle at the way this leaves your feet dangling just off the floor.

“Are you gonna get on the mic?” you ask teasingly.

“What, am I going to rap?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

Yoongi lets out a huff of laughter. “Maybe I should – try recording a verse drunk. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Another production secret of the great Min Yoongi,” you grin. “A true innovator.”

“Mm. PD-nim doesn’t exactly love this particular technique, though,” he says contemplatively. “I can’t promise it would sound good either.”

“You always sound good.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond. After a moment of silence you twist around to look at him and immediately recognize the expression on his face: eyes cast down and off to the side, lips pressed together in an awkward half-smile. He reaches up a hand to touch his nose before tugging on one earlobe.

“You’re doing that thing,” you point out.

“What thing?”

“The thing you do when someone praises you. It’s cute, but…don’t. You know how good you are.”

You swear you spot a dusting of pink appear across his cheekbones, but Yoongi just clicks his tongue at you.

“Don’t say things like that, Y/N-ah,” he pouts – halfheartedly.

A smirk spreads across your face when he meets your eyes. He likes being complimented – you know it, and now he knows you know it. You move to turn back to the monitor and Yoongi takes the opportunity to squeeze the soft flesh above your hip with one strong hand, making you squirm and let out a bright peal of laughter. He chuckles in a quiet, satisfied way and scoots the chair forward to reach for the controls.

The two of you mess around on his equipment for a while: playing with different beats and samples, listening to some new tracks by other artists and critiquing the production. Eventually you let Yoongi take the reins, content to sit back as he fiddles with the controls and tells you about a DJ he’s been listening to. He goes quiet as he pulls up a particular track and adjusts the volume on the speakers.

Sound floods the studio and before long you can feel the beat in your bones. It stirs up the same blissful, hungry feeling that you’d been chasing at the party – the same heat you felt each time Yoongi put his hands on you. Now, in the dim hideaway of his studio, you’re suddenly greedy for more of it.

You lean slight back until your shoulder blades rest against Yoongi’s chest, molding your body to his as you give a tentative roll of your hips. One of his arms passes beneath yours to rest against the controls on the desk, and you feel it tense – but he doesn’t push you away.

You move your hips again, winding your ass back against Yoongi’s lap in a lazy circle while you gently set your hands against the edge of the desk. It’s hard to hear anything over the music but you feel a groan loosen in his chest, and a moment later he brings a hand to rest on your hipbone. He doesn’t make any motion to stop you – just lets his fingers splay against the silky fabric of your dress while you move under his touch.

Heat starts to thrum in your veins and you let your head fall back toward his shoulder, throat exposed as you turn your face to the ceiling. You can feel the feather-soft tickle of his hair against your cheek and it makes you smile. Yoongi’s hold on you tightens incrementally.

“Y/N-ah…”

He says your name like a warning – or a prayer, it’s hard to tell. His voice comes out low and hoarse and the sound sends goosebumps up your arms. You bring one hand down to brace against his thigh, feeling the firm muscle there as you keep circling your hips to the rhythm of the song. With one hand still against your hipbone, he lays his other across your belly as he pulls you back even tighter against him.

Desperate for his touch, you slide your hand over his to cover it before he can move it away. Yoongi’s nose presses close to the hair at the base of your skull and you feel his breath against your neck; you set your teeth in your bottom lip and follow his lead as he starts to guide the course of your hips with a firm hand. You’re almost panting at this point – you should be embarrassed, you think – but you’re too consumed in the moment to care.

Yoongi helps you grind out circles against his lap – each one less sweet, more sinful than the last. The throb of the music drives you on until you’re struck brainless at the first hint of a hard knot growing just below his belt. Your knees part a few inches, breath turning shallow as Yoongi stills your hips and slides his hand down to rest just below the hemline of your dress.

“Princess,” Yoongi says quietly. His thumb traces a single, soft circle on your thigh – a question. “What do you need?”

Everything. Anything. You need whatever he’s willing to give you, and you need it now. Here. You want to tell him – have to tell him, your body demands it –

But just as you wet your lips and open your mouth to speak, there’s a loud thump from just outside the studio door.

You’re up and off of Yoongi’s lap in a flash, with just enough time to smooth out your dress before the studio door flies open. Jungkook stumbles in, giggling, jacket hanging off of one shoulder and hair in a messy halo around his head. He fixes you with a pair of heavy-lidded eyes and hiccups.

“N-noona,” he grins, flopping down on the couch. “And Suga-hyung – I found you!!”

Yoongi reaches to lower the volume of the music, a tense look on his face as he turns away from Jungkook.

“Ah – Kook, we’re always in the studio,” you say, forcing a smile. “Where else did you think we’d be?”

There’s a loud pattering sound and two seconds later, Taehyung appears in the doorway – out of breath and looking equally disheveled as the other maknae. He flashes you a boxy grin and staggers over to hang a lanky arm across your shoulders.

“You left me and Jungkookie,” he coos in your ear, pouting dramatically. “We want to play, too – “

“Yeah!!” Jungkook exclaims, sitting straight up. “What are you guys doing?? Let’s record something!”

You glance at Yoongi. He’s still sitting, eyes darting between the two younger men as he tugs subtly at his pant leg. You press your lips together and swallow hard at the sight of his hips lifting slightly up from the chair to adjust the front of his dark trousers.

“You two should be back at the dorm,”  he says evenly. “Where’s the van?”

“Taking the others home,” Jungkook chirps.

“Do you have any snacks, hyung?” Taehyung adds, his eyes going round with question.

Yoongi clears his throat and gets to his feet. He nods his head in Jungkook’s direction and pulls his phone from his jacket pocket.

“There’s food in the lounge. Y/N-ah was just about to head home – I’m gonna put her in a car and then I’ll be back up. Don’t touch anything.”

The maknaes start to whine but you’re already being ushered out the door before they can form a real argument. Feeling oddly sobered, you walk in silence to the fourth floor lobby; Yoongi swipes at his phone – calling a ride for you, you assume – and follows when you step into an elevator.

The quiet is deafening once the doors slide shut. Yoongi punches the button for the garage; you lean against the railing and wrap your arms around your middle as he stands at the other side of the lift. Your heart is pounding in your ears and it’s all you can do to keep your eyes fixed on the floor in front of you. You’re frozen, unable to look at Yoongi and unsure of what might happen if you do.

As soon as the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open, you push off of the railing.

“I can wait by myself – you don’t have to stay…“

Before you make it even three steps out, Yoongi has his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. He tugs you back out of view of the camera that’s perched just above the elevator bank and takes both of your hands in his.

“Yoongi-yah – “

“Just – hold on,” he says, his touch warm against your skin. He swallows. “Y/N-ah, I…”

He pauses. Your breath catches as his eyes meet yours, lips still parted with whatever he’s about to say. The moment seems to stretch on forever. His eyes flick down to your throat, over your bare shoulders and arms.

“…I can’t send you home like that.”

You watch as Yoongi sheds his jacket and realize you left yours upstairs. You don’t protest; your pulse beats loudly in your ears as he brings the garment around your shoulders, holding it up so you can thread your arms into the sleeves. His forehead bumps gently against yours as he pulls the fabric close around your body.

“You’re leaving in the morning?” you whisper, words quiet in the small space between you.

Yoongi nods, still holding on to the lapels of the jacket as he answers. “Just for two weeks.”

The thought makes your stomach dip. It’s irrational, you know – but you’re drunk, and it’s late, and something inside of you is desperate to keep Yoongi close. You carefully lay your hands against his chest, feeling the smooth fabric of his dress shirt – and the firmness of his body below it.

“…And then you’ll come back?”

You hear Yoongi exhale softly. He sets his hands at your hips, palms warm through the fabric of your dress as he draws you even nearer. You lean your forehead against his collarbone and shiver when you feel his nose graze your hair.

“I always come back, princess,” he murmurs, breath tickling slightly where his lips form the words next to the shell of your ear. “Promise.”

You’re not sure what the promise means – or what you want it to mean – but it’s enough. Enough to quiet the thunder of your heartbeat and slow the rush of longing in your veins. The want is still there – you can feel it quicken as Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him – but it’s pliant. Manageable enough to let you relax against his body for a few hushed minutes until you hear the sound of a car approaching in the garage. Yoongi shifts and you feel his lips brush against your forehead, lingering for no more than a moment before he’s letting you go.

A black company car comes into view as Yoongi puts a few feet of space between your bodies. The sedan pulls up and the driver gets out, rounding the hood of the car to open the door for you. You tug Yoongi’s jacket tight around you and carefully slide into the backseat of the car. Yoongi exchanges a few words with the driver, who gives him a short bow and checks to make sure your legs are safely out of the way before closing the door behind you.

You lean forward to peer out at Yoongi. He’s stood back from the car, hands in his pockets as waits to see you off. The car windows are tinted but somehow it looks – feels – like Yoongi is gazing right back at you. You press the tips of your fingers against the glass, leaning even closer and Yoongi raises a hand just as the car starts to pull away. You watch him as long as you can, eyes trained on his shrinking form until the car turns a corner and he vanishes from view.

Chapter Text

Seoul seems quieter with Bangtan gone.

As usual, the group is accompanied by a horde of staff on their press trip to Japan. The halls of the BigHit building are somewhat deserted as a result, though the production wing is still fairly busy. You opt to work from home on days when you’re not scheduled to be with the TXT members, which proves to be a restful change from your typical schedule as of late.

It rains for days on end after Bangtan leaves. With the excitement of Sihyuk’s party behind you, you’re left in a strange kind of lull as you recoup from the drain of your recently busy social calendar. You’re content to sift through various projects for work – none of them especially pressing or demanding, and just enough to keep your mind busy during the day.

You spend your mornings wandering up and down the hallway of your small apartment – only leaving the warmth of your sheets to fetch a snack or another cup of coffee from the kitchen. You pass countless hours sitting cross-legged in your bed or at your desk, headphones on as you lean over your laptop and toy with a few guide tracks you’d been sent to work on. It’s relaxing to be at home, but at times it’s hard to stay focused and too often you find yourself staring out at the hazy stretch of cityscape beyond your bedroom window.

You don’t hear from Yoongi for as many days as Seoul’s streets are washed with rain. Normally this radio silence would drive you crazy but instead you find it almost soothing. You’d woken up the morning after the party feeling a little on edge – the image of Yoongi watching your car leave the garage was still fresh in your mind and you expected a slew of anxious days ahead of you. But to your surprise you find yourself feeling calm, somehow accepting of the natural pause that comes with being hundreds of miles apart.

On that first morning you had to retrieve your coat and phone from where you’d left them in Yoongi’s studio. Still dressed in the sweats you’d slept in, you let yourself into Genius Lab and felt oddly surprised to find the space empty. Your eyes drifted over the chair at Yoongi’s desk and the small mess of snack wrappers on the coffee table – presumably left by the two maknaes just hours before. You cleaned up a bit and took your belongings from the couch before creeping home in the rain.

You could have brought Yoongi’s jacket to his studio; however, you made a conscious decision to leave it at your apartment.  You kept it slung over the back of your chair and every so often – when your attention would drift from the laptop in front of you – you’d find your fingers ghosting over the silky, charcoal-grey material.

The days drift by easily. You work, spend time with Songhee, and go to a few of the pilates classes you haven’t had time for since leaving Starship; by the middle of the second week of Bangtan’s Japan circuit, you’re feeling more balanced and rested than you have in a long time.

It's Wednesday of the second week when your phone buzzes just as you’re stepping out of the shower. You wrap a towel around your middle, water still beaded over your arms and legs as you cross over to where your phone sits on the counter by the sink. Your chest tightens when you see Yoongi’s name on the screen. There are two texts waiting for you.

MYG [6:16]: i sent you something. can you check your email and let me know if you got it?

MYG [6:16]: but don’t open it yet

You rush from the bathroom, leaving wet footprints on the floor as you hurry to your laptop. You click your way into your BigHit email and see a message from Yoongi waiting in your inbox – with a sound file attached.

Y/N [6:18]: got it…when can i open it?

MYG [6:18]: tomorrow morning

You furrow your brow in confusion, waiting as three dots pop up on the screen to indicate that Yoongi has more to say.

MYG [6:20]: go to that coffee place at the top of the hill. up the street from bh. around 8. then you can listen to it.

You laugh quietly to yourself, thinking of how meticulous Yoongi is when he puts a playlist together – or when he does anything, for that matter. You figure there must be a reason behind his super specific directions.

Y/N [6:21]: i can do that

Y/N [6:21]: …you do realize this sounds a little nuts, right?

MYG [6:22]: 100%. sorry.

MYG [6:22]: we’re coming back early

Y/N [6:22]: !!!!!!

Y/N [6:22]: when? when when when????

MYG [6:24]: tonight. late, though.

MYG [6:25]: i wanted to call you and tell you. i just found out and we’re about to go on for our last interview.

He sends an angry face emoji and it makes you laugh out loud. You feel slightly giddy, and suddenly flooded with how much you’ve actually missed him. You take a pause before replying.

Y/N [6:27]: i can’t believe you’re coming back early

Y/N [6:29]: yoongs…. 

MYG [6:29]: i know, princess. i’ll be there really soon.

It’s 8:03 when you huff your way to the very top of the hill the next morning.

You woke to a crisp, shockingly clear day in Seoul. The fine dust rating is as low as it’s ever been and with the stretch of rain finally past, there’s little humidity in the air. It’s a good day for a walk and you might’ve hauled your ass up the hill for a coffee even if Yoongi hadn’t texted.

It's a decent café that he’s sent you to – some BigHit employees go there pretty often and you’re fairly partial to their entire espresso menu. There’s a small line when you arrive and you’re happy to wait as it gives you time to catch your breath.

There’s an elderly couple waiting in line in front of you. You watch as they approach the counter with small, careful steps. The woman is dressed in a soft, sky-blue cardigan, her hair pulled into a sleek loop at the base of her neck and secured with a wooden clip. Her hands are thin and frail looking; her spine is curved at her shoulders and you wonder if she trekked up the same hill to get here.

As the man fumbles in his trousers for his wallet, the woman bends to examine a glass case of pastries by the register. The barista behind the counter is clearly waiting for him to pay the bill – but the man is now looking at his wife with a fond expression.

She’s got her hands pressed to the glass of the case, totally unaware of how her husband is smiling at her. He places a knobby hand on her back and she startles a bit when he leans in to say something to her; you see her shake her head, straightening up from her position at the case in a slow and shaky way but the man is already pointing to one of the pastries and speaking to the barista.

The barista looks a little irritated as she bags up a couple of sweet buns and looks out at the long line of customers still waiting in the shop – the couple doesn’t seem to notice or care, though. The wife looks like she’s scolding her husband but you spot a gleam in her eyes, and an eagerness in the way she clutches her hands together like a child waiting to receive a treat. The old man smiles softly as he counts out a few thousand won.

You fight the urge to pay for their order. If you were back home, that kind of thing might be acceptable – but here you’re unsure how it might reflect on someone’s sense of pride. Besides, you don’t want to interrupt whatever they’ve got going on. You settle for smiling politely at the man as he shuffles past you, his wife attached at his elbow as the two cut a slow path through the crowded café.

You order a cappuccino, pay and put your earbuds in while you wait. The barista hands it to you just a couple of minutes later and you make your way back into the street, carefully clutching your hot drink so it doesn’t slosh. Once you’re outside, you open up Yoongi’s attachment and press play.

You recognize it from the very first note.

It’s the song he played you in the dorm – weeks ago, now. The instrument at the beginning is the same, flushed out with reverb and synth in the background to give it an almost dreamy feel. You’re transported by the sound of it, your heart beating a little faster like it did the first time Yoongi sat you at his desk and let you listen to this track.

Your coffee is warm in your hands and the feeling spreads through your body as the first verse starts. Yoongi’s rap is tighter, calmer – he must have gone back and re-recorded it. You can hear him draw each breath and it’s almost like he’s here now, sharing a conversation with you. You laugh out loud at the uncanniness of it, not caring about the strange looks you get in response. The verse rolls into the bridge and you catch yourself holding your breath.

You’re still standing at the top of the hill when the chorus starts and you hear it.

Your voice – bright and clear and unmistakable, woven in alongside Yoongi’s. His vocals are breathy, honeyed, warm like the morning sun that hits your face as you stand stunned on the sidewalk. Your voices match note for note, similar in tone until yours spirals into a short harmony – you remember recording it, but you can’t believe you’re hearing it like this.

You’re so lost in the moment that you miss the flood of people that suddenly exit the metro station just behind you – until you’re nearly swept along in the rush of bodies moving past you on either side. Your feet move automatically, carrying you down the hill as the song plays on. You feel strangely removed from the crowd – adrift in your own secret moment, keenly aware and able to observe everything in fine detail as faces and storefronts and cars flow past you.

The feeling follows you all the way down the hill, and by the time the song finishes you’re approaching the BigHit building. Still a little dazed and smiling ear to ear, you tuck your earbuds into your pocket and pull out your phone instead. You quickly place a call to Yoongi and he picks up right away.

“Did you listen?” he asks, sounding a little croaky but alert.

“Yes – Yoongi, I – “

“Come to Genius Lab. I’m here.”

You drop your phone in your bag without hanging up and take off – weaving between pedestrians as you rush to close the last block between you and the front doors to BigHit. You cross the lobby at an equal pace, opting to take the stairs up to the fourth floor instead of the elevator. Breathless by the time you reach the right landing, you swipe your badge at the pad by the door and make your way down the hall to Yoongi’s studio.

You push the door open and nearly bounce off of it when it stops short – there’s a body on the other side. A muffled noise of surprise reaches your ears and then Hoseok’s face appears around the edge of the door. His eyes widen when he sees you.

“Y/N-ah – “

“Hobi, shit – I’m so sorry – “

He reaches for you, stepping back so he can open the door wide enough to pull you inside. Your eyes fall on three more people in the small studio space: Namjoon and Slow Rabbit are standing in front of the desk, talking quietly to one another; Yoongi is seated on the couch. He quickly gets to his feet as soon as he recognizes you, his lips parting as he rakes a hand through his hair.

Yoongi looks tired – there are faint circles under his eyes and you figure it’s because of the late flight the members were on. He’s dressed in a dark green crewneck sweater and black jeans; his hair looks shorter since you last saw him and it’s parted to the side in a way that makes his face look even more beautiful – all soft edges and slopes and high cheekbones. You notice all of this as you cross the small room to stand next to him.

You draw a deep breath and hold it in your chest, suddenly unsure of what to say now that you’re in front of Yoongi. He eyes the others before scanning your face closely and clearing his throat.

“Hey.”

Just the sound of his voice sends warmth shooting through your veins.

“Hey,” you answer breathlessly. “When did you get in?”

“About three in the morning. I slept on the plane, but…”

“You must be exhausted.”

Yoongi nods wearily. He glances at Namjoon again before taking a small step closer to you.

“You went to the coffee shop?” he asks, his voice pitched low.

You nod.

“Yeah. I – “

Namjoon’s voice cuts you off before you can say anything further.

“Hey – Y/N-ah, came to welcome us back?”

He’s got his dimpled smile turned on you; you return it and greet him and Slow Rabbit. Hoseok looks between you, Yoongi and the other two men and tugs at his beanie.

“Namjoon-ah, shouldn’t we get going soon?” he asks. “We have practice coming up and I want to get coffee first.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen and then his face droops with what looks like a mix of exhaustion and determination. “Yeah – sorry, PD-nim, our schedule – “

Slow Rabbit waves him off and the two men start to follow as Hoseok slips out of the door into the studio. Namjoon glances at Yoongi as he goes.

“You’ll catch up with us, hyung?”

The older man nods and the others leave. It’s quiet in the studio once the door closes behind Namjoon. A twinge of anxiety laces through your veins as Yoongi turns his eyes on you. There’s a pregnant pause before you find your voice.

“The song – I…Yoongi, I can’t believe that song.”

His lips spread into a bashful smile and you have to wrap your arms around your chest to physically restrain yourself from reaching for him. He shifts on his feet.

“Technically it’s your finished birthday present…”

You laugh. “It’s amazing – I don’t even know what to say…I can’t believe my voice is in it.”

“Your voice belongs in it,” Yoongi presses. “I didn’t know that, obviously, when I started working on it…even when I asked you to record something at the dorm that night. I didn’t know how much it needed your voice.”

You blush. “Your voice sounds pretty incredible on its own.”

“They sound better together.”

He pins you with a long gaze and there’s a few beats of silence before he continues.

“I wasn’t sure how or when to show it to you…”

“The coffee shop was perfect,” you say quickly. “Out on the street, in the sunshine…it was perfect.”

“Did you see the old couple?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, and Yoongi gives you a knowing nod.

“How did you…?”

“They’re in there at the same time, every Thursday. It’s always the same thing, too: they order coffees and then one of them sees something else they like; the other ends up buying it and there’s usually some bickering…”

He trails off, eyelashes looking like dark crescents above his cheeks as he glances down at his hands.

“I like them. They go through that act each time like it’s brand new, too…they dance around each other but really one knows exactly what the other wants.”

Your breath stills and you feel frozen in place – though all you want to do is get closer to Yoongi. Another few moments of quiet hang between you; you hold his gaze and brush your hair back behind your ears before bending slightly to sit your coffee on the table. Your palms are sweating all of a sudden.

“Ah – as great as the song is, though, I think I should re-record some of the harmonies,” you say quickly. “If you get time, I mean – or I could try to do it on my own and send you the files…”

Yoongi shakes his head. He shuffles around the coffee table and crosses over to his desk, where he leans down to pull something up on the monitor.

“We can do it now, if you want – let’s just record them together. It’s easier.”

“Oh – OK, yeah – great…”

You wander into the recording booth and Yoongi follows after a minute. You certainly haven’t warmed up your voice yet, and the idea of singing right now suddenly feels impossible – your throat feels tight and your whole body a little shaky as Yoongi joins you in the small, quiet space. You have to shuffle around a bit to make room for him to get in the door; you bump into the small table under the mic and curse at your clumsiness.

“We’ll just try a couple takes, yeah?” Yoongi says, handing you a pair of headphones. “No pressure.”

You nod. “Right.”

You clear your throat a few times, flipping one side of the headphones around so you can hold it up to your ear comfortably. Yoongi does the same before tugging the mic to adjust its height, bringing it level between the two of you so you don’t have to stand up on your toes to reach it. His eyes flick to meet yours as you shuffle closer to the mic – and to him.

You feel a soft huff of air rush past your lips when the music starts. The bright notes are familiar but somehow surreal now, with Yoongi stood here in front of you as your mind drifts back to that night in his room at the dorm. He had platinum blonde hair back then, you remember, and you were a little tipsy – but his face is the same now as it was then, and the smell of him just as dizzying.

You think about the things you both said that night – and the things you wanted to say. You think about the things you wanted to do and have been wanting to do ever since. Your heart thuds with the sudden urgency of it all and the music in your ear seems to fade away.

Yoongi’s eyes are still trained on yours; you watch as his grip on his headphones loosens and his arm slowly lowers down by his side. The chorus is coming up and you faintly register the now totally absurd thought that you’re supposed to be getting ready to sing. You take a shallow breath.

Yoongi sets his headphones on the table beneath the mic and reaches for you, bringing both hands to cup the sides of your face as he steps in and presses his lips against yours. Your eyelids flutter shut automatically and your breath catches at the first touch of his mouth – firm but not insistent; purposeful but soft. It’s the softness of his lips and the warmth of his palms that has you relaxing into the kiss even as you feel a rush of something electric light through your veins.

Yoongi’s thumb strokes at your cheekbone and goosebumps prickle up the back of your neck. Leaning further into the plush press of his lips, you wrap your hands around his wrists and suddenly there’s a loud clattering sound. You jolt apart slightly and it’s a moment before you realize that you dropped your headphones on the ground.

“Shit – those are probably expensive, I…”

The words slip out unbidden, your voice sounding airy and shaky in the small room. Your gaze slides from the headset on the floor back to Yoongi’s eyes – which look rich brown from this close up, his pupils wide and flecked with light. He blinks, looking a little dazed.

“Ah – they’re…replaceable – a couple million won. Maybe.”

“Oh,” you breathe. “OK, yeah – that’s a lot.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Yoongi hums, bringing his lips close enough to brush yours when he speaks. “Is this – is this OK with you?”

“What – the kissing?”

Yoongi nods, his nose nudging yours. “Yeah. That.”

Your eyes slip shut again. “It’s good.”

“Good. Good. D’you – d’you want me to do it again?”

“Yes please.”

Yoongi’s lips crush against yours and you reach for him, threading your hands into his hair – his soft hair. You relish the feel of it between your fingers while he tilts his head to deepen the way his mouth slots with yours. His lips move with a practiced ease, caressing yours in a way that’s intoxicating but still chaste – until you give a tug at his black locks, and then you’re both opening your mouths to one another. You share twin, quiet gasps that mingle in the space between you before he nips at your lower lip and his hands drop to pull you in roughly by your waist.

Yoongi’s tongue slides against yours and a shudder runs through your body. The taste of his mouth has you weak; your heart riots in your chest and you think he must feel it, with the way your body is pressed flush against his. You curl your fingertips against his scalp and pull his face tighter to yours; your teeth knock together and you think you might never come up for air but all you can think about is getting him closer – close enough to make your mind go blank; close enough to feel like he could swallow you whole.

Yoongi pulls back a bit to catch his breath and you chase his lips automatically. He chuckles softly as you kiss at his mouth, leaving gentle pecks along his upper lip until you angle your head closer and tease the tip of your tongue against his. You can hear and feel his breath hitch in his chest; his hands slip down to grip your ass and you’re honestly not sure who but someone lets out a quiet but very needy moan –

He's about to claim your mouth again when you lean slightly away from him, fingers still tangled in his hair where you stay the dipping motion of his head.

“Yoongs – OK, wait, hold on…”

He’s panting, shoulders heaving a bit as he looks at you with unfocused eyes for a second and then seems to come to all at once.

“Shit – sorry,” Yoongi huffs, eyes widening as he pulls his hands back suddenly – like he was feeling up a hot stove and not your ass cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t – I just got – “

He takes a big step back and you immediately grab for his shirt.

“No – don’t – don’t go, you idiot,” you scold. You pull yourself close to him again and take his face in your hands.

Yoongi’s cheeks are soft under your palms and you valiantly fight the urge to squish them.

“I didn’t mean stop, I meant – I meant pause. This is good. I don’t want you to stop, this is…” you trail off momentarily, having made the mistake of glancing at his lips. “This is all very new, and very…hot…”

In one surprisingly smooth motion, Yoongi pulls your hands from his face and tugs your arms to wrap around his middle so he can duck his head and kiss you again. You collapse against his chest briefly, very nearly succumbing to the press of his mouth before you pull your head back once more. Your lips part with a quiet smack.

“It’s just…”

Yoongi watches your face carefully, eyes full of anticipation as he waits for you to finish your thought.

“What is it?” he asks quietly.

You glance at the microphone still hanging next to you.

“…Is that thing still recording?”

He follows the line of your eyes, pausing for a drawn-out moment before bursting into laughter. You pull your arms back to wrap around your middle and Yoongi’s hands slide to cup your elbows.

“I guess we should try that take again, hm?”

You stifle a somewhat delirious-sounding giggle. You reach up and press your fingertips to your lips, cheeks glowing at how sensitive they now feel. Yoongi picks the other pair of headphones up from the floor and looks at them thoughtfully before setting them down. You notice his cheeks look flushed as well. You clear your throat and run your fingers through your hair in an attempt to tame it.

“I don’t know about you but I’m not sure I have it in me to sing right now…”

Yoongi grins sheepishly. “We can come back to it.”

You shuffle out of the small recording space and into the studio, with Yoongi trailing just behind.

“Are you going to delete the recording?” you ask lightly.

“I mean…yes?”

“Maybe you could use it as a sample or something. It could be fun.”

He laughs at that. “Y/N-ah…”

“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it and sneak it into a TXT track.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Imagine listening to their debut album, and boom – there’s your cute little kissy noises in the middle of track fo – ahh!”

Yoongi grabs you around the middle and hauls you back against him. He manhandles you away from the monitor, lifting you up off your feet and plopping you back by the door to the recording booth. You just giggle as he bends over his keyboard and quickly gets rid of the sound file.

“You’re no fun,” you pout unconvincingly.

“I never claimed to be,” he deadpans. “And I do not make kissy noises...”

“You may have deleted the evidence but I know what I heard.”

Yoongi shakes his head slowly, squinting his eyes as he stares at the monitor. “I should have realized kissing you would only make you more of a brat.”

Your smirk fades as Yoongi shoots you a glare. You can tell he’s not serious but the tips of his ears are pink and you recognize it as a cue to tone it down. You edge close to him again, reaching for the hem of his sweater with your fingers.

“Sorry…I’m done.”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows at you. “Huh?”

“With teasing. I promise.”

He huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “Giving up that easily, really?”

You smile weakly. “Yeah, well – I don’t wanna spoil anything and…I know I can be a little too much.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows pull together briefly and then his expression melts into something soft. He straightens up and steps nearer to you, clicking his tongue gently as he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Princess,” he says, tilting your face up toward his. “You’re never too – “

The end of his sentence is cut off by a sudden, incredibly loud pair of bangs at the studio door.

“Hyung! Dance practice starts in five minutes!”

Jimin’s voice startles you both. Yoongi curses low under his breath and you quickly take a step away from him, eyes darting to the door though it remains closed.

“Yah – coming!”

Yoongi’s answer comes with more than a hint of annoyance in his voice. He pushes a hand through his hair, grumbling to himself as he moves to shut down his monitor. An uneasy, panicky feeling blooms in your chest and you quickly grab your now-cold coffee from the low table.

“Should we, um…leave separately?”

Yoongi turns to look at you as he’s swinging his backpack over one shoulder. The frustration in his eyes is tempered with confusion.

“Why?” he asks. There’s still a bit of an edge in his voice. “Jimin-ah’s seen us together plenty of times.”

“I know, but – “

“Nothing’s different. Don’t worry about it.”

You nod, trying to hide the sinking feeling in your stomach from showing on your face.

“Right. OK, well – “

“Hyung!!”

“I’m COMING!!”

Yoongi nearly bellows this time. You step out of the way as he makes for the door, two deep lines nestled between his eyebrows as he scowls.

“I’m way too tired for this,” he mutters – mostly to himself, you think. “Come on. Let’s go.”

He pulls open the door and you hesitantly follow him out into the hallway where Jimin and Taehyung are standing. Their faces brighten when they spot you.

“Y/N-ah!” Jimin says sweetly. “We missed you. Here, hyung – we brought this for you.”

Yoongi takes a large cup of iced coffee from the younger man and mumbles a thank-you. Taehyung looks over at you and shakes his head while Yoongi shuffles off down the hallway.

“Has he been bad this morning, noona?”

Your face flushes. “Wh-what? No – not bad – what?”

Jimin narrows his eyes. “He’s been extra grumpy and whiny since we left last night.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees, looking a little sad. “He wouldn’t let me cuddle with him on the plane.”

“Oh,” you say, slightly relieved. “Maybe he is a little…off. I think he’s just tired, you know.”

“Hyung is always tired.”

“But he always cheers up when he sees you, noona,” Jimin says teasingly, a sly smile on his lips.

You dodge his hand as he goes to poke you in the side, bumping into Taehyung who throws a long arm around your shoulder and leans his whole weight against you. Yoongi is already several strides away from the three of you; you watch the back of his head as he sips his coffee and trudges toward the elevators.

“Well – not always…”

The maknaes scamper off a few moments later when Yoongi barks at them to get on the elevator. Once alone, you make your way down to the lounge to heat up your coffee and start your day. It’s just after nine-thirty but it seems like it should be way later, after the strange morning you’ve had.

Your phone buzzes while you’re watching your coffee spin in the microwave.

MYG [9:36]: sorry about that. those two drove me absolutely nuts on the plane home.

MYG [9:36]: i’ll make it up to you

You can’t help but smile down at your screen.

Y/N [9:37]: hmmm. and how do you plan to do that?

MYG [9:37]: bribery

Y/N [9:38]: in the form of…?

MYG [9:38]: secrets

MYG [9:38]: snacks

MYG [9:39]: free piano lessons

Y/N [9:40]: i also accept cash and most major credit cards

MYG [9:41]: how about i just kiss you again

Y/N [9:41]: that works too, yes

Y/N [9:44]: ……but will you make the noises?

He doesn’t reply, but you figure you’ll get your answer eventually.

Chapter Text

It’s nearly impossible to find time to make out with Yoongi.

You realize this shouldn’t be number one on your list of priorities. At Namjoon’s suggestion to Bang Sihyuk, you’ve been pulled into a writer’s circle with some other producers and a handful of lyricists tasked with creating and sourcing some new material for Bangtan’s next album. Though you’re happy for the chance to branch out, it’s a lot of pressure and it feels a little out of your wheelhouse.

At the same time, you’re dealing with some curveballs in your work with TXT. BigHit decided to start ramping up Yeonjun’s training as a rapper and somehow this translates to you spending more time with him in the studio – showing him how to create beats, helping him practice verses and generally lending an ear when he’s stuck on something. It also means more time in the studio with Yeonjun and Bangtan’s rapline, when they’re available; Yeonjun mostly observes during these sessions but still seems to always find a way to flirt with you in front of Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t seem outwardly bothered by it – which may or may not make the whole situation even more maddening. There may or may not be a teeny, tiny part of you that wishes Yoongi would get jealous and throw you up against a wall just to prove a point…

But that remains your secret fantasy. Yours and Songhee’s, of course. There is no greater proponent of Finding Time To Make Out With Yoongi than Songhee herself.

With no time for anything more than a few stolen kisses in an elevator, you’ve been feeling so frustrated and edgy that you resorted to eating (and drinking) your feelings at a late-night barbecue restaurant. That was where you told Songhee about the track Yoongi had sent you from Japan.

“So,” she said, taking a pause to throw back a shot of soju. “He showed you this special song, took your voice and spent hours editing it into the track, and sent you to a particular place at a particular time just to make sure you’d have a straight-up magical experience when you listened to it…”

You nodded, grabbing a piece of pork from the grill with your chopsticks. “Yup.”

Songhee stared at you.

“…and you’re still trying to tell me he doesn’t have feelings for you?”

You blushed – but your face was already pink from the alcohol and the heat of the grill, so it didn’t make much of an obvious difference.

“I don’t know about that, Songhee – “

“Girl.”

“I said I don’t know!!” you hissed.

“Yes you do!” she squawked back. “You brought me out here just to spill this story but you wanna act all coy and shit about the situation??”

“I brought you out here for companionship and conversation and alcohol.”

Songhee ignored your defense completely, pursing her lips and shaking her head as she put some more meat on the grill.

“You’re hot for him and he’s hot for you. Maybe it’s not a romantic thing but I’m telling you, it’s only a matter of time before you’re sneaking into his studio to play tonsil hockey.”

You fell silent – unable to lie to Songhee and unsure of how to break the news. She stuffed a particularly large piece of pork in her mouth, glancing over at you only after a long stretch of quiet.

“…Y/N?” she asked around her mouthful of food.

You sipped innocently at your beer.

“Why are you so quiet, Y/N?”

You covered your mouth – but not quickly enough to hide the smile that crept onto your face. Songhee’s eyes widened, cheeks still bulging as she stopped her chewing and before you could stop her she pushed back from the table and stood up.

“Songhee – sit down – “

She dodged your hand as you reached for her arm, swallowing down her pork and gaping at you.

“You – wait – no way,” she spluttered. Loudly.

The couple at the next table over glanced at your friend. You went for her arm again, this time catching her by the wrist and tugging.

“Please – “

“You ALREADY MADE OUT WITH HIM?”

“Oh, my God. Sit.”

Songhee plopped back down in her chair, slammed both elbows on the table and leaned forward to gaze at you intently.

“OK – you need to tell me everything. Right now.”

You finished your beer, shooting a sheepish grin to the couple beside you before raising one hand to your forehead to shield your face while you turned a glare to Songhee.

“First of all – where did you pick up the phrase tonsil hockey??”

“Irrelevant. Get on with the story.”

You sighed heavily. “There’s no story. We just…kissed. In his studio.”

She stares at you, unmoving. You roll your eyes.

“Fine, we kissed a few times.”

Songhee titters in her seat. “Holy shit. Is he a good kisser?”

You pressed your lips together, fighting back a smile. “Yes.”

“Did he use tongue?”

Your smile disappeared and you narrowed your eyes at your friend. “How old are you?”

“Answer the question.”

You huffed. “Jesus – yes. There was some tongue.”

Songhee’s ass levitated an inch or so off her chair and you clamped a hand on her shoulder to push her back down. She was practically vibrating with excitement by that point.

“When did this happen??”

“After I listened to that song, so…end of last week,” you explained, picking at the label on your beer bottle. “But I’ve barely seen him since then, and I don’t really know what’s going on between us at this point.”

“What do you mean?”

You met her eyes for a moment, drawing a long breath as you tried to gather your thoughts about the situation.

“I mean…I get that there’s some kind of attraction there, but I don’t know where it’s coming from for him. I don’t know how he feels…I don’t even know how I feel, for that matter. Plus we’re breaking about fifty different rules just by messing around at all, which I neglected to think about before all this happened…I just feel like I maybe set myself up for a whole lot of stress by letting myself develop this big, fat crush on him.”

Songhee laid her hand on your wrist.

“Y/N,” she said gently. “We don’t get to choose who we have big, fat crushes on.”

“I know…”

“And you don’t need to have it all figured out. It’s OK that you don’t know how you feel,” she pressed on. “Did you like kissing him?”

“…Yeah.”

“And you like being around him?”

“Yes.”

“And he treats you with respect?”

You shifted in your seat. “Yeah, he does.”

Songhee sat back in her chair, a satisfied look in her eyes. “Then that’s all you need to know. Just try to have fun with it for now – ask for what you want, be cool and don’t get yourself fired.”

You nodded, giving her a small smile while picking your chopsticks back up. Songhee watched as you sampled a few bites from the different bowls of banchan littered around the table.

“And I swear to God, if you don’t call and tell me everything the second after you get that dick – “

“SONGHEE!!”

Yelling proved to be of no use. She’s become deeply invested in your sex-life – whatever shape it might be in, at the moment – and has been texting you nearly every day looking for updates on the situation between you and Yoongi.

Despite her efforts, there just aren’t many updates to share since both of your schedules are so packed and disjointed. He never seems to be alone in his studio when you do have time to drop by; whenever other staff or the members are around, Yoongi makes a marked attempt to avoid too much interaction with you. You get it – really, you do – but he’s so good at acting nonchalant and indifferent that it sometimes even you forget there’s anything going on between you.

You and Yoongi did pick an evening to record those harmonies for his solo track – but Namjoon overheard the two of you talking about it and enthusiastically volunteered to help out. Neither of you could say no to his eager, deep-dimpled smile and honestly the extra pair of hands made the whole thing go a lot smoother than it would have otherwise.

But you’re not looking for smooth. Despite your confusion over the status of your relationship with Yoongi and your concerns about BigHit finding out, you seem to be riding a bit of a chaotic streak. Fueled by sexual frustration and sheer suspense, you find yourself looking for ways to shake things up wherever possible.

One of those opportunities arose when you volunteered to drop off some sound equipment with TXT at the dorms. BigHit had ordered a few things to help Yeonjun set-up a recording space at home and you figured you could show him how to put it all together. It also didn’t hurt that Yeonjun’s sweet-but-impish disposition was a nice distraction from your stress over work and Yoongi.

You went over to the dorms late on a Sunday evening and brought bags of takeaway with you. The members demanded that you eat with them so you spent a good hour or so sitting cross-legged on their messy living room floor, listening to them squabble and chatter about their debut. Beomgyu and Taehyun helped clean-up while Hueningkai showed you some pictures that his family had sent from a recent trip to Hawaii.

To your surprise, Yeonjun mostly kept his distance. He sat on his bed with Soobin and watched as you set up the equipment, only chiming in to ask questions rather than make cheeky remarks. Eventually Soobin slipped away to his own room and you traded spots with Yeonjun so you could watch him tool around on with the new software on his laptop.

You watched him quietly for a while, offering pointers where necessary but otherwise zoning out as you traced the line of his profile. Yeonjun had his hair dyed black earlier in the week and was freshly showered; dressed in simple sweats with no makeup on, he looked younger than his actual age.

“You’re quiet today, Junnie,”  you remarked at one point.

You noticed the slight upturn to Yeonjun’s nose, the shape of his ear, the fullness of his lips – little details that added to the unique quality of his beauty. You wondered how his face might change in a few years.

“And you’re staring, noona.”

You blinked, shaking your head. “N-no I’m not.”

“Mhm.”

Yeonjun turned his head by a couple of degrees and his large eyes slid over to land on you with an appraising gaze. You squirmed a bit in your seat on the mattress.

“You just look…serious. I’m not used to it.”

His eyebrow lifted briefly. “What am I usually like?”

Your phone buzzed next to you on the bed.

“I don’t know – I just meant, you know…if there’s anything going on with you, you know you can talk to me about it.”

Yeonjun stayed quiet, his eyes tracking his work on the screen of the laptop. You reached for your phone and checked your messages.

MYG [10:45]: are you downstairs?

Y/N [10:46]: perhaps

Y/N [10:46]: how did you know?

“Can I really talk to you about anything?”

You glanced back at Yeonjun, who was still looking at the computer screen.

“Of course you can. You know you can.”

You thought you saw a muscle twitch in Yeonjun’s jaw. Another stretch of silence came, punctuated by your phone vibrating again - twice. You risked a glance at your screen.

MYG [10:48]: jk

MYG [10:48]: he said you were supposed to meet up but you had to drop something off for txt…

“That seems unfair for you to say, Y/N-ssi.”

You looked up, surprised at the sound of your name paired with the unfamiliar honorific – unfamiliar for Yeonjun, at least. It was always noona, and only rarely Y/N-ah; you were both clear on the terms that best fit the nature of your relationship, you thought.

“Yeonjun – ?”

He took a deep breath in through his nose before pulling his hands back from the keyboard and turning in his chair to face you. A nervous feeling settled in your stomach at the strange look in his eye.

“I don’t want to say too much,” he said carefully. “You’re important to the members, and I know better than to put personal matters before work – especially before we debut…”

You waited while he sat quietly, looking down at his hands. The air in the room felt closer, thicker. A lock of dark hair fell over Yeonjun’s brow as he prepared to speak again.

“You must know how I feel about you, I think. And I think you don’t feel the same way, but…sometimes it confuses me when you still choose to hang around. If you don’t feel anything for me, I wish you would act like it.”

You felt yourself blanch. “I…Junnie, wow – I don’t know what to say, I – “

His brows crumpled together, a mixture of frustration and hurt flashing over his pretty face. You felt sick.

“Don’t,” he said, quiet but firm. “Don’t pretend like this is a surprise. You said I could talk to you about anything – I’m not going to talk at all if you won’t be honest with me.”

Fuck. Your phone buzzed again and you fought the urge to throw it out the window. Yeonjun ran a hand through his hair and took another bracing inhale.

“I know we have to work together, but sometimes it seems like you want more than that – like you want to be closer to me. Then I put myself out there – purposely, like at PD-nim’s party – and you brush me off.”

He sat forward, bracing his palms against his knees as he looked into your eyes. You opened your mouth to speak up but Yeonjun got there first.

“Is it because I’m younger?” he asked soberly. “Because I don’t care about that – I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

“Yeonjun-ah, please,” you interjected, face flushing. “Look – I care about you. A lot. But this is…I can’t even have this conversation.”

You stood up from the bed, feeling a little shaky as your heart pounded in your chest. Yeonjun watched your movements with confusion in his eyes.

“Seriously, I could lose my job for even talking about this. We work together and if BigHit…”

You trailed off. Over the next few seconds of quiet, Yeonjun’s features smoothed out and settled into a stony, flat expression. He already knew what was coming, and it killed you.

“I’m sorry.”

You made for the door, hurrying down the hall and out of the small apartment as quickly and quietly as possible. Thankfully none of the other members saw you go, but still you felt shame roiling in your belly.

Once in the hallway, you opened your phone to see what Yoongi had texted.

MYG [10:51]: are you going to come up?

You didn’t hesitate to take the elevator up two stories. You felt like garbage and wanted to distract yourself – you hoped seeing Yoongi would be the quickest way to turn your mood around before you sunk too low.

You knocked on Bangtan’s door – maybe a little too firmly, a little too rushed – and it swung open a minute or so later to reveal Taehyung’s surprised face.

“Noona!”

The title brought Yeonjun’s face back into your mind’s eye. You shook it off, forcing a smile for Taehyung as he let you into the dorm.

“Hey – is Yoongi here?”

He grinned at you and grabbed your wrist. “Yeah, hyungie is here!! We’re all hanging out. Come on – you can sit with me.”

Taehyung led you into the living room and your stomach dipped unpleasantly when you realized he really meant all of them were hanging out: all seven members of Bangtan were spread out in front of the television, dressed in sweats and pajamas. Jungkook and Jimin were draped over either arm of the leather sofa; Hoseok sat in a chair to the left, his legs crossed elegantly as he looked at something on his phone. Namjoon and Jin were sat on the floor in front of the couch with their eyes glued to whatever the group was watching.

Yoongi sat cross-legged between the two maknaes and his eyebrows lifted when you came into view. Most of the members greeted you with a smile or a wave and turned their attention back to whatever screen they were looking at; as you drew closer, you realized a new episode of a K-drama was playing on the television.

Taehyung launched himself into the one open armchair beside the couch. “Here – sit!!”

He patted the leather beside him and beamed at you with his boxy grin – you had no choice but to wedge yourself in between his bony hip and the other arm of the chair. He immediately snuggled up against your side, dropping his chin on your shoulder as he turned his wide brown eyes back to the show on the screen.

Perfect, you thought bitterly. Normally you’d love the chance to kick back with the members – you weren’t sure you’d ever seen them all together and relaxing like this – but right now you were antsy. Anxious and unsettled and near ready to jump out of your skin. You wanted to vent or you wanted to put the last twenty minutes of your life out of your head completely, and you couldn’t do either of those things now.

You didn’t dare look at Yoongi but you could practically feel his eyes on you. A text notification popped up on your phone but you couldn’t open it with Taehyung so close by. You were stuck.

Fifteen minutes passed before the next commercial break. Jimin bounced up off the couch and stretched, yawning loudly before scooting out from behind the coffee table.

“Anyone want a beer?”

You got up right away and followed him to the kitchen – and to your relief, Yoongi trailed in a few moments later. Jimin chatted politely with you as he leaned into the fridge; he loaded both hands with green-bottled beers and shot you a quick wink before stealing back to the living room. Yoongi grabbed two bottles and brought them over to where you leaned up against the sink.

“I didn’t actually want a beer,” you said quietly as he handed you a bottle.

“I know,” Yoongi answered, cracking the cap off of yours by pressing it against the countertop. “But we did come in here under the pretense of beer, and you kinda look like you need one.”

You huffed a humorless laugh, accepted the bottle from him and took a sip. Yoongi peered closely at your face, one eyebrow raised.

“How are the hoobaes?”

“They’re fine.”

“Does Yeonjun-ah still have the hots for you?”

You couldn’t hide your blush. “No.”

Yoongi squinted at you, one corner of his mouth lifting into a smile.

“He does, doesn’t he?”

You sighed, irritated, but Yoongi pressed on.

“What did he try this time, hm? That kid practically threw himself at you last time I saw him – though I can’t say I blame him, really – “

“Don’t, Yoongi.”

He must have picked up on your tone because he never finished his thought. Yoongi edged closer to you, tilting his head to read your expression carefully.

“Princess…what’s wrong?”

There was worry in his voice, and for a split second you thought you might crack. Your eyes burned but you shook your head.

“Nothing’s wrong, just…wanted to see you.”

You reached for the hem of his t-shirt, tugging him nearer. Yoongi’s eyes slid to the doorway of the kitchen even as he moved in close, his body almost caging yours against the counter. You tilted your face up toward his but Yoongi didn’t lean in.

“Ah – someone could walk in…”

You shrugged. “Who cares? It seems like Jimin-ah already knows something’s up, anyway...”

The sick feeling returned to your stomach as you remembered the line you’d given to Yeonjun about getting in trouble with BigHit. You pushed the thought out of your mind.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t. Jiminie just thinks everyone is having sex with everyone – all the time.”

Your next words came out too sharp.

“Well, he’s sorely mistaken in this case, isn’t he?”

Yoongi’s expression melted into something between worry and surprise. “Hey…”

There was hurt in his eyes, too; the realization hit you like a punch in the gut and you felt like crying again. You wanted to plant kisses all over Yoongi’s face but all you could do was wrap your arms around your middle and look down at your shoes.

“Y/N-ah,” he said softly – softer than you deserved. You felt Yoongi’s fingers against your cheek. “What’s going on?”

You exhaled heavily and pushed down the fresh wave of emotion that swelled in your chest. “I’m sorry. I just had a bad day, I think…”

Yoongi nodded. He dipped his head down to press his forehead to yours for a moment.

“I’m sorry all the members are here like this. I should have warned you.”

Taking advantage of his closeness, you brought your hands up to rest against the back of his neck.

“Can’t we just go in your room for a little while?”

He covered your hands with his and gently pulled them back down by your sides. “Y/N…I don’t – “

“Please, Yoongs,” you whispered, lifting your face close to his again. “Don’t you want to make my day better?”

Yoongi made a sad little sound of indecision – a tiny, frustrated grunt that revealed how torn he was. You could see the wheels turning in his mind as he watched you pout up at him.

You, on the other hand, weren’t torn at all: you wanted him. Badly. You slipped one hand under his t-shirt and ran your fingers up his side, hungry to touch; the taut skin above his hip felt like satin and the new knowledge sent a thrill through you. You leaned in closer –

“Princess – come on…”

Yoongi gathered your wrist into a gentle grip and stepped away, putting a foot or two of space between your bodies. He glanced over his shoulder toward the doorway again before looking back into your eyes.

“We can’t. I share a room with Jin-hyung, you know that – and it’s just…a bad idea.”

Shame laced through your veins, mixing nastily with the arousal that had been throbbing through your system just a moment earlier. The feeling of rejection was so sharp that you thought you might actually be sick to your stomach.

“Y-yeah, that’s…you’re right,” you stammered. You pushed off from the counter. “I gotta go, anyway…“

You heard Yoongi say something else but your feet carried you out into the foyer before it could even register. You left the dorm quickly, not wanting to face any of the other members; you wanted to get home and go to bed and not see anyone for the rest of your life.

That, of course, didn’t pan out. Yoongi gave you about twelve hours of space before he called, curious to see if you were alright and hopeful that you might let him in on what was going on in your head. You blamed your strange behavior on stress and lack of sleep – things he could relate to; you left out the bits about Yeonjun’s confession and your mounting sexual frustration.

Frustration which – if you’re honest – is morphing into something bigger than general angst. Your stress over BigHit and Yeonjun and Yoongi and (in the back of your mind) Jooheon is starting to feel like one giant, tangled mess – one that you can’t ignore, no matter where you find yourself throughout the day. One worry leads easily into another at any given moment and somehow they all connect back to a gnawing sense of self-doubt.

This isn’t new for you. Your tendency to internalize external stressors took root long ago and you picked up various labels for it throughout the years: generalized anxiety disorder, anxious attachment, imposter syndrome…the titles mattered less as you grew older. As an adult, you mostly feel empowered by leaning on the simple knowledge that when you get stressed, you get hard on yourself; this insight helped you avoid or cope with countless life challenges and most of the time, you could take care of yourself without getting too bogged down by negative thoughts.

There have certainly been exceptions, though. The trouble is that you don’t always see the negative thoughts coming. They tend to creep in – slow, unassuming and completely convincing; sometimes it takes you a while to spot them.

So when Yoongi texts one evening and asks you to swing by Genius Lab, your mind instantly jumps to a pretty nasty place. Instead of being excited to see him – to get alone time with him – you worry: about messing things up. About being rejected again. About the wrinkles in your dress and your slightly chapped lips and the possibility that Yoongi maybe isn’t into you the way you’re into him.  

You let yourself into the studio around eight and find Yoongi wiring a new set of speakers at his desk. He turns his head when you walk-in, peering at you over his shoulder while his hands are busy behind his monitor.

“Hey,” he says brightly, shaking his head to move the hair from in front of his eyes.

“Hi,” you reply with a weak smile.

He doesn’t immediately invite you to sit, and you wonder if that’s a bad sign.

Yoongi looks back at what he’s doing with the wires. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still be around this late.”

“Oh…I was trying to learn something on piano and lost track of time,” you explain. “I probably should have been working on that song-writing stuff, though…”

“Did you eat yet?”

You pause, unsure of why he’s asking. Do you look hungry?

“No. I forgot about dinner…I think?”

Yoongi chuckles. “You think?”

Your cheeks flush. That was a dumb thing to say.

“I mean – yeah, no…I didn’t eat yet.”

“Do you want to order something? I’m starving.”

You wish you could see his face – get a better idea of what he’s really thinking – but you can’t see it while he’s working on his set-up like this.

“Like, order something and eat together?”

“Yeah.”

“You…you would want to do that?”

Yoongi straightens up, pushing the speakers into place before dusting his hands on his shirt and turning to you. There’s the beginning of a smile on his lips.

“Of course I want to. I thought we could hang here and see how these babies sound.”

He pats one of the speakers lovingly. A prickle of warmth takes up in your chest at the sight – Yoongi is so affectionate with his equipment sometimes and you find it deeply cute. You take a tentative step toward him.

“That would be nice, I guess...”

Yoongi looks at you for a moment, his eyes trailing over your form as if he’s taking you in for the first time tonight. He holds out a hand to you.

“Come here.”

Heart thudding in your ribs, you cross the small room and Yoongi tugs you close as soon as you place your fingers in his. He slips an arm around your waist and pulls you against him.

“You look sweet in this dress, princess…”

Yoongi speaks the words against your hair and without thinking you lift your head and find his mouth with yours. The warmth in your chest boldens into a glow and you feel yourself start to relax as Yoongi’s familiar scent washes over you. He wraps his other arm around your middle to hold you closer and you bring your hands to gently squeeze at his biceps. Yoongi’s kiss is just as intoxicating as you remember and you have to force yourself to pull back – only to place two careful pecks against his lips as soon as you’ve parted. He grins at your eagerness.

“What was that for?” he asks, leaning in to nuzzle at your temple.

You swallow, trying to hold on to your momentary burst of courage. You lay one hand against his chest, looking down at your fingers splayed over the fabric of his shirt.

“Nothing…I just like when you call me that.”

Yoongi presses a kiss to your cheek and you can feel the smile on his lips.

“You do?” he hums against your skin, and you nod. “That’s good…because for a minute there I thought you were getting shy with me again.”

Your face starts to heat up right away and you push back from him a little. Yoongi doesn’t let you go far.

“No – ‘m n-not shy,” you answer – unconvincingly, and a little petulant.

“No?” Yoongi asks. You shake your head but you won’t look at him. “Then tell me where the other Y/N has been lately, hm? The one with the bossy attitude who can’t go two minutes without roasting me…”

He’s teasing. You know he’s just teasing but still your stomach twists and you feel caught – like Yoongi is somehow clueing in to all the things that are wrong with you, not just your wrinkly dress but also your inconsistency, your general messiness as a human and oh God this is definitely the beginning of the end –

Your spiraling thoughts are interrupted when Yoongi places both hands over your ears, gently, and kisses your forehead. Your mind grinds to a halt.

“I know she’s in there, so…just give me a heads up when she’s back, OK?”

He releases you and turns to his monitor, leaning over the keyboard like nothing remotely interesting just transpired. You stare at the back of his head, dumbfounded, with your mouth hanging slightly open. He starts humming a quiet tune to himself and it brings you back to earth. You clear your throat.

“What makes you think I’m...getting shy?”

Yoongi clicks around noisily on the monitor screen. “I don’t know – something about the way you’ve been lately. Like today, and at the dorm the other night…”

He straightens up and turns to meet your eye. His expression is open, soft – but still you feel defensiveness stirring in your gut.

“You just seem a little guarded, is all. Almost like…well, the way you used to be around me.”

Your irritation flares momentarily. You swallow it back, torn between snapping at him and trying to work this through. The truth of what’s been going on in your head sits in your throat like a hard lump.

“I’m not…I’m not trying to be guarded,” you say carefully. It’s hard to get words out. “I told you I’m stressed and – and actually I feel like you’ve been hard to read lately.”

Yoongi blinks, his eyes drifting to a point just beyond your shoulder as he mulls this over. “Alright…can you say more?”

“Like…whenever I see you, I don’t know what to expect,” you continue. “Either you’re kissing me as soon as the elevator doors close, or – or we’re just coworkers. Sometimes we’re in the same room and it’s like I don’t even exist.”

He nods slowly, his face still calm as he lets you finish. “That’s true, and…I’m sorry. That has to feel to awful. I mean, I don’t like it either – it’s definitely not ideal, but…”

Yoongi takes a deep breath and you know what’s coming. You set your jaw as you brace for it.

“This is the way my life is, Y/N-ah – I have to act a certain way depending on what room I’m walking into. You must understand that…right?”

You nod grimly. “Right.”

“My schedule is insane – “

“I know. I’m busy too. But – “

“And I can’t risk drawing any attention from BigHit – “

“I know, Yoongs – I can’t either – “

“So we’re on the same page then, yeah?”

Yoongi’s voice is light, almost hopeful when he asks the question. He steps forward and touches a finger just below your chin, looking deep into your eyes. Your brain is screaming for you to protest – but all you can do is nod slowly.

Yoongi gives you a brief smile and turns to shuffle off toward the recording booth. “I’m gonna record a verse or two and see how it sounds over those new speakers. Then we can get dinner…unless you want to order something now?”

Your heart feels like it’s lodged in your throat and you feel a weird twinge of panic at the sight of Yoongi’s back disappearing through the doorway. You take a few steps after him.

“Yeah, just – Yoongi-yah – “

“I literally don’t care what we eat,” he calls from inside the booth. “I’m good with anything you want.”

You feel frozen – unsure of what to say, but certain that you have to say something. The stress of the past couple weeks seems to swell in your chest like a cresting wave and suddenly you’re afraid that if you stay silent, it might just pull you under.

You let your feet carry you to the threshold of the recording booth. You see Yoongi picking up a pair of headphones.

“I can’t do this.”

He freezes, hands gripping the headset as he halts the process of putting it on. Yoongi looks over at you.

“Um…you mean, ordering dinner?”

“No.” You take a step forward, pointing at your chest. “I mean this. Being guarded with you, being shy, whatever you wanna call it – I can’t do it, alright? I don’t want to do it. So here’s the truth: I get that you’re busy, we’re both busy and I said that was fine but it’s not really fine – “

His eyes widen. “Oh. OK – “

“I don’t need to know how you feel, or what you want, or where this…thing is going – really, I don’t,” you press.

“Y/N-ah, slow down – “

“I know we have to keep things secret, and you have to act a certain way when the members or staff are around – I get it – I’m trying to be cool about everything but…but you’re so hard to read sometimes, you know?? And I can’t…I can’t stop thinking – I just – “

Your words are babbling out in a rush and it feels like the air is getting thinner in the room. You can’t look at Yoongi any longer so you turn your face toward the ground, heat rushing to your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“I feel like…like you don’t want me, and…yeah.”

There’s a brief silence after you finish lamely – only two or three seconds pass before you hear Yoongi drop his headphones and then his hands are cupping your elbows. He pulls you into the small room.

“Princess – hey,” he says, quietly but with some urgency in his tone. He waits for you to lift your head enough to meet his eye. “Is that what this is all about?”

You nod, suddenly feeling small under his gaze. Yoongi has a weird look on his face and you honestly can’t tell if he’s about to scold you or start crying or both. He lifts his hands and brushes your cheeks with his thumbs, dark eyes searching yours.

“You’ve really been worrying about…about that?”

Tears burn at the back of your eyes but you keep looking back at him. “Yes. I’m sorry, I – “

You’re cut off when Yoongi crashes his lips against yours. He draws you further into the room and tight against his chest, his tongue dipping easily into your mouth when you open it to let out a quiet gasp. Relief rushes through your body, flooding through you like a dam’s been broken and your knees go soft at the taste of his mouth. Your hands grab at Yoongi’s shirt and he kisses you – hard – until you pull back to catch your breath.

“I want you,” he rasps out, breath hot as it fans over your face. He presses his forehead to yours. “I don’t want to rush you – but I don’t want you to question that. Ever.”

You’re feeling wobbly on your feet; Yoongi sets his hands on your hips and you think he’s doing it to steady you but then he pushes you backward.

“Been dreaming about this – what I’d do when I finally get you alone,” he murmurs as his thumbs press against your hipbones.

You follow the pressure of his hands, moving in small steps until the back of your thighs hit the table under the microphone. Yoongi cups your chin in one hand and leans in, lips nearly brushing yours as he murmurs a quiet command.

“Sit, princess.”

***

Dazed, you take a seat on the smooth tabletop. Yoongi rests both palms on the table on either side of you and hovers for a moment – his lips dangerously close to yours as he gazes darkly into your eyes – before lowering himself to kneel on the carpet. A little anxious, you press your knees together.

“Wh-what are you – “

You fall silent as his hands slide up the back of your calves and pause briefly at the crook of your knees. Yoongi watches your expression carefully as his fingers travel further up to your thighs – and then higher, his movements slowing to a devastating crawl as he slips his hands under the skirt of your dress. Your lips part in surprise but you don’t stop him – you want this – and soon his fingers are curling around the waistband of your panties.

He keeps his eyes on you as you lift your hips slightly so he can pull your panties down. Your heart is pounding in your throat as he slips them off at your ankles and leans in to press a kiss to one of your knees.

“Yoongi – you don’t have to…”

“I know I don’t have to,” he cuts you off, his voice low and even. “I want to.”

Yoongi reaches for your waist and gently tugs your hips toward him – not enough to really move you, but just enough to show you where he wants you to go. He brings his hands back to your knees and his eyes flick to meet yours as he ghosts his lips over the top of your thigh.

“Let me show you how much I want to. Can I do that?”

Shakily – and before you lose your nerve – you nod, press your palms back against the table and start to ease your legs apart for him. Yoongi keeps his eyes on yours as you carefully scoot your ass to the edge of the table, your cheeks burning when your skirt scrunches higher and leaves you totally exposed. You see Yoongi’s gaze shift and settle between your legs and you drop your head back for a moment. Your mouth feels dry and you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling desperately vulnerable and slightly terrified despite how turned on you are.

You think you can’t bear to look at him – until you feel a gentle kiss against your inner thigh and your curiosity gets the best of you.

Yoongi’s lips are parted, his tongue working at one corner of his mouth and his fingers are slow where they trail over the soft skin between your legs. Maybe he can tell how on edge you are, you think, because he takes his time easing you into the sensation of his touch on these hidden, precious parts of you. He leans his cheek against the inside of your leg and runs his knuckles along the crux of your thigh – only inches away from your exposed core.

“So fucking pretty…”

Yoongi’s murmur reaches your ears and you twitch involuntarily, heat roiling in your belly when you see the hungry look in his eyes as he watches your reaction. You wonder if he’s hard and the thought makes you tremble. Your abs go taut and you raise your knees higher, wider for him, your bashfulness melting away as you find yourself suddenly eager to spur on whatever’s coming.

Yoongi doesn’t keep you waiting long. He centers himself in front of you, bringing his palms to graze the skin just above where your ass meets the table. Your breath catches when you feel the pad of his thumb glide over your folds. His eyes are dark and hooded, looking black as ink as they wander over your sex. You can tell you’re already wet; your nerves and hormones are going haywire but you force yourself to hold perfectly still as he touches you.

Yoongi spreads you open with both of his thumbs, bringing his face close to your heat as he unfolds you. Totally exposed, you feel your opening tighten and you know Yoongi sees it. He lets out a shaky exhale, barely audible over your own labored breathing and then you watch as his lips part and his tongue laps out at the glistening pink flesh that he’s opened up – just to taste you. A shudder ripples through your body when you see Yoongi’s eyelids flutter shut.

He curses, low under his breath, before his grip on you tightens and he starts laying slow, continuous licks against you. Yoongi’s tongue is hot and gentle, somewhere between tender and teasing as he coaxes more wetness from your hole. Small as his movements are – the tip of his tongue just flicking over your bare opening in a steady, unrelenting rhythm – the quiet of the tiny recording booth is broken with small, wet sounds as he makes a mess of you.

Your breath leaves your chest in hot, erratic rushes as you watch Yoongi work. His lashes are long and dark against his skin, his breathing quiet as his tongue moves against you; the sight of him between your legs is both lovely and sinful and the contrast has your blood running thick with arousal.

Soon you can feel yourself dripping for him, slick running down in trails to the place where your skin meets the tabletop and catching the chilly draft in the room. You’re trembling and aching already, the tip of his tongue not nearly enough and you let out a needy keen for him to give you more.

Yoongi takes the hint. He slides his hands to hold the bottom of your thighs and hungrily slots his entire mouth against your pussy, lavishing it with a messy kiss that steals the breath from your lungs.

Your breath catches and for a second you think you might suffocate like this – legs spread for him, knees pulled apart and up toward your chest, totally frozen by the pleasure he’s giving you – until Yoongi groans against you, the sound and vibration so erotic that it jolts you from your thoughts.

You let out a loud moan, head dropping back as his tongue pushes through your folds to rub sinfully against your walls. Yoongi’s fingers dig into your thighs and he spreads them slightly further apart as he tilts his head to gain even deeper access to your heat.

“Y-Yoongi – ah – “

He hums into your folds and nestles his tongue deeper. A lovely tightness is growing in your belly. It’s all you can do to keep it under control, your efforts suddenly doubled when Yoongi pulls back slightly to raise his head and plant a kiss directly on your clit. The touch of his lips sends a lightning bolt of pleasure through you, so potent you wonder how you’ll handle any more. He drops his chin again and runs his tongue in a white-hot strip up the center of your soaked core before pressing his mouth to your mound.

Yoongi’s tongue moves against your clit in quick, firm licks and within seconds your thighs are shaking. He closes his lips to gently suck on the bud – just for a few moments, but it’s enough to ruin you. You choke out a sob as he moves to hold you by the hips, your thighs now resting on his shoulders as he opens his mouth and undulates the flat of his tongue against your clit in wicked, mind-melting waves.

In no time you’re nearly blind with pleasure and teetering at the brink of release – but still your body craves more. Your hips buck forward involuntarily and you place a hand on Yoongi’s head to steady yourself; you move to take it away but he’s quick to stop you.

He covers your hand with his, guiding your fingers to thread into his hair as he rasps against your core.

“Use me,” Yoongi pants, tongue still working your clit around his words. “Ride my face – wan’ you to.”

Something snaps inside of you at the urgent, husky sound of his voice. You grip his silky hair between your fingers and start to roll your hips, a stuttering moan escaping your throat as you grind against him. Yoongi lowers his chin to set his jaw and push his tongue inside you again; his nose is pressed against your clit as his slick muscle fucks into you and within moments you feel your walls tightening. You ride his tongue as long as you can hold out, hips rutting erratically and then his name falls from your lips – two, three times – sweet as a prayer as you come into the heat of his mouth.

Your orgasm spreads like wildfire, emanating out from deep in your core to reach your toes and fingertips. An electric feeling ripples up your spine, standing the fine hairs on the back of your neck on end as you lift your chest to make an arch with your upper body. The place where Yoongi’s mouth connects with your pussy throbs with liquid heat and though you’re outrageously, instinctually desperate to be filled in some way, you wonder faintly if you could even handle it. Just the thought of how he might feel inside you draws a breathy whine from your throat.

Spurred on by the sounds you’re making, Yoongi lays into you – burrowing his face tighter against your core as he pulls your hips toward him. You fall down to your elbows, pulse pounding in your ears as your orgasm turns to sweet aftershocks and your muscles go lax for a moment – until Yoongi’s frenzied mouth edges you into hypersensitivity. The continued pressure is pleasurable and hot but electric; a gasp leaves your lips when he finds your clit with his tongue again and your thighs lock around his head.

“Holy fuck, that’s – OK – “

You’re certain Yoongi can get you to come again but you risk losing your mind first, you decide. Cursing in English, you manage to get your fingers back in his hair and push him from your core. His mouth is wet and hot against the inside of your thigh for a moment and then Yoongi’s up from his knees, leaning over the edge of the table to pull you close.

You meet him hungrily, the taste of your sex heavy on his tongue as you take his kiss. His hands grip your sides, thumbs brushing just beneath your breasts until you pull at his wrists to bring his palms against the cups of your bra. You push your tits forward and smirk when he groans into your mouth. You reach down between your bodies and immediately find his length hard and pushing against his jeans. Your mind goes blank; you mold your hand to cup his shape and Yoongi bucks into you briefly before you move to tug at his belt buckle –

***

But then Yoongi’s fingers are around your wrists. He breaks the kiss and pushes his hips backward, away from where he holds your hands with a gentle grip.

“I don’t – don’t have a condom,” he pants.

Mind fogged with want, it takes you a second to compute what he’s saying. Finally you nod in a dazed way and Yoongi releases your wrists; you reach your hands out automatically as soon as they’re free, gesturing for him to come close and Yoongi steps between your legs to press his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry…“

“It’s OK,” you say breathlessly, bringing your hands to rest at the back of Yoongi’s neck. You rub your thumb against the short hairs there. “It’s fine, Yoongs.”

“I don’t want you to worry, though…“

“I won’t worry.”

“But – “

“I was just stuck in my head, that’s all,” you explain, pausing to press a kiss to his soft mouth. “OK? I’m not worried now. Promise.”

He nods, brow slightly sweaty where it connects with your forehead. Yoongi carefully smooths your skirt down over your thighs and you listen as his breathing evens out. His hands come to rest on your hips, palms heavy and warm through the fabric of your dress.

“Want you to tell me next time.”

You lean back just enough to see his face. “Hm?”

“When you get stuck in your head,” Yoongi clarifies, pushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. “About anything. I wanna know, OK?”

There’s a curious tugging sensation in your belly and your whole body softens. Your heart beats against your breastbone – not with anxiety this time, but with something just as potent.

“I get…in my head too, sometimes,” he adds, his gaze solemn. “It gets worse when no one knows.”

There are words you want to say but instead you pull him close again, eyes slipping shut at the first brush of his lips on yours. You were aiming for chaste but then a heady warmth washes over you; Yoongi cups your jaw and your hands drift down to trace the lines of his chest before fisting in his shirt. He opens his mouth for you when you beg at his lower lip but there’s no urgency when his tongue caresses yours – his kiss is languid, tender, unrushed.

When Yoongi finally pulls back, your cheeks are warm and your limbs heavy. He peers into your eyes, searching.

“Is there anything else going on, princess?”

You want to tell him about what happened with Yeonjun at the dorm. You want to tell him how your heart aches for your friendship with Jooheon. There’s so much you want to say – and do – but you stay quiet and shake your head. There’s time, you think – time for everything, you hope.

You place a final peck on his lips and fix him with a small pout. “Can we order food now?”

Yoongi huffs out a laugh, taking a step back to let you hop off of the tabletop. “I think I’ll pass out if we don’t.”

***

You have a hard time falling asleep later that night.

It’s almost 2 in the morning when your phone buzzes. You roll to one side, leaning over the edge of your mattress to pick up your phone from where it lies on the hardwood floor of your bedroom. It’s a text from Yoongi; you unplug the charger and settle onto your back before swiping your thumb over your screen.

There’s a link to an audio file, and one short message:

MYG [1:40]: so you don’t forget

Curious, you click on the link.

You can’t tell what it is at first. There’s the unmistakable sound of breath – soft, uneven rushes of air; there’s the muffled thump of something coming in contact with a microphone. Even quieter in the background, you can just barely make out the sound of…something you can’t quite put your finger on – ticking? Crackling? You can’t find a word that feels right to describe it – it’s rhythmic, faint but strangely…wet.

You’re about to close the file and text Yoongi when you hear it: a soft, insistent whine.

Your whine.

The realization hits you in a dizzying rush. You take in a sharp lungful of air, mirroring the you on the recording who utters a shaky gasp.

You pause the audio, pressing your phone to your chest as your cheeks flush with heat. Your mind races.

The recording booth. The microphone. Yoongi had been about to record a verse when you…

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, torn between embarrassment, shock and curiosity. You have half a mind to call Yoongi and scold him – but the other half is quickly distracted by the thought of Yoongi’s mouth, hot and relentless between your thighs…

You lift your phone and press play, setting it beside you as you wiggle into a comfortable position. There’s a brief period of silence and then your abs clench at the sound of Yoongi’s husky groan, mingled with the cry of pleasure that ripped from your chest just hours earlier. The wet sounds become louder – wetter – and soon you’ve slipped one hand beneath the fabric of your sleep shorts.

You don’t remember the last time you touched yourself. Driven by the sound and the memory of Yoongi going down on you, you use your fingers to relearn the curves and folds of your sex – imagining it was Yoongi’s tongue instead.

You find your clit and imagine Yoongi’s hand; eventually you bury two fingers inside your heat and imagine even more…

You come at the sound of his voice, bucking into your fingers and arching up off the bed at the ghost of his demand: “Use me.” Your face burns from the rush of your orgasm and at the desperation of your cries, captured with perfect clarity on the recording; you hear yourself babbling Yoongi’s name and you move your lips to echo the sound.

A warm, tranquil feeling washes over you when the recording ends. You should call Yoongi, you think. Instead you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep – for the first time in weeks.

***

Chapter Text

“Um…hello?”

Your voice is timid as you answer the phone lying beside your keyboard, a hint of confusion in your tone. The landline in the studio space – in any of the studios you’ve worked in at BigHit – has never rung before now and you have no idea who would even be able to call it. 

“Hello – I’m sorry to disturb you, miss. This is reception calling?”

You pause, a little thrown off at the way the woman on the phone ends the statement like a question.

“…OK, hi. This is studio 5C.”

“I’m aware. I’m calling because you have a visitor?”

Now you’re really confused. “A visitor? Here?”

“Yes, miss. Normally I wouldn’t allow an unscheduled visit like this, but he’s…ah – recognizable?“

You pick up on the tightness in her voice and figure you shouldn’t draw out the line of questioning any longer. From her brief description, there’s only a few people who could possibly be waiting for you in the lobby.

“No worries. I’ll be right down. Thank you.”

You save your work and grab your jacket from the hook by the door, slinging it over your shoulders as you enter the hallway. It’s Tuesday, and you’ve spent most of the morning bouncing between meetings and long stretches of spacing out as you down cups of stale coffee from the lounge. You’ve been in better spirits this week, but still more distracted than you’d like to be – especially since you need to get your shit together for this song-writing thing you’ve been sucked into. You’re not totally sure what awaits you downstairs, but you figure a short break of any kind might be just what you need today.

A quick ride on the elevator brings you to the ground floor of the BigHit building where you push past a crowd of men in suits. When you reach the lobby, you don’t see anyone standing at the front desk; the receptionist there is on the phone again, presumably dealing with some other issue. You scan the large room until your eyes fall on a lanky figure stood near a cozy-looking constellation of armchairs and potted plants.

Your feet carry you quickly to where Minhyuk stands, hands jammed in the back pockets of his black jeans. He’s dressed in a pair of Vans and a heavy, worn-looking hoodie; you give the receptionist some credit for recognizing him even with a ballcap pulled low over his eyes, almost hiding a pair of glasses.

Even with part of his face obscured, you can tell something’s up: Minhyuk is always brimming with energy but now he just stands, shuffling from one foot to the other as you approach. A pit forms in your stomach before you even reach him.

“Hey…”

You greet your friend timidly, still trying to get a read on him.

“Hey,” he responds. He presses his lips into a thin smile. “I would hug you, but…”

You follow his gaze over your shoulder to where the receptionist looks on curiously from behind her desk. You relax a bit, huffing out a laugh when you turn back to Minhyuk.

“Can we go somewhere?”

He asks the question suddenly, like he’s been sitting on it for a while. You nod.

“Yeah, of course…come on.”

You lead Minhyuk out onto the street, both of you donning facemasks against the midday crowd and the current air quality in Seoul. It’s unseasonably chilly today and threatening to rain at any moment; you pull your jacket tight around you as the two of you make your way to a small restaurant around the corner. It’s a strange little place you like to visit sometimes, mostly late at night – they advertise their specialty in American foods like burgers and fries but make their real money on bowls of intensely spicy jjamppong.

You greet the grey-haired woman behind the counter with a bow and take a seat at the back of the shop. You haven’t had lunch yet and you know Minhyuk can always eat, but you stick to the barley tea that the woman brings out a few moments later. She leaves the two of you alone without asking for your orders; you’re fairly sure she recognizes you as staff from BigHit.

Minhyuk pulls off his mask and pours your tea. You watch quietly as his long, nimble fingers handle the ceramic pot with care.

“Minnie…is everything OK?”

He nods and waits while you pour for him. He tugs off his hat and you realize he’s had his hair dyed a dark, rich brown.

“Everything’s fine. I wanted to see you, that’s all.”

You aren’t totally convinced by this statement but it puts you somewhat at ease. “So you decided to swing by for lunch?”

Minhyuk shrugs sheepishly, lips curving to reveal a hint of a toothy smile. “Yeah. I guess.”

“I’m honored. And surprised – how did you find time to come out here?”

“I’m off today. We have our first show of the tour on Friday so they’re letting us rest a bit.”

“Wow,” you breathe, reaching for his hand to give it a quick squeeze. “That’s so exciting! Do you feel ready?”

He nods easily. “Yeah, definitely. Will you come cheer for us?”

“Of course. I’m honestly hurt that you haven’t sent me my free tickets yet.”

“Would you really come see us??”

You lean over the table, peering solemnly into his eyes. “Are you kidding? I will be there, getting in all of the fan cams, screaming my head off when Changkyun flashes his abs.”

A giggle bubbles out of Minhyuk, his cheeks dimpling in a way that makes your heart swell. You grin back at him.

“You braved enemy territory just to have lunch with me, so it’s the least I can do.”

“That’s true. I was worried the receptionist would kick me out.”

You both temper your grins with long sips of tea. Minhyuk slowly sets his cup back down and rubs a thumb against the woodgrain of the table, regarding you with a long look. Something shifts in the air between you and you can almost predict what he’s about to say.

“Jooheon…he won’t talk about you, Y/N-ah.”

You brush a piece of hair behind your ear, swallowing back the lump that forms in your throat as soon as Minhyuk’s comment registers. Your lips twitch with the effort it takes not to break your composure and you fix your eyes on the tiny blue cranes painted on the teapot before you. Minhyuk watches you quietly.

“He won’t even talk to Shownu.”

You glance up at your friend. “But - Joo tells him everything...”

Minhyuk just nods, and the pit in your stomach grows heavier. You break eye contact again, too ashamed to look him in the eye.

“What happened, Y/N-ah?” he asks gently.

You give a small shake of your head. “I don’t know, Minnie. Everything got all…fucked up.”

Minhyuk doesn’t swear very often but he doesn’t react when you curse. He leans forward and takes the teapot to fill your cup again while you think.

“We were together, but…not together, you know? Just…hooking up. You knew that,” you say slowly, looking to Minhyuk for confirmation and he nods once. “But we were always friends first, or – or that’s what I thought, but…I guess he wanted something else.”

“He told you that?”

You exhale heavily through your nose. “Yeah. He did. And I swear, Minnie – I swear I didn’t know he felt differently. He showed up at my place, saying all this stuff about us and…God, it was bad.”

You rub a hand over your forehead, physically uncomfortable just at the memory of that night. Minhyuk shifts in his chair and folds his arms.

“You really had no clue that Jooheon was in love with you?”

The blood drains from your face as you gape at Minhyuk. “Did – did he say that?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “No. But it was pretty obvious to the rest of us – that he had serious feelings. When you said you were leaving Starship, he was ready to do anything to keep you in his world.”

You breathe through a wave of guilt, so potent it makes you feel sick. “I…I didn’t know.”

You friend regards you carefully, chewing at the inside of his cheek like he’s trying to decide whether or not he should believe you. You scoot your chair in close to the table and reach for his hand again.

“Please, Minhyuk – I know everything is messed up but I wouldn’t lie to you on something like this,” you press, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand. “I couldn’t. Not to you, and not to Jooheon. You’re both too important.”

Something strange flashes in Minhyuk’s eyes for a brief moment but he flips over his palm and takes your fingers in his. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“When did he come to your apartment?”

“Weeks ago,” you reply. “A little while after I saw you at that fundraiser. He showed up after midnight. He’d been drinking…”

Minhyuk winces. “Yikes.”

“Yeah. He said a lot of crazy stuff…we both did,” you explain, holding Minhyuk’s gaze. “I know he’s hurting…but I am, too, Minnie. I felt like he hid a lot of stuff from me and it all came out in the ugliest way.”

He squeezes your hand. “Have you talked to him since then?”

You shake your head. Minhyuk lets go of your fingers to take a long draw from his cup of tea. You watch as he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek as he thinks about what to say next.

“So I guess I’m not the only one you haven’t been texting then…”

The strange look returns to Minyuk’s eyes and you recognize it this time: he’s wounded. Minhyuk is usually so sunny and positive and it kills you to see him upset. You draw your arms in close to your sides and hug your middle.

“I’m sorry. I’m a shit friend.”

One corner of his mouth quirks up but then he presses his lips together. “You’re not.”

“Yes, I am. The shittiest. I said I would call – “

“And text.”

 “– and text, and I didn’t. I’m sorry, Minnie.”

Minhyuk crosses his arms again. “I just wish you’d said something to me. Maybe I could have helped.”

“I know,” you whine, thunking your elbows down on the tabletop and clapping your hands over your face. “If you don’t want to be friends anymore, I understand.”

He ignores your dramatic comment. “I started to think BigHit had you chained up in one of their studios.”

You slump back in your chair. “No. I wish I could use that excuse.”

Minhyuk smirks and rolls his eyes. “I’ll get over it someday. Just talk to me from now on, OK?”

You nod, a bud of warmth blooming in your chest. If you weren’t in public you’d leap over the table and hug your friend. You refill Minhyuk’s cup with tea and give him a timid smile, glad to see the storminess gone from his sweet face.

“So what has been keeping you so busy?” he asks.

A loaded question, these days. You scratch at your ear.

“Work, I guess – feels like I have new projects all the time,” you say lightly. “I spend like, all my time in the studio.”

“So it’s busier than Starship?”

“Definitely.”

“Do you still hang out with Songhee-ssi?”

“Yeah,” you reply with a grin. Songhee had met most of the members on a few occasions during your time at Starship. “She’s the same.”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

You swallow. “Ah – I don’t really have time for that kind of thing right now…”

Minhyuk narrows his eyes and leans forward slightly, watching as you fiddle with your teacup. You do your best to keep your face neutral. His mouth falls slightly open.

“You are seeing someone,” he says incredulously.

“No, I’m not,” you say firmly, cursing the flush in your cheeks. You cross and recross your legs under the table. “Seriously, I’m just…always at work.”

Your friend nods slowly, his features evening out into a look of understanding. “Hm. So it’s someone at BigHit.”

Shit.

“Minhyuk – “

“It’s alright!” he says, a hint of laughter in his voice as he holds up both hands. “I get it – it’s hard to meet people outside of work, especially in this industry.”

You purse your lips, unwilling to say anything more.

“You can tell me, you know,” he says carefully after taking a sip of his tea. “I won’t say anything to the members.”

You snort. “Bullshit. You love gossip.”

Minhyuk fixes you with a grin. “So there is something to tell, then!”

You huff, turning pink again as your mouth goes dry. “That’s not – I’m not – “

“I wouldn’t tell Jooheon,” Minhyuk clarifies. “Not if it would hurt him.”

You shake your head, not wanting to spoil the conversation but certain that there’s no good that could come from saying anything about your relationship with Yoongi. There’s not much to tell, you think, and you’re sure Minhyuk is being genuine but the members are too close to withhold things like this from one another: if one knows, they’ll all know. You’ve probably already said too much.

“It’s nothing, Minnie,” you assure him with a smile. “Really. Now do you wanna order lunch, or should we keep pretending that your stomach hasn’t been growling this whole time?”

You return to the BigHit building feeling a little lighter. Minhyuk gave you a tight hug at the back of the restaurant and agreed to send you details about the upcoming tour so you could make plans to see the members perform. You’re excited about this idea, obviously – you watched the group develop so much over the course of a year and you want nothing more than to see your friends succeed…but you also know it means you have to start figuring things out with Jooheon.

The thought sets a curl of anxiety in your gut but you push it away as you ride the elevator to the third floor. You have to meet the TXT members and observe their afternoon vocal practice. They’ve finished up with most of the studio work necessary for their debut release but still have a long way to go before they’re ready to perform live – you know all their work intimately at this point and want to keep an eye on how the tracks might translate to the stage.

The members are waiting in their usual practice space. Fresh from three hours of dance practice, they greet you with warm smiles and tired eyes. You move to settle yourself by the piano but pause in your tracks after doing a quick headcount.

“Hey – there’s only four of you?”

Hueningkai looks over when you speak up, his eyes wide with something like apprehension. He looks away quickly and scratches at the back of his neck, leaving you to glance at the others.

“Where’s Yeonjun-ah?”

Beomgyu and Taehyun exchange glances before looking to their leader. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Um…hyung said he didn’t feel good after practice,” Soobin says in his low, soft voice. He gives a small cough. “Said he wasn’t coming…I think he’s still upstairs with his manager-nim.”

You hold Soobin’s gaze for a few moments, trying to read his expression. He stares back placidly though you can see his Adam’s apple move as he swallows.

“Soobin…”

His face breaks a little bit at the sound of his name and he looks down at his feet. A nasty mix of irritation and worry squeezes at your chest but you keep a calm face, taking wide strides toward the door.

“Come on,” you order, though the leader is already moving to follow you. “In the hallway. You guys get started without us.”

The other members watch as you and Soobin step out into the dim hall. You close the door behind you and turn to face him square on and immediately his face crumples with concern.

“Noona, I – “

“What is going on?” you cut him off. “He needs to be at this practice. You know this.”

“I know, noona,” he whines. “He said he was feeling sick, but…”

You pause. “But what?”

Soobin looks down again and you see the muscles of his jaw clench. He rubs at the bridge of his nose. You hold back a flare of frustration and try to take a gentle tone.

“Soobin-ah…what did he tell you?”

He shakes his head. “N-nothing.”

You’re not convinced. Chewing at the inside of your cheek, you push your hands through your hair and huff out a sigh. Your mind starts to race, images of your recent run-in with Yeonjun filling your mind’s eye as you start to wonder how much he told the other members.

Soobin shuffles his feet against the floor.

“Noona,” he says softly. “I think…I don’t know what to do. He’s going to get in trouble, and I don’t want that, but I – I didn’t know how to convince him.”

You feel sorry for Soobin. He looks genuinely torn, you think, as you wait for him to say more. He gnaws at his lip for a few quiet moments.

“Once he found out you were coming to practice, he…he said he couldn’t go.”

You clench your jaw. “He said that?”

Soobin nods.

“In front of the other members?”

He makes a pained face and opens his mouth to speak again but you’re already moving – brushing past Soobin’s shoulder as you make for the stairs at the end of the hall. He calls out after you but your heart is pounding in your ears and you’re through the door to the landing before he can say anything else.

A minute later, you shove open the door to the dance practice-room at the end of the fifth-floor hall. It flies open with a loud, mechanical creak as you storm inside.

Yeonjun is sitting opposite the mirror, his back against the wall with his arms slung over top of his knees. He’s alone; from the unimpressed look on his face, you briefly wonder if he was expecting you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Your voice comes out sharp enough to surprise both of you. Yeonjun curls his lip and looks away.

“Y/N-ssi, I’m sick.”

“No you’re not,” you counter quickly, stopping in the center of the room. “You need to go downstairs. Now.”

“I’m sick,” he repeats – louder this time, almost a growl. He turns his dark eyes on you. “I’m not going.”

You’re already shaking, veins alight with adrenaline as a tremor runs through your chest with each breath you draw. You take a step closer.

“Junnie – “

“Don’t call me that,” he bites. He gets to his feet and draws himself up to his full height. “I’d rather we use honorifics.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

His words sting but your anger pushes you past the hurt. You cross your arms.

“Fine. You need to go to practice, Yeonjun-ssi,” you say as evenly as possible. “Your coach and your other members are waiting on you.”

“I don’t care.”

“You haven’t debuted yet, you cannot blow things off like this. You are going to get yourself in trouble if – “

“I don’t. Care.”

“Yes you do!!”

You’re almost yelling now. Yeonjun’s pretty mouth twists in a grimace.

“You care, probably more than any trainee in the industry. You wanna be mad at me? Fine. But don’t fuck this up for yourself or your members – “

He scoffs, raising his voice to meet yours. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“It’s my job to tell you what to do, actually – ”

“Your job?” Yeonjun spits. He lets out a quick, humorless laugh. “Right. I forgot how seriously you take your job – “

“What is that supposed to mean??”

“I can’t believe you’re yelling at me for skipping practice when you ran out of the dorm the other week. Like you couldn’t stand to be around me.”

“Yeonjun – “

“You’re my noona but you couldn’t even stick out one honest conversation.”

“It’s a conversation we can’t have,” you say, voice shaking though you try to keep it level.

“Stop SAYING that!!” he bellows.

You freeze, shocked by his outburst.

“If you cared so much about your job, you wouldn’t have let me develop feelings for you in the first place,” Yeonjun continues in a ragged voice. “And if you cared about me, you wouldn’t have bailed like you did.”

You open your mouth, unsure if you’re about to yell or throw up or cry – but then a loud thunk sounds from behind you. You spin around.

Kim Seokjin is in the corner of the room, his arm stretched out behind him where he’s just let the heavy door fall shut. He looks between you and Yeonjun.

Nausea roils in your stomach. Your mouth goes dry as the older man edges into the room.

“S-Seokjin-ssi,” you stammer. “I’m sorry, w-we were…we were just – “

Jin’s face is unreadable, his brow smooth and jaw relaxed as his eyes scan over the two of you. He’s got a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“J-hope-ah and I have this room booked for the afternoon,” he says evenly. “Am I interrupting something?”

A brief silence falls over the three of you. You can’t bear to look at Yeonjun so you start toward the door.

“We were just leaving,” you say, avoiding Jin’s eyes as you go. “We’re late for practice anyway. It won’t happen again.”

He watches as you pass and slip into the hallway. A few moments later, you hear the door open again and a set of quick footsteps follows you toward the elevators.

“Noona – “

Yeonjun’s voice comes from behind you – soft, and full of concern this time. He jogs to catch up until he’s at your shoulder.

“Noona, I didn’t mean – I didn’t know he was – “

“Don’t, Junnie,” you say shakily – already lapsing back into using his nickname. You clench your fists at your side. “Let’s just go.”

“Shit – I’m sorry,” he pleads, moving in front of you to try and slow your pace. “Y/N-ah – “

You catch a glimpse of Yeonjun’s face and see there’s a pained look in his eye – but still you sidestep him easily and keep walking down the hall. He reaches for your arm but you quickly pull away.

“Don’t,” you repeat, the sharpness in your voice hiding how you’re really feeling. “We need to get to practice, and I – “

You’re interrupted when the elevator doors slide open, just feet away from you and Yeonjun. Yoongi steps out and you halt in your tracks.

He’s got his phone in his hands and at first he’s not looking where he’s going; he doesn’t look up until he’s right in front of you. Yoongi sees you there and his face brightens.

“Hey! I was just texting – “

He pauses, eyes drifting over your shoulder to where Yeonjun is stood just a few steps back. You glance at the younger man and see his face is already schooled into a carefully pleasant expression. Yoongi coughs.

“Ah – I was texting Hobi-yah,” he finishes quickly. “Have you seen him?”

You shake your head, afraid to speak as you feel your throat tightening.

“Seokjin-sunbae is waiting for him in the practice room,” Yeonjun pipes up. “He kicked us out just a minute ago.”

Yoongi nods and slips his phone into his back pocket. He looks at you carefully, a tiny line of concern appearing between his brows when he sees your lip tremble. You hear Yeonjun clear his throat awkwardly.

“Um – I’m gonna take the stairs, noona. I’ll see you at practice?”

You nod without turning around and then Yeonjun’s footsteps recede back down the hallway. Panicking, you try to step around Yoongi to get into the elevator but he stops you, the fingers of one hand wrapped loosely around your wrist.  

“Hey – you OK?” he says, hushed.

You pause, one foot still in the hall as you shake your head fervently, trying your best to put on a smile. “No, yeah! Yeah, I’m – I’m fine…”

Your voice tails off into a breathy, high-pitched crack and your vision blurs. Before you can protest, Yoongi ushers you into the lift and as soon as the elevator doors slide shut you burst into tears.

Eyes wide, Yoongi steps close and pulls you against him. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and let out a sob, unable to help yourself as you go lax in his arms. You feel his hand cradle your head.

“Whoa, Y/N-ah – what happened??”

Yoongi’s voice is higher than usual, laced with worry. You can’t speak; you press yourself tighter to him, tears and spit already dampening the soft fabric of his flannel as your shoulders shudder with your labored breath. Yoongi squeezes you and gently curls his fingers against your scalp, easing you with a soothing touch.

“Is it Yeonjun-ah?”

You hold your breath in your chest, trembling with the effort it takes to bite back another cascade of tears. The elevator starts moving and you assume someone must have called it to another floor.

Yoongi takes you by the shoulders and moves you back just far enough so he can see your face. You shake your head.

“N-no, nothing happened,” you croak, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

Yoongi blinks, his lips slightly parted as he searches your eyes.

“Is it – is it me?”

You shake your head harder and he lets out a puff of air – relieved, you think, but still full of worry. His brow crumples as a fresh pair of fat tears slip over your lower lids and make tracks down your cheeks.

“Then talk to me,” he murmurs, his voice tight as he borders on begging. Yoongi cups your face with both hands. “Talk to me, baby – ”

Your breath hitches and your heart thuds double-time in your chest. A jittery feeling lights through you and you automatically pull away, moving toward the back of the compartment.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, your voice still thick with emotion. “I promise, I just…got overwhelmed for a second.”

Yoongi’s hands hang in the air for a moment before he lets them fall by his side; he doesn’t say anything more but you can still feel his eyes on you. You swipe at the wet patches of skin on your cheeks as the elevator comes to a stop, still reeling from the sudden swell of nervous energy. Yoongi looks on as you do your best to smooth down your hair.

The elevator doors open to the second-floor hallway – an area you rarely see as it mostly houses staff from the legal and financial departments of the company. Two women in pale pink facemasks are waiting just outside the doors; you exchange a polite bow with them before exiting the lift to let them on in your place.

You make it about five steps – completely unsure of where you’re actually going – before you feel a hand at your elbow. Your head swivels to the right.

“What’re you – ??”

You thought you’d left Yoongi behind in your blind rush to get space – but apparently not. His expression is stoic as he tucks his fingers between your arm and your side, hovering close to you and matching your stride down the hall. He cranes his neck to peer into a conference room and looks around quickly before pulling you inside.

You nearly stumble at the sudden change of momentum. “Yoongi – “

He closes the door behind you, moving swiftly and quietly though the room is empty and the floor seems pretty dead. He turns to face you just as you open your mouth to speak again but the wild look in his eye has you faltering.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his tone soft but urgent. “For this, for following you, I – I just…”

He trails off, fisting both his hands in his hair briefly as he curses under his breath. You realize he’s worked up – rattled, even – and feel yourself soften. He lets out a heavy exhale and starts again.

“If you want to walk out, I won’t stop you again. I promise,” Yoongi says carefully. He slips his hands in his pockets and chews at his bottom lip. “But you don’t…you don’t seem fine, and I want – I, um…”

He starts to stumble over his words again and you can practically see the resolve draining from his body. There’s a strange squeezing feeling in your belly and you think that if this were anyone else, you’d probably rip them a new one for chasing you down like this.

But this is Yoongi – Yoongi who’s already weathered tense, vulnerable moments with you and still seems to want to stick around. Yoongi who struggles, sometimes, to speak plainly about his feelings but always listens to yours. Yoongi whose eyes are as soft as they are disarming, having long lost whatever hard guise he once reserved for you.

You watch his eyelashes flutter as he blinks rapidly, mouth opening and closing as he reaches for the right words to say.

“I had an argument with Yeonjun-ah.”

Yoongi meets your eye, one hand buried in the hair at his nape. “…You did?”

You swallow thickly. “Yes. But I don’t…don’t want to talk about it – not really. If that’s OK.”

He nods, and the two of you stand silent for a moment – watching each other almost warily as the tension between you starts to wane. Yoongi looks calmer now but you don’t miss the way his left hand fidgets, his index finger digging at the cuticle of his thumb. His mouth twitches to the side.

You take one step forward and it’s like a spell is broken: Yoongi reaches for you with both hands, dragging you close by the sleeves of your jacket as you gravitate toward him. He cups your elbows and you hold his face in your palms, your foreheads meeting gently somewhere in the middle.  

“I’m sorry,” you breathe.

Yoongi says nothing – he just nudges his head tighter to yours and somehow just his closeness is enough. His familiar scent envelops you, the notes of his warm skin sending a ripple of relaxation down your spine. You want to kiss him but you’re hesitant to disturb whatever quiet, fragile thing is blooming in the stillness between you.

Yoongi breathes deeply through his nose and you can see the rise and fall of his chest. You let your eyes slip shut.

“I shouldn’t have chased you,” he says softly.

You let your hands drop to his shirtfront. “It’s OK – really. I’m not mad.”

You hear Yoongi swallow. “What I said – in the elevator, I…”

You tense slightly but will yourself to listen – to stay put, anchored by the feeling of Yoongi’s touch at your elbows and his chest beneath your hands.

“It just came out, when I called you…that,” he says carefully. “I’m sorry if it was wrong – “

“Yoongs – “

His hands squeeze a little tighter where he holds you. “I hate – I can’t stand seeing you like that. Seeing you sad. And I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable, either.”

It would be so easy to reassure him – to say “It’s fine! You didn’t” – but as much as you want to put him at ease, the words still on your tongue. You know it’s more complicated than that.

“I…don’t say things like that easily,” Yoongi continues, even quieter than before. He pauses. “I want you to know that. But if you ask me not to say it again, I won’t.”

There’s a question in his voice and you’re not sure you have an answer.

You don’t know why you hurried out of the elevator. You could blame it on the fight with Yeonjun, but that wouldn’t be entirely honest.

You can’t tell Yoongi what you don’t know. But you can ask for more time to figure it out.

“I’m not asking that.”

Yoongi lifts his head and his eyes flick to yours. You lift up on your toes briefly to press a soft kiss on his mouth – barely more than a graze of your lips on his.

“I panicked, I know – but I’m not asking that,” you say again. “I just need to think, and…I need you to give me another chance.”

There’s a pause – a long moment where you search the dark of his irises. Yoongi nods then, and there’s nothing left to say.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and breathe deeply at the place where his jaw meets his throat. Yoongi shifts his weight back on his heels to support you both standing while he holds you to his chest. You know you’ll both have to leave this room in a matter of moments – Yoongi has his schedule and you’re still due in vocal practice.

There’s no time for kisses, no room for more words; you let yourself lean against him and try to hold on to this feeling for when he’s not around.

“ Namjoon-ah!!”

Yoongi’s socked feet pad quickly across the hardwood floor of his room. Jin’s stretched out lazily on his bed; he glances over the top of his phone, apparently unphased by his roommate’s sudden outburst and he watches as Yoongi moves toward the door with his laptop cradled in his arms.

“Joon-ah?”

Yoongi exits into the hallway and starts making a beeline toward the living room. Before he reaches it, Namjoon pops his head out around the doorway to the kitchen.

“Why are you yelling?”

Yoongi’s not even bothered by the slightly exasperated tone in the younger man’s voice. He grins and pushes past Namjoon to place his computer down on the countertop.

“I finished the ending – PD-nim just texted and said the arrangement works,” he says, dragging his phone from the pocket of his jeans. “We record tomorrow.”

Yoongi draws up his notes app and hands it to Namjoon, who takes the phone and squints at the screen. He’s got glasses on.

“When was the last time you had your eyes checked?”

“Last year,” Namjoon mumbles, distracted.

“Do you need a new prescription?”

“Maybe.”

“You’ll get wrinkles if you – “

“Hyung. One thing at a time.”

Yoongi can’t help it – he’s excited. He’s been working on this track for ages and it feels like the process is about to come full circle. He’d been at his desk, tooling around with some beats just to keep himself distracted as he waited for Pdogg to email him back and confirm the studio session. Yoongi chews at his nail and paces a bit while Namjoon reads over his lyrics.

“How much coffee have you had?”

Yoongi pauses briefly. “A bit.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer. It’s 9am – a late hour for any of the members to still be at the dorm – and Yoongi honestly thinks it was worth it to stay up and push through the last several lines to finish the song. They’ve been bouncing around in his head for weeks – a few words, certain images that added up to an outro that wasn’t originally in the works for the track. He put it in an email to Pdogg around 7 with some notes about how it could all be arranged.

Namjoon hums as he finishes reading. He hands the phone back to Yoongi and pushes his hands through his ashy brown hair.

“It’s intense, hyung. I can’t wait to hear what it sounds like.”

Yoongi nods, crosses his arms anxiously. “Will you be there?”

Namjoon meets his eye. “What – tomorrow? In the studio?”

“Yeah. You helped me so much with the lyrics – I tweaked the second verse again and want you to hear it before it goes for mastering…”

“Oh,” Namjoon says – sounding pleasantly surprised. He nods and his dimples appear. “Then of course I’ll be there.”

“Be where??”

Yoongi twists his mouth to hide a pleased grin just as Hoseok appears, scooting into the kitchen dressed in brightly-colored sweats. He’s freshly showered and, as usual, is radiating an unnatural amount of energy and cheer. Jimin and Jungkook are still asleep, as far as Yoongi knows – but Hoseok looks ready to take on the day.

Yoongi fluffs at the hair on his crown and looks at the floor. “Ah – Pdogg thinks we can finally finish my solo track. I just have to record two verses tomorrow.”

Hoseok beams as he reaches into the fridge and draws out a bottle of chilled tea. “That’s great, hyung!”

Yoongi’s cheeks ache and he allows himself to smile. He has a hard time staying shy around Hoseok and he has to admit it feels good to get excited about something like this. He’s not sure he can stand to look anyone in the eye, though – so he turns his phone over and opens up his texts.

“Did you tell Y/N-ah yet?”

Yoongi’s thumb freezes, hovering just over your name where your thread of texts sits at the top of his inbox. He’d been messaging you late last night but the conversation tailed off when you sent him a selca from bed and he got so flustered he could only reply with emojis.

Namjoon’s looking at Yoongi now, his face carefully arranged into a casually curious expression. Yoongi locks his screen.

“Y/N-ah?” he says, slipping the phone into his pocket. “No, I haven’t talked to her – why?”

Namjoon isn’t phased. “You always seem to be looking for studio time with her. Thought you’d want her to be there, maybe.”

Yoongi turns toward the island in the kitchen – to reach for the bowl of fruit in the center of the table and also so he can avoid Namjoon’s eyes. He does his best to give a relaxed shrug of his shoulders.

“Oh – yeah. I did show her the lyrics a while ago…”

Yoongi grabs two tangerines and digs his thumb into the center of one to start peeling it. Namjoon is quiet behind him and he thinks maybe the subject will be dropped.

He glances up, though, and sees Hoseok peering at him. The dancer has his bottle of tea raised halfway to his mouth, his brown eyes fixed on Yoongi’s face with a mixture of interest and apprehension. Yoongi wills his own features to remain blank as he looks back at the younger man; Hoseok glances at Namjoon for a second and then shuffles away toward the living room.

“You should invite her tomorrow,” Namjoon continues. His voice is calm, almost warm. “You two are getting close, no?”

If he’s honest, Yoongi’s phone is burning a hole in his pocket right now – he’s itching to call you and give you an update on this song and see if you can be free tomorrow evening. He would have done so earlier but he was worried that he kept you up too late last night – or that he totally botched his response to the picture you sent.

Yoongi opened it around 2am and you looked painfully sweet – one cheek pressed against your pillow, the other half of your face carved in shadows and warm amber light. Your eyes were so wide and clear that he could see the reflection of your phone screen in them and he instantly wished he was there with you, in person. He wanted to see his own face reflected there instead.

Then he noticed your collarbone and the inch or two of cleavage below it, the way your tits were sitting high and full from the way you had your arm draped across you –

Yoongi was already frazzled at that point, getting by on adrenaline and caffeine and a little whiskey. The selca left him feeling brainless and now he wishes he’d gotten his shit together enough to call you.

He will call you, he thinks to himself – later today, probably, if he doesn’t run into you first. He pops two slices of tangerine into his mouth to bide his time before answering Namjoon’s question.

The two of you are getting close. Yoongi can’t deny that to Namjoon – one of the members he’s closest to, and also their leader. He knows he could probably tell Namjoon anything at this point – that he could trust him to listen and approach the situation thoughtfully.

But Yoongi is also keenly aware of the need to tread carefully here. He can sense that you’re opening up to him, in moments – matching the way he finds himself unfolding for you. But it’s a slow-going and  delicate process and Yoongi thinks that’s how it should be. He also thinks that you and Namjoon have your own friendship and Yoongi would never insert himself there by sharing information that you didn’t bring forward first.

He’s trying to be careful with all of this. So he deflects.

“Mm – ‘d be cool if she’s there,” he says around a mouthful of fruit. He swallows and walks past Namjoon. “Can you call her and ask if she can make it?”

You’re feeling a little nervous as you walk down the hall toward Genius Lab.

It’s only been two days since the debacle with Yeonjun; you’ve put your problems with him on the back burner (for now) but you’re still on delicate footing with Yoongi – or at least, you think you are.

So much has shifted between you in the last few weeks that it’s hard to keep track. You’ve flipped between longing, confusion, anxiety and plain passion so many times that you’re starting to worry if this thing with Yoongi is good for your health. But the worry is an afterthought compared to the things you feel when he’s around – things that make you do and say pretty stupid things, apparently.

You can’t stop thinking about your conversation in the second-floor conference room. You didn’t lie to Yoongi, per se – you just weren’t ready to tell him the whole truth about Yeonjun. It’s not wholly your truth to tell, anyway. This is what you told yourself afterward as you sat through vocal practice that afternoon – and while you laid awake later that night, still thinking about the look in Yoongi’s eye as he pled with you to let him into your head.

Then Yoongi texted you, and those thoughts vanished. They didn’t matter. What mattered – what matters – is what happens next. You think you’ll be fine if you can just stay in Yoongi’s orbit a little longer – if you can hold out for those private, precious parts of him you still haven’t learned yet.

You reach Yoongi’s studio and wonder what parts you might discover tonight. Namjoon initially invited you to this session – which was kind of weird, but you tried not to think about it too much. You called Yoongi last night and he made it clear that he wanted you there and that was enough to seal the deal. You don’t know exactly who or what awaits inside Genius Lab but you’re about to find out; aware that they might already be recording, you ease open the door and slip inside as quietly as you can.

The lights are dimmed in the main part of the studio. Namjoon and Pdogg are at the desk, their faces lit up by the glow of the monitors and the light coming in from the recording booth. Namjoon is standing above the producer seated in the chair; he turns at the soft sound of the door closing behind you and gives a small nod in greeting. They’re listening to playback and you don’t recognize the track right away.

Beyond the glass, you see Yoongi: arms folded, eyes cast downward as he stands with a pair of headphones over his ears. He moves in time with the beat – swaying slightly side to side, head dipping in a barely perceptible nod to the rhythm. Even from here you can see the muscles of his jaw working.

After a few moments, he lifts his head.

“I’ll take it again,” Yoongi says, adjusting the headset over his ears. “Can you raise the volume on my end?”

Pdogg gives him a thumbs-up to him through the glass. Namjoon glances back at you again as you move to lean your hip against the side of the couch.

“Do you want to come closer?” he says softly.

You shake your head. “Nah – don’t wanna throw him off.”

Namjoon nods, his eyes lingering on you for a second or two longer before he looks back at the screen where Pdogg is cueing up the track again. You spot Yoongi sipping from a glass – whiskey, you assume, judging by the color of the liquid – and then the song plays over from the chorus.

You know it’s the chorus because you know the lyrics. They’re the same ones you stumbled across on the day you met Yoongi – the ones that inadvertently caught your eye and tipped you into his world. They were beautiful then and they’re beautiful now.

But maybe beautiful isn’t the right word, you think as you watch Yoongi’s pale face lit up by the fluorescent lights in the recording booth. As you listen, you start to think that the song is a bit like him: lovely in a haunting, elegiac kind of way. You’re still lingering with this thought when he opens his mouth and starts in on the second verse.

You’ve heard Yoongi rap plenty of times, but never live. You’ve never seen him rap – period. You never really considered the visual element of recording art until now as you watch the way Yoongi’s face – his whole being – transforms when the lyrics start pouring out of him.

His eyelids lower until they’re almost closed and his head tilts to the side; though he’s leaned close to the mic, you can see his lip lift in a smirk – or a snarl maybe – as he spits something like venom into each line. The words come quick as water, brought to a boil by the way Yoongi charges each one with his breath. You can almost hear the air rattling up from his throat and through his teeth – rushing off from the tip of his tongue like he can barely hold the words back.

But you pay attention to Yoongi’s hands more than anything. You’ve seen his hands a thousand times but never really looked at the way they move. They flutter and dart with the rhythm of his words – sharp one moment, like weapons; precise like he’s conducting an invisible orchestra. You think of those hands arched gracefully over the keys of a piano; you think of them on your thighs and in your hair, long fingers moving light as a feather-touch though you’d be happy to take their bruises. He moves them now to emphasize certain beats as he raps and you can’t look away.

You’ve heard of Yoongi recording whole verses in one go. You know he’s more than capable of it but that’s not what’s happening tonight as he asks Pdogg for take after take. You know Yoongi’s a perfectionist – you are too, in some ways – but this seems like more than that. He’s insatiable, you think as you watch him attack each take; he seems hungry for a certain sound and you stand captivated with the other producers while he tries to find it. 

The session stretches well into an hour and at some point you creep forward to stand at Namjoon’s shoulder, your fascination overcoming your shyness. You think you may still be out of view, half-tucked behind Namjoon but Yoongi spots you in between takes and it makes your heart hammer.

His eyes are dark and sharp; his face betrays nothing when they land on you but the purposefulness of his gaze alone has you feeling strangely exposed. While Pdogg and Namjoon chat about tackling the outro of the song, Yoongi leans forward to rest his weight on his palms against the table under the mic. He watches your expression closely, thumbs drawing circles into the tabletop and your head swims with the memory of him taking you apart on that very surface.

You draw a sharp breath and hope the others can’t hear over the playback. A smirk hints at the corner of Yoongi’s mouth – only for a second, though, before he’s straightening up to stand. Yoongi takes a slow sip of whiskey, the fingertips of his free hand still grazing the table and you’re almost relieved when he finally looks away from your eyes to try another take.

If anything, he sounds hungrier when he starts back up again. It’s incredible to watch his tenacity and you try hard not to wonder how else he might put that appetite to work…

You distract yourself easily in conversation with Namjoon and Pdogg, asking questions about the senior producer’s process while you keep one eye on Yoongi in the booth. He seems somewhat satisfied after a little while longer on the mic and finally Pdogg beckons the rapper out into the main studio to hear the best takes.

Your stomach flips when Yoongi shuffles out from the recording booth. You can’t help but think that he looks a little extra dreamy tonight: dressed casually as usual in sweatpants and a t-shirt, he saunters out in a pair of Nike high-tops and you notice a thin silver chain around his neck. His dark hair is messy, maybe a little sweaty at his temples and his eyes look glittering black in the low light of the studio. You suck in your cheeks and force yourself to look away, jamming your hands into the back pockets of your jeans in an attempt to stop from reaching for him.

As Pdogg starts in on some suggestions about using distortion on the outro, Namjoon nods along but his eyes drift from you to Yoongi and back again. Eager to escape his sharp gaze, you shuffle to the back of the studio as casually as possible and drop down on to the couch. Yoongi takes a step toward you – just a single step – but halts just as Namjoon turns toward him. He rubs at his sideburn, the thick rings on his fingers glinting as he keeps his face carefully neutral.

You’re not entirely sure what Namjoon is picking up on – but then again, you think, the man has the IQ of a genius and you’re pretty sure there are waves of crazed sex hormones just rolling off of you right now. Could be something to do with those two things.

Either way, you have no idea what Namjoon does or doesn’t know about you and Yoongi and this definitely isn’t the time to be broadcasting any of it. You set your mind to playing it cool for the rest of the session, only chiming in with your nerdiest takes on the recording itself rather than Yoongi’s performance or his lyrics.

Or his voice. Or his hands. Definitely pushing any and all comments about his hands deep, deep down inside for now…

“It will be interesting to see how this fits with the rest of the album,” Pdogg remarks once he finally stands up from the monitor.

Yoongi and Namjoon nod in unison, glancing at each other.

“How is your song coming along?” Yoongi asks the younger man.

“Slow,” Namjoon smiles ruefully. “You write so much faster than me.”

“Mm. I had help getting this one out.”

Yoongi’s eyes flick to you as he answers and you flush. Pdogg looks around curiously.

“Should Y/N-ssi get a song-writing credit?” he asks with a soft chuckle.

You laugh nervously, confused. “N-no, what? I didn’t help. Really – “

Yoongi shrugs, turning back to the senior producer. “She’s helped both Namjoon-ah and me with writing, lately.”

“Um – wow, no – I wouldn’t say that,” you splutter. “I – “

“She is pretty useful to have around,” Namjoon says, a dimple forming in his cheek as he looks sidelong at Yoongi.

Yoongi just bobs his head and Pdogg smiles in a satisfied way, one finger brushing against his goatee.

“I knew you were working with Namjoon,” the senior producer comments to you. “But not Yoongi-yah as well.”

“That’s because I wasn’t,” you say quickly, face still warm. “I’m – I’m not.”

“Perhaps Yoongi means to suggest that Y/N-ssi merely helped him open up,” Namjoon says sagely. He pauses and casts you a slightly impish glance. “Regarding this song, at least…”

Yoongi scratches at the nape of his neck and looks back toward the entrance to the recording booth. He’s faced away from you but you can still make out the curve of his cheek where you think he’s hiding a smile. Pdogg glances at his watch then and you’re grateful when he changes the topic.

“It’s late. I have some things I have to do before I head home, so I’ll leave you all to wrap up,” the producer announces.

He makes his goodbyes as he heads for the door and Namjoon reaches for his bag. He slings it over his shoulder just as Pdogg disappears into the hall.

“Should I call a shuttle?” he says to Yoongi.

The older man shakes his head. “Nah. You go ahead, if you want – I’m going to stay for a while. Take another look at tracks for my mixtape.”

Namjoon nods slowly. “Mm. And Y/N-ssi?”

You shrug casually as he turns to look at you. “I’ll stay and drink his whiskey.”

Yoongi scoffs, despite the smile in his voice. “Did I say I was sharing?”

You’re feeling calmer now that Pdogg has left but still you look down at your hands to hide the grin that’s tugging at your lips. Namjoon laughs softly, reaching to clasp Yoongi’s hand.

“I’ll leave you two to fight it out,” he says. “Yoongi-hyung – thank you for the invite. I can’t wait to hear the finished track.”

Yoongi nods. “Thanks for coming. See you at the dorms?”

“Sure. Don’t stay here too late.”

There’s warmth in Namjoon’s eyes as he says goodbye, nodding to you on his way out. You see the line of Yoongi’s shoulders relax as soon as the door closes behind the older man.

You let out a lungful of air.

“Are you trying to torture me?”

Yoongi gives a short laugh, his eyebrows lifting toward his fringe as he meets your eye. “What did I do?”

You roll your eyes, slumping back against the couch cushions. “I regret everything I said about pretending I don’t exist when other people are around. Please go back to doing that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says evenly, shuffling toward the door with a teasing glint in his eye. He looks back at you over his shoulder as he lays a hand on the doorknob.

“I feel like I just had ten heart attacks,” you continue. “Between Namjoon and your little performance in that booth…”

Without taking his eyes off of you, Yoongi clicks the lock on the door into place. He navigates around the coffee table and lowers himself beside you; one of his arms comes to rest along the back of the couch behind your shoulders and you scoot in to sit right against him.

There’s already such a difference, you think – between the Yoongi you just saw on the mic and the one who’s here now, leaning in to lay a soft kiss on your mouth. The gentleness in the way he cups your knee with his hand is a far cry from the biting, razor-sharp swagger you witnessed in him just minutes earlier. The smell of his cologne hits you and your belly tightens with a sudden coil of heat, his closeness quickly rekindling your want. Just as you reach for his shirt front, however, he leans back.

Your lips part with a soft sound and Yoongi peers into your eyes.

“What did you think of the song?”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Um…I think…”

You reach for words, mouth opening and closing fruitlessly when none come to mind. Instead, you lay one hand along Yoongi’s jaw and lean in again to take another kiss. He meets you with a quiet grunt, curling his arm around your shoulders when you start to press your upper body against his chest. He indulges you for a minute before pulling back again, smirking this time.

“No feedback?” he grins. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you feel your temperature spike. “Not even a little?”

You reach for him again, pulling his face to yours while you turn on your hip to hook one leg over his knee. Yoongi shifts and you feel his free hand land on your thigh as it creeps up toward his lap. He ignores the little licks you use to beg at his lower lip until frustration mingles with the want swimming in your veins. This time you break the kiss.

“I…I l-like your voice.”

Your statement comes out rushed, a little dazed. Yoongi’s smirk grows bigger but you can only pay attention  to is his smell and the warmth of his body and his mouth and how much you want to kiss it again.

“You like my voice, hm?”

You nod dumbly. “Y-yeah. It sounded good.”

He makes a little hum in his throat to signal his interest, barely holding back a chuckle. “What was good about it?”

“I don’t know,” you huff, lowering your hand to rub at his chest. “It was like…deep, and…and really sexy…and – “

You dare to lean in again but Yoongi moves his head to dodge you.

“Was it too deep, though? Like was it right for the verse, or – “

You groan, your frustration flaring again as you wriggle against him. “Yoongiii – don’t.”

“Don’t what??”

“Don’t make me be a producer right now!”

“You are a producer, Y/N-ah.”

“You know what I mean!!”

“Do I?”

A whine slips from your throat. You inch your face closer to Yoongi’s, fighting the urge to full-on pout as he tilts his head to look into your eyes.

“Please…”

You can feel his heart underneath your palm as he pauses, lips just inches from yours. Yoongi blinks slowly.

“Please what, Y/N-ah?”

He says the words softly – so soft you take them as an invitation to close the gap between you. Yoongi opens his mouth for you this time and heat licks up your neck when you feel his tongue slide against yours. His mouth tastes like whiskey and his hands feel hot through the fabric of your clothes, his long fingers squeezing gently at your thigh. Yoongi’s slid down on the couch now so that you’re practically on top of him; his legs are spread wide and you’re struck with the impulse to crawl into his lap.

***

Instead you push yourself up and away from him enough to start tugging at the hem of your shirt, eventually bringing it over your head so you can toss it aside on the couch. Yoongi’s eyes drop to where your breasts sit, half-bared and perky in the balconette bra you picked out today. You catch his face going slack for a moment just before you slither your body up against his again and press a lingering kiss to his mouth.

You feel hot – something sharp and electric humming through you as you bring one hand to the front of Yoongi’s sweatpants. He lets out a quiet hiss when you find him already hard.

Yoongi covers your hand with his, stilling your touch before you can explore further. He clicks his tongue.

“Come on,” he says quietly, a hint of scolding in his voice. “Use your words, hm?”

You take in a breath, finding your mouth suddenly dry. You feel him twitch under your palm.

“I – I want…”

Your voice shakes, too weak in the quiet of the studio. You think Yoongi will speak again, keep teasing you – but instead he tightens his hold on your hand and starts to move it with his.

Saliva gathers in your mouth as he guides your hand, cupping it tightly so that you feel every inch of his length as he goes. You let out a long, shuddery breath and watch as he helps you squeeze him – tight enough to get a sense of his girth through his sweatpants. Yoongi’s eyes are black, pupils huge when you drag your eyes away from the sight.

“Say it, princess,” he murmurs. “Wanna hear you say it.”

“Yoongi – “

His name slips out, the first syllables you can think to spare through the haze in your mind. Your answer is right there, trapped on the tip of your tongue. Yoongi sees you hesitate and releases your hand – your head spins at the loss of contact but then you watch as he slips his fingers beneath the band of his sweatpants. Your mind goes blank again as he palms himself in front of you.

“What do you want?”

His voice is gentle, curious – but you can feel the heat in his gaze as he watches you closely.

You swallow thickly and remember the last time he asked you a similar question in this studio – when Yoongi had you on his lap, both of you still too timid to be truthful.

You lick your lips and draw a shallow breath.

“Wan’ – want your cock – “

Your cheeks burn and you have to force yourself not to shy away in the wake of your confession. You’re thankful when Yoongi doesn’t let the moment linger: he lets out a breath, using his one hand to shove his sweatpants and boxers low enough to pull his length free.

It's pretty, like the rest of him: long, flushed pink at the tip; pale elsewhere and beautifully veined like his hands and forearms. Big enough to suit the way he carries himself and begging to be touched.

“Don’t have to be shy,” he says lowly as he strokes himself once, from base to head. “It’s already yours.”

You reach for him hungrily, brushing his fingers out of the way so you can wrap your hand around his cock. Yoongi’s arm slips from your shoulder to your waist and he pulls you in to kiss you roughly. Your lips move together with urgency now; you tilt your head to let him dip his tongue into your mouth again and drink in the little gasping breaths he lets out when you start to pump him.

Your thumb brushes something wet and you pull back, leaving Yoongi to chase after your mouth. He settles for placing open-mouthed kisses against your neck that send shudders down your spine. You find a fat bead of moisture dribbling from the slit at the head of his cock – without thinking, you stroke upward and press your thumb against it.

Yoongi’s hips buck and he lets out another hiss – much louder this time – at the sudden pressure against the sensitive opening.

“Sorry,” you rush out, loosening your hold on him immediately. “Did I – “

He drags his teeth over his lower lip and shakes his head hurriedly. “N-no, that’s – it’s good, feels good…”

It’s been a while since you’ve given a straight-up handjob and suddenly you’re a little worried about the prospect. Anxious to get back in your wheelhouse, you push your free hand against the back of the couch and start to slide your body toward the floor.

Yoongi moves with you, though, and tightens his grip around your waist to stop you.

“Whoa – hey – “

Your freeze, bracing both hands against one of his thighs. “Ah – I-I was gonna…um – ”

“What’re you – “

“You don’t want me to go down on you?”

Your question comes out in that small voice again and your face flushes. Yoongi pauses a beat and then hauls you back against him.

“God, of course I want that,” he hums. “Just…one thing at a time, yeah? I wanna enjoy this…”

Yoongi presses a kiss to your lips and takes your hand, bringing it back to rest on his cock. Your breath turns shallow as he moves your hand with his again and nuzzles at a patch of skin just in front of your ear.

You shift in your seat, trying to relax. “OK…I just – “

He clicks his tongue gently to cut you off, fingers helping you tighten your hold as you stroke him.

“I’m gonna like everything you do, OK? Just want you to touch me like this,” he coos in your ear, placing a sweet peck against your cheek. “Already love the way you touch me, princess…”

You melt a little, softening into the sound of his nickname for you and he releases your hand so you can move on your own. You tease at the head of his cock again, smearing the stickiness there over your palm and fingers. Yoongi lets out a groan when you start to jerk him off with your slicked hand.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, breath hot against your cheek. “Feels good, just like that…want me to keep talking to you?”

You lick your lips, nodding before you’re sure of your answer. You hear him chuckle softly.

Something about his voice is helping you relax, you realize, as Yoongi peppers you with quiet praise. He talks quietly, his natural deep timbre sending tingles across your skin and you start to lose yourself to the throb of want in your belly as you work him with your hand.

“Princess,” Yoongi murmurs against your ear after a bit.

“Hm?”

“Did you listen to what I sent you last week?”

The recording, he must mean – the one from the last time you were alone together in this studio. You hum and nod, eyes trained on his cock though you vaguely register the way his chest is rising and falling a little faster now.

“Did you touch yourself to it?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks immediately – but after a short beat, you stammer out a reply.

“Y-yes…”

Yoongi’s next question comes even quicker.

“How many times?”

Your mouth goes dry. “I – I don’t know.“

“Count. Try. Wanna know.”

His cock is slick and hot in your palm. Your mind spins.

“Ah – Tuesday. F-Friday…during the weekend, a few times? I don’t kn-know…”

You’re not entirely sure why the truth is spilling out of you so readily. Something in you is desperate to pull a little more praise from his lips, but Yoongi just smirks at your answer and edges his lips over the curve of your ear.

“Mm. Gonna need you to show me how you play with yourself…”

You have no time to process the comment before Yoongi takes you by the chin, bringing you to look in his eyes as you keep pumping him. His pupils are wide.

“Wanna see how you like to be touched, yeah?” he reasons, his voice like smoke and honey. “Can you do that for me, sweetness?”

You shiver and preen internally at the term.

“Yes – yes, wanna show you – ”

Yoongi releases your chin and leans forward to press a languid kiss on your lips, cutting your feverish answer short. His eyes are dark and hooded when he pulls back.

“God, you’re so good already,” he breathes shakily. “Can’t imagine what you’ll be like when I actually fuck you...”

You moan, gripping his cock tighter. Yoongi squeezes your hip, pulling you snug as he brings his free hand to graze across your collarbones.

“Wonder what you’ll let me do, hm? What you’ll let me have – like these perfect tits…”

He trails his finger along the edge of your bra, dipping it in to pull one hardened nipple just above the lip of the cup. You gasp quietly and your cheeks burn but you lean into his touch automatically, lifting your chest to offer yourself further.

“This mouth…”

Yoongi swipes his thumb across your bottom lip and your tongue darts out to chase it. He drops his hand to squeeze at your upper thigh and you’re suddenly desperate for his touch – any touch that will bring a little relief to the tightness coiled in your belly. You do your best to roll your hips against Yoongi’s leg and his cock throbs in your palm.

“Can’t believe I haven’t been inside you yet – not even my fingers, hm?”

You shake your head dumbly.

“Gonna make it so good for you when you let me have it, princess – dying to see how well you take me…”

“Yoongi – “

He dives for your lips as you start to jerk him faster, suddenly hellbent on chasing his pleasure more than your own. Yoongi kisses you hungrily; his cock is leaking again and he and moans quietly under your touch when you spread the slick down his shaft and steadily tighten your grip. You sink your teeth into his lower lip and he gets even harder in your hand.

“Y/N-ah – “

His hips start to rut up off the couch as you keep pumping him.

“G-gonna – need to come…”

A whine escapes your throat as desire – hot and blinding – explodes in your gut. Yoongi starts to raise the hem of his t-shirt, revealing a pale stretch of toned stomach but you’re already slipping down to hit the floor on your knees. He sits up, startled by the change in position.

“Princess – “

You quickly settle yourself between his legs, one hand still working his length as you shake your head side to side and cut him off.

“P-please,” you choke out, nearly sick with want. You squeeze him again and brush your hair back with your free hand as you angle your mouth closer to his cock. “Want you to come this way – l-let me have it, wan’ it…”

Yoongi hesitates for a split second. You see his hands twitch out of the corner of your eye and you think he’s about to brush you off –

But then he sits forward, moving closer to the edge of the couch as he brings one hand to cup your jaw. He pulls your hand away from his length so he can finish himself with quick, rough pulls. You edge forward eagerly and open your mouth wide, spit gathering in the back of your throat when you feel the head of Yoongi’s cock on your tongue.

You watch closely, looking up from beneath your lashes as Yoongi comes undone. His mouth goes slack to release a breathy moan as he pumps hot, thick spurts of cum on to your tongue – some of it hits the back of your throat and you do your best to take shallow breaths through your nose. His hand is gentle where it holds your chin despite the frantic way he jerks himself off into your mouth, his brow furrowed in a mix of pleasure and concentration. You squeeze at his thighs and hum needily to spur him on, the sound broken slightly when you swallow back some of his load without closing your lips.

Yoongi’s movements slow as his finish eventually winds down. His eyelids droop slightly and he moves his hand from your jaw to thread his fingers into your hair; you close your mouth and swallow fully as he strokes his thumb over your temple. His neck shows a thin sheen of sweat, cast slightly blue in the light of the computer monitor that glows on the opposite side of the room as he tucks himself back into his sweats.

“Come here,” he rumbles, and you comply.

Rising from your knees, you expect him to be tired out – but then Yoongi hastily pulls you toward him and closes the distance between your bodies again. He drags you in for a kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth like he’s hungry to taste himself there. The heat in your belly flares instantly but you’re too surprised to make a sound.

Yoongi’s hands shake slightly as they run up and down your curves. He hooks his fingers around the button of your jeans and your hands flit to cover his.

“That’s – y-you don’t – “

He silences your half-hearted protest with his lips as he makes quick work of your zipper and peels your jeans down from your hips. You find yourself helping him, standing up on your knees and trailing your hands over his shoulders as he leans in to place kisses along the soft skin just above the waistline of your panties. Yoongi’s thumbs press against the bones of your hips where he grips you to hold you close. There’s barely enough time for you to kick out of your jeans and then Yoongi is pulling you down on top of him, crushing your belly against his chest and kissing between your breasts before pushing you down into his lap.

Your breath rushes from your lungs as Yoongi flips you onto your back so you’re laid out along the couch. He swings his weight over you and you automatically reach for his face as your stomach dips with a fluttery feeling.

“Y-Yoongs…”

You’re not even sure why you’re saying his name. His scent, his body heat, the look in his eye – hungry, blind with determination – all have you trembling, feeling strangely vulnerable. Yoongi plants one hand on the arm of the couch above your head, leaning his weight there as he meets your gaze. His free hand moves to touch you and he presses his palm to your abdomen; he runs the flat of his hand down your belly before dipping between your thighs.

A shudder runs through you and you take a sharp inhale. Your hands flutter, grabbing for Yoongi’s shirt to steady yourself. Yoongi immediately slows at the flurry of movement.

Before you can speak, he moves his hand to wrap his fingers around your wrist. You still.

“Here,” he murmurs. He pulls your hand up and pushes your fingers into his hair so you’re cradling his head. “Hold here, Princess.”

You obey wordlessly, bringing your other hand to clutch at the nape of his neck. Anchored there, you hold your breath as Yoongi slowly moves to touch you again – palming your thigh gently for a moment, eyes on yours, before trailing his knuckles over the front of your panties.

You gasp, quietly, hand tightening against his scalp but you stay put.

“Good,” he mutters – and then without further lead in, he slips his fingers beneath the thin fabric covering your sex.

You’re soaked – you knew you were soaked just from the way your panties clung when you shimmied out of your jeans, but now it’s all the more obvious as two of Yoongi’s fingers slide through your folds. You whimper as they run in a hot circuit – slipping up to circle your clit with shocking accuracy before dropping in a straight line to ghost over your opening. Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek he repeats the movement, adding a little pressure each time until you can hear the faint sounds of your slick beneath his fingers.

Your breath comes in shudders now and your abs are taut as you anchor yourself at the place where your hands connect with Yoongi’s head and neck. Your legs part wide for him without bidding, knees hiking up as you tilt your pelvis up to beg him in further. Yoongi’s eyes roam from where his fingers disappear beneath the damp pink fabric to your eyes, reading your face through a heavy lidded gaze.

He toys with your clit, watching how your mouth drops open noiselessly at the attention. Your thighs tremble and your hips buck as the firm, quick movement of his fingers summon a sudden and tight coil in your belly. You let out a choked sound; your arms shake and your fingers slip in his hair.

“Keep holding,” he says – quiet but firm.

You can tell from the tone of his voice that you should brace yourself – but still you’re knocked brainless when Yoongi tugs your panties further to the side, crooks his wrist and pushes one long finger inside of you.

You suck in a lungful of air, muscles tightening briefly before expelling it in a drawn-out, keening moan. Yoongi hums quietly and works his middle finger in a tiny circle inside of you before dragging it out.

“Just like that, sweetness,” he murmurs as he pumps it back into your cunt. “Stay like this for me.”

It’s been a while since you’ve been touched like this and you’re suddenly very aware of how much you missed it, relishing in the slight stretch that comes as Yoongi adds another finger. You take him hungrily, hips winding as every cell in your body sings at the sensation of being filled. His fingers are strong, precise – applying just the right amount of pressure and contour against your walls and soon you’re soaking his hand.

You let him hear how much you’re affected by his touch, the syllables of his name rolling off your tongue as a sweet punctuation of the quiet moans and gasps that fill the space. Yoongi’s rings warm to match the temperature of your skin; the metal teases your opening when he dives his fingers deep to stroke every inch of velvet inside your heat.

The rhythm of his hand quickens and you start to lose your breath, fingers knotting in his soft hair as you squirm.

“C-can I move?” you stammer.

Yoongi nods and you reach one hand to make a grip at his elbow, following along with his movement as he fucks you with his fingers. Your other hand leaves his hair and goes above your head; you lock your fingers around his wrist where Yoongi props himself up on the couch. You let out a feverish whine as he leans more weight into the thrust of his hand, each movement making your body judder slightly.

Yoongi suddenly presses up with the pads of his fingers, finding an electric patch inside of you and just pulses there – pumping halted, just sending wave after wave of hot pleasure through your belly as he works your sweetest spot. Your spine arches up and your breath sticks in your lungs as he angles his hand to press his thumb against your clit and then you’re gone.

You can hear Yoongi’s low voice in your ear as you come – saying sweet things you hope you’ll remember later as your pussy flutters and clenches around his fingers. Your ears ring dully, heartbeat strong in your throat as Yoongi rubs you through the peak of your orgasm; you’re too high on the sweet pleasure of getting fucked in any small way to be embarrassed at the sounds coming from the sticky mess that he's churning between your legs.

Your thighs twitch when your climax starts to fade into more gentle licks of pleasure. You squeeze Yoongi’s elbow, and he slows his movements even further before gently pulling his fingers from your swollen heat. Your head feels fuzzy when he arranges your panties to cover you up again; you don’t realize you’re sweating until Yoongi plants a kiss on your shoulder.

***

Quiet descends on the room. Your heartbeat slows gradually, body still glowing with heat as you let Yoongi maneuver you and draw you close to lay tangled with him on the couch. You’re still stretched out in your bra and panties but Yoongi keeps his eyes on your face as you start to calm.

“Are you OK?” he says softly, after a few minutes.

“Mm,” you hum in response, eyes still closed as a smile ghosts over your lips. A few beats pass before you turn your head to look at him. “I’m OK. Are you?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“…Are you sure?”

Yoongi pauses. He brings one hand to rest along the curve of your hip.

“I said some things…maybe I got carried away,” he says carefully. You open your mouth to interject but he continues. “I w-was just so turned on, and I wanna make sure I didn’t say anything that – that crossed a line, or – “

You lay your palm along his jaw. “Yoongi-yah, no.”

He blinks. You lift your head to kiss him once.

“No lines crossed,” you say firmly. “It was hot, and I liked it. All of it. I got carried away too, I think, but – in a good way.”

Yoongi nods, his expression softening a bit as he inches closer. His breath mingles with yours as you stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“I want…”

His voice is low as he starts to speak. You wait quietly, watching his lashes where they flutter over the dark warmth of his irises. You study the shape of his eyes and wonder – for the hundredth time – if you’ve ever seen anything lovelier.

“…I think I want to get carried away with you.”

His words hang between you for a split second – and then your veins fill with something dizzying and familiar. Something that made you run from Yoongi in the elevator just days earlier; something that sets a tight feeling in your gut now even as you lean in to kiss his mouth.

Part of you itches to bolt like you did before – but now a greater part demands that you stay, stock-still aside from the movement of your lips against his, blood singing with something new as you let yourself lean into Yoongi.

Chapter Text

***

“Ah – “

Your chin lifts as the crown of your head presses into the mattress, mouth open as a shaky cry leaves your throat. Warm fingers splay across your lips.

“Mm.” Yoongi’s body is draped over yours like a heavy weight as he hums against your neck. “Make that sound again…”

Your fingers scrabble at his hand that is now laid snugly over your mouth. His hips buck against yours just as you pry his hand loose and gasp for breath.

“Y’know…if you wanna…hear it so bad, then – maybe don’t…don’t cover my mouth like that??” you pant, snarky reply broken by the rhythm of your bodies moving together.

Yoongi’s nose trails up your throat, his lips leaving kisses in its wake. “Sorry, just…maknaes – in the living room…”

“I know,” you assure him with a squeeze of his biceps.

Yoongi’s tongue finds a sensitive patch of skin just below your earlobe and you let out a whimper – quietly.

You’ve been holed up in his bedroom at the dorm for about an hour. The two of you slipped away from Jungkook and Taehyung under the pretense of working on a track that Yoongi had been asked to consult on. From the sound of it, the two maknaes are still playing video games in the living room; the other members are away for the evening which created a prime opportunity for you and Yoongi to fool around.

You did at least try to get some work done: the two of you held out for maybe twenty minutes before Yoongi crumbled and practically tackled you on to his bed. You’ve been wrapped up in one another since then, dry-humping like crazed teenagers and getting tangled in his sheets.

Yoongi’s got his sweatpants pushed low on his hips – low enough so there’s only his boxer briefs and the thin fabric of your shorts between you as he ruts against you. He’s hard and his knees are splayed wide, pressed into the mattress while your thighs straddle his hips to focus his movement. Your shirt is ridden up above the cupline of your bra where Yoongi’s fingers tease at the curve of your breast.

“Want you, princess,” he murmurs before bringing his lips to yours for a brief but steamy kiss. “Wan’ it so bad – “

You pull him back in for more, eager to taste him. Yoongi gives a particularly potent roll of his hips and you moan into his mouth at the sensation: the underside of his length slides over your clit, tightening the coil of pleasure in your gut.

“Yoongi – right there…”

You snake your hands down to slip beneath his t-shirt as you plead with him, fingers dipping into the smooth hollows of his lower back to hold him against you. Yoongi plants an elbow into the blankets beside your head and reaches his other hand to grip your ass as he pulses his hips again.

“Like that?” he rasps against your cheek.

You can feel the head of his cock through your shorts, pressing against your heat and you answer with a breathless whine.

“Gonna come like this?”

“S-so – so close…”

You are close. You honestly didn’t know it was possible to achieve an orgasm this way but Yoongi is quickly reframing that prospect for you. You feel stupid, almost sick with want at the pressure of his hips and the thought of how easy it would be to take this farther – to push down his briefs and pull your panties aside; surely you’re already wet enough to take him in one go –

Your thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of Yoongi’s fingers at the waistband of your shorts. You smirk and bat his hand away playfully. Yoongi gives an indignant little grunt.

“Why did you do that?” he purrs at your ear.

You pull at the collar of his shirt, sucking gently at the skin across his shoulder. “To make you – ah!”

Yoongi gets you to make that sound again as he nips at your throat and pinches the inside of your thigh between his thumb and forefinger. You knot your fingers in his hair and drag his face level with yours.

“To make you ask questions,” you coo, grinning as you punctuate your answer with a peck on his lips.

Yoongi’s eyes narrow briefly and then he’s throwing his weight to one side, pinning your thigh beneath his hip as he shoves his hand into your shorts. He’s got your mouth covered again before you can even gasp at how quickly he finds your clit through your panties, punishing it with tight circles that send you hurtling toward your climax in mere moments.

You moan against his hand, shuddering as he holds you down and presses gentle kisses on your cheek. You reach for the waistband of his briefs but your movements are clumsy, your vision spotting as your core throbs under his touch –

***

“Hyungie??”

A timid knock at the bedroom door has you both frozen. Yoongi pulls his hand from your shorts and props himself up on one elbow, his other hand still covering your mouth.

“Yeah?” he calls back shakily. He clears his throat. “What’s up?”

“The TV is doing that weird thing again…”

It’s Jungkook.

“…Can you come fix it for us?”

You know Yoongi can’t say no to Jungkook.

You peel his fingers from your lips, disentangling your limbs from his as he pushes up to kneeling on the bed. You sit up and tug your shirt down as Yoongi shuffles on to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he huffs, running a hand through his mussed hair. “I’ll be quick – “

“It’s fine,” you whisper with a shake of your head. “Go.”

Yoongi leans in to plant a kiss on the apple of your cheek before making for the door. You blush at the pink, bitten look of his lips and the way he palms his length before adjusting himself under his sweats. You press your knees together and look away as he opens the door to join Jungkook.

This is exactly why you wouldn’t let Yoongi touch you at first, actually – you were worried about losing your head. About how far you’d be tempted to take things if you didn’t draw some kind of line in the sand. You’re keenly aware of how quickly things heated up after spending two minutes alone with him in Genius Lab last week and you know better than to let that happen here, at the dorms.

You want Yoongi – all of him, and badly – but still there’s a part of you that spooks at the idea of actually taking these hook-ups further. Things are obviously headed in that direction, you know, and though you’re practically foaming at the mouth to sleep with him you’re also worried about how sex might complicate things.

You can’t totally explain your nerves. Maybe it’s the deal with your roles at BigHit – or maybe it’s a knee-jerk reaction in the wake of the mess with Jooheon. Either way, you find yourself torn between desire and caution in a way that feels new and a little scary.

Instead of waiting for Yoongi to come back, you slide off the bed and reach for your jacket. It’s getting fairly late and you know you won’t want to leave if you stay much longer. Seoul is hazy and grey outside of the dorm windows, the trees dotting the Hannam developments swaying in a sharp wind; you figure you’ll have to call a cab and meet them a few buildings down unless you want to try and run for the metro before the rain starts.

After slipping on your shoes, you make your way down the hall toward the front entrance of the dorm. Yoongi’s still sitting on the couch, trouble-shooting the television with Jungkook; he turns his head and spots you passing by.

“Hey – “

You pause, watching as he gets to his feet. Taehyung’s head swivels around and he peers back at you from his seat on the ground – maybe two feet from the television screen.

“Are you going, noona?” he pipes up.

“Yeah – I should probably get home before it starts pouring...”

As soon as you answer, the video game flickers back to life and both maknaes turn to face the screen. Yoongi keeps a careful eye on them, looking over his shoulder as he reaches for your hands and pushes you back around the corner by the kitchen entrance. You’re out of sight from the other two – but only barely.

“Do you want me to call you a ride?” he whispers, stepping in close enough so you have to tilt your head up slightly to hold his gaze.

“No, I’ll be fine,” you answer quietly. “I just don’t want to get stuck here, you know…”

He nods, eyes apologetic. “Yeah…I’m sorry about this. About the dorm.”

“Don’t be!”

“We didn’t even get any work done…”

You stare at him for a second. “Yoongs – we didn’t actually have any real work to do.”

He blinks, a tiny smile forming on his lips. “Oh – right. I forgot.”

You stifle a laugh and Yoongi turns to check on the maknaes. When he turns back, he pulls you in close by the elbows.

“Look – do you want to come to my place later this week?” he asks. Your eyes widen. “I’m staying at my apartment for a few nights. It’s not far from here – or, well…actually, you know that. You’ve been there, I guess – just…you weren’t really conscious for much of it…”

You grin as Yoongi starts to ramble. “You’re inviting me over to your apartment?”

“Y-yeah,” he nods, running a hand through his hair. “It’s quieter. No members. We can have dinner – I can cook, if you want – “

Your face flushes instantly and you think you might melt into the floor. You can’t tell if you’re swooning or embarrassed or both but it’s definitely overwhelming.

“Ah – or n-not, either way,” Yoongi backtracks quickly as he spots the pink in your cheeks. “If that’s too much…”

“No!! It’s not,” you say quickly, still whispering. You squeeze one of his hands. “Just – don’t feel like you have to do anything. You’re so busy.”

He nods. “OK.”

There’s a long pause. You both look at each other, the silence punctuated by the sound of Jungkook and Taehyung bickering over the noises coming from the television. Yoongi shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“So…you’ll come over?”

You give in to the flutters in your stomach. “Yeah. I’ll come over. And we’ll get takeaway?”

He nods, his entire face splitting into a gummy smile. His cheeks press up and his eyes scrunch at the corners, making it completely impossible to keep from kissing him. You sneak a quick one in, just brushing your lips against his jaw before stepping back and making for the door.

Yoongi’s quick, though – he darts after you, spinning you back toward him by your elbow and planting a kiss on your mouth.

“Yoongi!!” you hiss once he lets you go. “The maknaes – “

“They’re fine,” he murmurs, lips quirking with a sneaky smile. “Go.”

You crane your neck to look beyond his shoulder – both Taehyung and Jungkook are still glued to the screen, totally oblivious from what you can tell. You try to glare at Yoongi but it’s hard when your cheeks are still glowing.

“I’m going,” you whisper back, squeezing his fingers.

“Call me?”

“Yeah.”

“When you get home?”

You giggle. “I’m going to sleep when I get home.”

He pouts a bit, drawing your attention to his pretty mouth. You really need to get out the front door, you think. You say a quiet goodbye and slip away, feeling light on your feet as you make your way out into the Seoul night.

“OK, OK – how about this…”

Namjoon licks his lips, squeezing his eyes shut as he raises his hands from his lap.

“I come home

Lie in bed

And try thinking                                                                                                         

Whether the problem was me – “

You continue humming even as Namjoon stops singing, trying to keep the melody in your head. You scribble on the notepad in front of you.

“’Whether the problem was me,’” you mutter – mostly to yourself. “Or – ‘whether it was my fault?’ Does that fit?”

Namjoon bobs his head, singing the last two lines under his breath. His eyes brighten.

“Yes – let’s go with that.”

“OK. So then…what was the next bit we had?”

Namjoon thinks for a second. “Ah – ‘an unsettling night’ – “

You clear your throat.

“An unsettling night

Suddenly I look at the clock

Soon, it’s twelve o’clock – “

Namjoon grins. “And then the chorus.”

“And then the chorus.”

You flop backward, letting your back hit the wooden floor as you splay your limbs out in relief. It’s late; you and Namjoon have been holed up in a practice-room for two hours, working on some lyrics while he has the time in his schedule. Namjoon sits cross-legged beside you in the minefield of notebooks, half-eaten snacks and empty coffee-cups that have steadily filled the space since you started working. He chuckles as you drape both arms over your eyes.

“Tired yet?”

You shake your head side to side. “Remind me why I signed up for this.”

“You didn’t. I told Sihyuk-ssi to add to you the team.”

You let your arms fall to your sides and fix Namjoon with a glare. He just grins and presses his palms against the floor as he leans back.

“I don’t get why song-writing is so hard,” you whine. “We spent the whole night on this one song – and it was already half-written when we got it!!”

He shrugs. “Yeah…that’s just how it goes sometimes. And it’s usually the simpler lyrics that are the hardest to produce.”

You let out a long exhale and pull your upper body back up to sitting. “I don’t know, Joon. I appreciate the opportunity, but – I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

“You are,” he says simply. He points to a bag of dried squid snacks and you hand it over to him. “It will get easier – and then you’ll be that much more important to the production team as a song-writer.”

He offers you a strip of squid but you shake your head. “Hm. I hope. I don’t know how you make it look so easy.”

“I’ve been doing it a long time,” he says gently. “Before I was a rapper, I was a nerdy kid writing poetry while I rode the bus home from school.”

You smile at that, turning your head to watch him in wonder as he chews on his snacks. His eyes crinkle with warmth and you let out a short laugh.

“’S not so different from that,” he finishes around a mouthful of squid. “Maybe try writing poetry.”

“Maybe I should,” you say, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at the man. He’s probably right, you think. “Is that Yoongi-yah’s secret too?”

Namjoon’s eyebrows quirk with surprise. He pops another snack in his mouth, dimples making an appearance as his mouth curves into a sly smile.

“Who knows what hyung’s secret is,” he says. “He’s certainly got more than one…”

Now your eyebrows shoot up. “Um…?

He laughs but the amusement doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You can see his wheels turning, the contemplative look you know so well starting to show through even as he gets up to grab your coffees from the lid of the piano where you two started the evening. You thank Namjoon as he hands you your cup.

“Speaking of Yoongi-hyung,” he says, refolding his long limbs to sit beside you again. “He’d kill us for leaving these on top of that piano…”

You huff out a laugh. “Yeah – let’s keep that between us, maybe?”

He gives you a wink and your cheeks warm. You both sip at your coffees for a minute, content to share the quiet in the room until Namjoon casts a brief glance at you out of the corner of his eye.

“He’s not who you thought he’d be, right?”

You blink at him.

“…Yoongi?”

Namjoon nods, rubbing his thumb along the rim of his coffee cup. You shake your head.

“No – no, he’s not,” you reply softly. “Honestly, it’s hard to remember how he used to be – or…how we used to be.”

He hums. “I remember. It was…not pretty.”

You snort – you can’t help it, even with the flicker of anxiety that’s taken up in your belly now that you’re on the topic of Yoongi. Namjoon seems calm, though, so you go along with the conversation.

“Remember when he tried to lock me out of your studio?” you ask, grinning. “When I left to use the bathroom in the middle of a session…”

Namjoon swears under his breath, the word broken up by the laughter that bursts from his chest. “God – I forgot about that. And he tried to deny it, too…”

“Unbelievable,” you say, shaking your head. “I was gone for like – three minutes, tops.”

You both chuckle at the memory. Namjoon pulls off his beanie and runs a hand through his hair.

“Well…despite things like that,” he says thoughtfully. “I knew he’d come around eventually.”

“…You did?”

He nods. “I did. Neither of you believed me when I tried to tell you, though.”

You look down at your shoes, trailing one finger along the sole of your worn Vans. Namjoon leans close enough to bump his shoulder against yours.

“…But I was right, wasn’t I?”

You give him a small smile, unsure of what to say. Namjoon watches you with soft, curious eyes and waits for a few beats.

“Y/N-ah,” he says – quietly, and with all the gentleness you’ve come to love him for. “I know you and Yoongi-hyung are close now, but…is there something more going on?”

Your breath stills in your lungs. Though you more or less saw the question coming, you’re still unsure of how to answer.

It seems like lately everyone is demanding to know your response: Songhee, Minhyuk, Yoongi, now Namjoon – all have begged a similar question in their own way. Even the situations with Yeonjun and Jooheon seem to apply pressure toward the issue indirectly.

It's frustrating. Actually, it’s more than that – a part of you is pissed off, you realize, that people keep asking you to talk about something you don’t understand even for yourself. Moreover, each of those people should understand that it’s an answer you can’t readily give in your position at BigHit. It makes you want to scream.

All of this bubbles up briefly as you look back at Namjoon. You’re careful to keep any reaction from your face, your exasperation quickly diffused by the way he holds your gaze. It makes complete sense that Namjoon is Bangtan’s leader, you think – there’s something about his brown eyes that make you want to do anything he asks of you.

You just can’t do this one thing. Namjoon is your friend, but even if you had a clear answer to give him you can’t justify speaking for two people. You don’t know what’s on Yoongi’s mind and it’s too much of a risk to take a guess if the answer could impact any of the relationships in Bangtan.

So you look Namjoon in the eye and give a small shake of your head.

“We’re friends. That’s all, Joonie.”

He watches you for a moment longer, lips slightly parted and you think he might say something more – but then he just smiles. Namjoon pulls his beanie back over his ears and scratches at his sideburn.

“Yeah. Sorry,” he says, almost sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to make it awkward – “

“You didn’t,” you reassure him. “No worries, OK?”

“OK.”

Namjoon reaches for his notebook and you set your coffee cup aside.

“…So should we finish this last vocal bridge, then?”

You groan.

It’s after nine o’clock when you get to Yoongi’s apartment building – an early time for him to be home, considering his typical schedule. Working in an industry where eight-hour days don’t really exist, you’ve gotten used to eating at odd, often late hours; moving to Seoul only amplified that effect. It took you a while to adjust to the hustling spirit of the city, where most people have a fairly liberal idea of what constitutes normal business hours.

You’re certainly wide awake now – body humming with jittery energy as you ride the elevator up to Yoongi’s floor. It’s already strange to be here, retracing the steps you took when you drove his car home to your own place so many weeks ago. His hall seems totally unfamiliar and you check his text message twice – just to be sure you have the right place – before knocking on his door.

There’s a crash from inside – faint, like the tinkling of shattered glass, but definitely audible. You step back a bit from the door, nearly jumping out of your skin when it swings open about three seconds later.

Yoongi stands in the doorway with a slight dusting of pink across his nose and cheeks.

“You heard that, didn’t you?” he asks flatly.

You nod, pressing your lips together to stop from laughing. “Um…are you OK?”

He huffs, his shoulders sagging a bit as he steps back to let you inside. He closes the front door and shuffles off, shaking his head.

“Yeah. Dropped a wineglass,” he answers over his shoulder. “Let me just sweep this up.”

He disappears into the kitchen, leaving you standing in the front hall. You take about four steps before he pops back into view.

“Um – shit, do you want me to take your jacket?” he asks quickly. “Or…something?”

You raise your eyebrows, sliding your wool coat from your shoulders and shimmying out of the sleeves as he watches you anxiously. His eyes drop to skim your outfit.

“I’m sure I can find a place to put it,” you smile. You fold your coat in half and plop it on the table at your left. “Like – right here?”

Yoongi nods, his gaze still lingering on the lower half of your body. You picked out a cropped blouse and a simple wrap-skirt, hoping to land yourself somewhere between cute and comfortable – far enough away from what you usually wear to work each day. You step out of your sandals and try to contain your satisfaction while Yoongi watches the way the fabric of your skirt flutters to reveal a good length of your thigh as you move toward him.

“Hey,” you say softly, slipping your arms around his neck. “You good?”

Yoongi swallows, his eyes focusing on your face. He nods.

“What was it you said to me once?” you wonder quietly, pursing your lips. “’Don’t make it weird’…?”

Yoongi laughs a bit at that. “Did I say that?”

“Mm. You definitely did.”

“That’s…rude.”

“A bit,” you whisper. You edge your face closer to his. “But seriously...”

You press a kiss to his mouth. Yoongi makes a soft noise in his throat, his hands coming to rest on your waist as he relaxes under your touch. You pull back after a few moments and wait until he meets your eye.

“It’s just me.”

Yoongi recaptures your lips, drawing you in closer so your heels lift up off the wood floor by an inch or so. He’s warm; his body is solid against yours and a lick of heat stirs in the space between you as he starts to open his mouth into the kiss.

You feel a little weak when he loosens his hold on you a minute later – but relieved at the expression on his face when he does. The little line between his brows is gone and the curve of his lips matches the light in his eyes.

“I ordered tangsuyuk and I have wine,” he says.

You grin, letting your hands slide down his chest. “Wow. I have honestly never heard anything sexier come out of your mouth.”

Yoongi laughs and his eyes crease as he lets you go. “I do have to clean up all this broken glass, though. So just hang out for a minute?”

He scoots back into the kitchen and you’re left to finally take a good look around his living space. The main room is large, with two steps leading down from the hall into a sunken area filled with an L-shaped couch and some other furniture. The wood floors stretch throughout the entire apartment, from what you can tell; the walls are painted dove grey and there’s a huge set of sliding glass doors leading out to a small balcony.

It feels familiar, though it’s about a thousand times nicer and larger than your own tiny flat on the edge of Hongdae. You spot a soft, cream-colored blanket on the back of the couch; it’s a bit rumpled and you smile at the thought of Yoongi, dressed in his comfiest sweats, curling up with it when he’s staying here by himself. You try to guess where he sits on the couch – wondering if he has a certain spot that’s his own, even though it’s just him here. You wonder if he’d share it with you…

Quickly brushing that thought aside, you wander across the room to look at a group of framed pictures hung along one stretch of the far wall. The arrangement seems asymmetrical and random, but strangely calming to the eye. You’re sure Yoongi hung them himself.

You pause when your eyes land a photo of a young boy dressed in a short sleeved button-down and a tiny striped tie. He’s standing with a woman in a linen dress; the top of his head barely comes to her hip and one of his hands is drawn behind him, nearly hidden from the camera’s eye where he holds the woman’s leg. The pose makes him look shy, cautious – but the boy’s face is stoic, dominated by a pair of dark, intelligent eyes and a bud-shaped mouth that slopes slightly downward at each corner.

You brush your fingertip along the bottom of the picture’s burnished metal frame and glance back over your shoulder to call out to Yoongi.

“Is this you?”

He pauses to see what you’re looking at, hovering over the table in front of the couch with two sets of chopsticks and glasses in his hands. He seems to recognize which photo you’re in front of and nods as he places the utensils on the table.

“Mm. Outside of my school in Daegu. I was six.”

You gaze at the picture, committing it to memory before you move on. You notice Yoongi at different ages in other pictures – snapshots from what look like family vacations, piano recitals, weddings – and recognize a similar expression on his face in most of them.

“Do you see them often?”

Yoongi returns from another trip to the kitchen, this time holding an open bottle of wine. “My family?”

You nod and move to take a seat on the couch, reaching for the two wide-hipped wine glasses he set out. Yoongi takes one from you and starts to fill it with garnet-colored liquid.

“I saw my brother last month when he came to Seoul. He’s older than me and still lives in Daegu,” he adds as he hands the glass to you. “I see my family a few times per year…less recently, since we’ve been touring.”

“You must miss them,” you say quietly, taking one final glance at the cluster of photos on the far wall.

“I do,” he says evenly. There’s a long pause while he pours wine into his own glass and takes a sip. “Same as I’m sure you miss your own family.”

Yoongi leans back, resting the base of his wineglass against his thigh as he reaches his other arm long to rest along the back of the couch. You eye the free space beneath his arm, at his side – but you stay put.

“Yeah, but…family means something different here, in a lot of ways,” you say. You pull your knees close to your chest and rest your forearms on top of them. “Something more, maybe.”

“More how?”

You take a draw of wine, considering your words before sharing them.

“Back home…family is important, but not always at the center of everything,” you reason. “I haven’t been home in years, and I don’t know when I will go back. It’s not that I don’t miss anyone…it’s just normal, in a way. To be separate. Apart.”

Yoongi regards you quietly with the same level, perceptive gaze as the little boy in the pictures. “Family isn’t the most important thing to you.”

You shrug. “I don’t know…I think I learned to place more value on the people I choose to have in my life, rather than the set I was born into. You know – chosen family.”

You offer the phrase in English and Yoongi repeats it quietly, his lips barely moving as he forms the words.

“Like the members,” you continue. “They’re not really your brothers, but – “

“Seokjin is my hyung,” Yoongi finishes for you. “And the others too, in their own way…sometimes even the younger ones. They’re chosen family.”

He uses the term with surety in his voice and something in you melts. You drop your knees and quietly ease your way into the hollow below Yoongi’s free arm, careful to let only some of your weight rest against his body. You think you spot a smile hinting at the corners of his lips

“Do you have people like that?” Yoongi asks.

“Some,” you answer. “Not many as close as you and Bangtan, though.”

“No one is like Bangtan,” he comments, and you laugh quietly.

“No. Definitely not.”

You shiver as Yoongi reaches around to pull some of your hair back behind your shoulder, his fingertips brushing the side of your neck as he goes. A fluttery, almost nervous feeling stirs in your belly.

“Your chosen family,” he says slowly. “They’re from your home? Where you grew up?”

“Only a few.”

“…And the others?”

You shift in your seat. “The others I picked up along the way, I guess. In different places I’ve lived…”

Yoongi falls quiet again and you start to fill the silence with stories. Maybe it’s because of your nerves, or maybe you’ve been dying to tell someone about your past – whatever the reason, you find yourself loosing old memories as you sit on the couch and cradle your wine.

You tell Yoongi about home, and your best friend from high school – the one you had a falling out with four years ago but still miss desperately. You tell him about college. You tell him about California, and London, and the scorching hot year you spent in San Juan with a roommate who started as a stranger but turned out to be an incredible travel companion.

Yoongi refills your glass as you talk and his hand comes to rest on your back at some point. He trails his fingers up the line of your spine as you bring different characters to life, doing your best to create a rough timeline out of your wandering past.

“And in Seoul?” he asks eventually.

You give him a wry smile. “Seoul was slow to warm up to me, but…it was worth the wait.”

“Why?”

“I’ve met so many amazing people here. My friend Songhee – she’s intense, but you’d like her – she’s like my lifeline. And my friends at Starship…”

You trail off, unsure of what to say and thrown off by the hollow feeling that creeps in as you picture Jooheon’s face. Yoongi nudges your shoulder with his.

“And Namjoon-ah.”

Surprised, you turn your face to him and fix him with a curious look.

“Why did you say that?”

He blinks at you. “Because you’re friends. You’re closest with him at BigHit.”

Your cheeks warm in a pleasant way. “I guess so. Joon is special.”

You’re suddenly very aware of the closeness between you and Yoongi on the couch. His fingers are playing with the ends of your hair, his chest rising and falling to a soothing rhythm where you lean against his torso. You glance down at the near-empty glass in your hand, suddenly silent and feeling small in the crook of his arm.

“You moved around a lot,” he says quietly after a minute.

“So did you.”

There’s a rumble from his chest – a laugh, maybe. “’S not the same.”

You turn your head to see his face. He’s looking at his own wine glass.

“You moved from Daegu when you were what…sixteen?”

“Seventeen,” he corrects. “And I’ve been here ever since.”

“But you’ve toured – how many cities have you been to?”

“A lot. And most only for a night or two at a time,” Yoongi says evenly. “So, like I said…it’s not the same. You moved all over and actually lived.”

Your heart twists in a strange way. “Yoongs…”

“I don’t mean it in a sad way,” he says quickly. “Not really. It’s just…I admire it. Taking chances, moving around to find some place you really belong…I would like to do that, if I could. If I had a different life.”

Your hand drifts to land on his chest, just below his sternum. “If you had a different life, the world would be missing out on so much.”

The words come out before you have a chance to think them over. They’re true – you know it – but your stomach lurches with their weight. Yoongi sets his wineglass aside; he covers your fingers with his and you rush to keep talking.

“Besides – I didn’t need to travel to find where I belong.”

Yoongi’s hand is warms on yours. “No?”

You shake your head. “No. I didn’t ever find that place – not anywhere that I’ve traveled, at least. It’s always just been music...that’s what makes sense to me. That’s where I belong.”

It comes as a rambling afterthought – a way to fill the quiet and distract from the way your heart’s pounding in your chest. You look at Yoongi again when he doesn’t say anything.

“Does that sound crazy?”

He shakes his head slightly, his lips parted as he stares back into your eyes. Moving slowly, Yoongi moves his arm from around your shoulders and takes your glass from your hand to set it on the low table. You think he’s about to speak but then Yoongi is kissing you.

He’s careful with you: his hands gentle, relaxed where they land on your knee and face; his lips are soft on yours. Yoongi kisses you like it’s the first time all over again and you find that your heart is beating just as hard as it was in his studio that morning.

***

You reach for his shoulders, shifting your body and settling yourself in his lap so your knees press into the couch on either side of him. Yoongi falls against the back of the couch and you just catch the airy gasp that leaves his lips when you tilt your head and press your chest against him to deepen the kiss. His hands skim over your thighs – never pausing or resting against your skin until he lets them land lightly on your lower back. Your fingers tangle in his hair and your elbows slide to rest on the top of the couch as you wrap yourself around him; you’re burning for his touch but he moves slow and steady beneath you.  

You pull back, hips settling against his thighs as you brush your thumbs over Yoongi’s cheeks. His dark hair is ruffled and he turns his head, placing a quick kiss against your palm to make you bite your lip as you take in the sight of his wide pupils. Your hands drop to the hem of his t-shirt and he only pauses for a moment before leaning forward – making space between his back and the couch so you can help peel his shirt up and off his body.

You’ve never thought too much about what Yoongi would be like undressed and there’s nothing too surprising waiting when you toss his shirt to the floor. His shoulders are the squarest part of him, his chest and stomach lined with subtle muscling where they taper down to his waist. He’s slim – just like you’d expect after seeing him draped in skinny jeans and all-black outfits for so long – and pale.

You know Yoongi is more light-complexioned than most people but you’ve never seen this much of his skin before. Trailing your fingers over his shoulders, you let your palms come to rest on his pecs; he feels like velvet under your fingertips and something about the milky tone of his skin makes him seem incredibly, potently bare.

“What?”

Yoongi’s husky voice startles you and you realize you’re staring – like, staring staring at his body. You lick your lips to wet them and move your hands to his shoulders again.

“N-nothing,” you murmur, stirring your hips to grind against him slightly. “You – you’re just, like…shit, you are really pale…”

Desire is thrumming in your veins and you honest-to-God meant it as a compliment – but as soon as the words come out, Yoongi’s brow furrows.

“I – what??”

You shake your head quickly. “No, I mean – it’s hot, just…forget it.”

You knot your fingers in his hair and slot your mouth against his. Yoongi draws a sharp inhale through his nose and squeezes you at your waist; he takes your kiss greedily and when you pull back again he looks just as hungry as he did before.

He tugs at your top this time and quickly helps you out of it. You’re fumbling behind your back, undoing the clasp of your bra before your shirt even hits the ground and you see Yoongi’s eyes widen as the straps go loose on your shoulders.

You shed the thin garment, immediately regretting how you gaped at Yoongi now that your own body is exposed. A faint blush creeps onto your cheeks as his eyes rove over your breasts – only briefly, though; only a few still moments pass before Yoongi pulls you snug against his torso and erases your shyness with the heat of his kiss.

Yoongi’s hands slide to grip the thickest part of your ass and you part your lips in silent surprise; he presses his tongue into your mouth and heat explodes in your belly. Your tongue slides with his and you let Yoongi control your hips, grinding downward when his hands pull you in tight. Your nipples graze the smooth skin of Yoongi’s chest and you feel them harden at the sensation.

Eventually Yoongi glides his hands up your body, making you tremble and let out a quiet, needy noise when his palms skirt the curve of your breasts. He leaves you wanting, though – his hands coming to rest only once they tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck so he can drag your lips from his.

“Y/N-ah,” he pants, his voice croaky. “If we keep going…like this, I don’t – I don’t think I can stop.”

You roll your hips in his lap, pressing your forehead to his before kissing him again. It takes all your strength to pull back  – even if only for a moment.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you breathe against his lips.

Yoongi drops his hands again and squeezes your thighs, his fingertips pressing dents into your muscles. “No, seriously – if Jungkook or fucking Jimin-ah or someone knocks on my door, I’m – I’m just ignoring it.”

You huff a laugh. “Good. Finally.”

You lean in again but Yoongi moves his head, his eyes a little wide as he peers at your face.

“Unless you want to stop, obviously,” he says quickly. He loosens his grip on your legs. “Of-of course I’d stop, if you wanted – I just – “

“Yoongi – please – “

You silence him with your mouth, biting sharply at his bottom lip so he hisses but doesn’t pull away. You take his hands and bring them to your breasts and relish in the ragged groan that rumbles in his chest when he cups them in his palms. You arch your back, mouth going slack and goosebumps prickling over your skin when his thumbs circle your nipples. Yoongi squeezes your tits, freeing himself from your kiss to press his lips to your throat.

You drop your head back, hands trembling as Yoongi sucks and nips at the skin just below your jaw.

“Please,” you murmur again – shakily this time, bordering on begging as you bare your neck to the heat of his mouth.

He kisses his way downward, leaving a wet trail behind as his lips find your collarbones. His breath fans over the hollow of your throat and you shiver when his tongue delves in to taste you there.

“Princess - ?”

Yoongi’s voice reaches your ears – low, rough, heavy with question. You pull at his shoulders to grind yourself down against the hard knot in his lap, making Yoongi groan quietly. He wraps his arms tightly around you and dips his head to capture one of your nipples between his lips.

A gasp leaves your throat and you arch into the warmth and wet of his mouth.

“Please, Yoongi,” you repeat, drawing gulps of air as you thread your fingers into his hair and pull him tighter to your breast. Yoongi opens his mouth and sucks at the sensitive flesh. “Please, fuck me...”

The words are crude but they roll off your tongue like an earnest prayer, your breath half-caught in your throat by the fervent pitch of the moment. Wine long-forgotten, Yoongi tips you both over to spread out along the couch – his lips never breaking their seal against your skin. You pull his weight over you and clutch at his arms as he mouths his way back to your throat. He ruts down against you and you spread your legs to let the fabric of your skirt fall open, inviting him in to angle his length closer to your core.

Yoongi moves over you like a tide – the warmth and weight of him crashing down on you one moment, his body just hovering above yours the next as he steadily rolls his hips against yours. Between the waves, you reach down and deftly undo the button on his jeans. He moans against your neck when you plunge a hand into his boxers – the sound almost broken, needier than you’ve ever heard him as you wrap your palm around his cock. He’s dribbling with want, wetting your fingers as they move over him and you feel your sex flush in response.

“Do you have a condom?” you rush out breathily.  

Yoongi pushes himself up a bit, his breath coming in quiet pants and he nods silently before starting to get up off couch. He pauses midway to his knees – seems to think better of it – and dips down to kiss you firmly before standing up and hurrying around the back of the couch.

Once he’s out of sight, you untie the knot on your skirt with shaky fingers and slide the garment out from under your hips. You’re glad when Yoongi’s not gone long – he returns less than a minute later and you almost smile when you notice he also shed his bottoms.

You have about three seconds to admire his form while he moves to stand beside where you’re laid on the couch – your eyes flitting over the carve of his hip bones, mourning the point where they disappear under the band of his dark boxer briefs. You have time to note the graceful lines of his limbs before he sinks a knee into the couch by your feet and descends on you.

Something halfway between a laugh and a gasp passes your lips as he pulls your legs apart, trailing soft kisses along the skin there. He nips at the inside of your thigh – not enough to hurt, just enough to make your hips buck – and then lowers himself further to press his mouth to your panties.

You shudder as he tongues the silky fabric, his spit soaking through to mix with your slick. Yoongi kisses your core messily, open-mouthed; he burrows into you hungrily and you let out a shocked whimper when his tongue slips just beneath the edge of your panties.

“Fuck,” he curses hoarsely, pulling his mouth off of you. “You taste – “

Yoongi doesn’t finish the thought. He rises again, shedding his boxers and your hips squirm when he stands fully bare in front of you. Saliva fills your mouth at the sight of his length, flushed and hard and bobbing at an impressive angle by his hips. Your eyes flick to where Yoongi’s tearing into a foil packet, his fingers moving quickly before –

“Fuck.”

When he says the word this time, it doesn’t sound half as good. You see Yoongi blink rapidly.

“Um,” he starts, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I – I ripped it.”

He stretches the condom between his fingers for a moment and reveals a very obvious tear. You move to prop yourself up on your elbows, knees falling together to touch.

“OK…”

“Just wait here,” he says quickly. “Don’t – don’t move – “

He cups his length with one hand and takes off again. You sit up a little further, high enough to peek over the back of the couch and catch sight of Yoongi’s pale but very shapely butt making off down the hallway.

You flop back down with a smile on your lips. You hope your own butt looks half as cute, honestly. You think he must have achieved that shape through so many years of dance practices and performances.

In a strange but sudden moment of realization, you think about how you’ve never seen Yoongi perform on stage. Not in person, at least – which seems odd, given how much you’ve gotten to know him over the last few months. Is it weird that you’ve missed out on a big chunk of his life – the chunk that really makes him an idol?

It's actually strange to think of Yoongi as an idol at all, you notice. Jooheon was an idol – like, he oozed the charisma and the charm and the aegyo at all times. Yoongi is on a whole other level – Bangtan is on a whole other level – and yet you’ve never really seen that side of him…

Your eyes trail over to the spread of pictures on the wall, zeroing in on a large one near the center that shows the members standing in front of a stadium crowd. You can’t even see any faces in the audience – just the seven members, looking larger than life where they stand with their arms slung over each other’s shoulders.

You cup your hands over your breasts, feeling a little chilled and suddenly very small and exposed in Yoongi’s huge living room. There’s a nervous feeling in your belly that wasn’t there before – not up until the word idol entered your brain.

You startle a bit when Yoongi reappears, a whole strip of condom packets hanging from his hand this time.

“OK,” he huffs. “This probably seems like overkill, but…I just wanted to be safe – “

He pulls one of the packets off and carefully rips it open, easing his weight on to the couch. He takes his length in hand and you look away, stomach dropping unpleasantly as you rub your thighs together and realize you’re maybe not as ready as you were three minutes ago.

Yoongi reaches for your knees.

“Um – “

He freezes at the small questioning sound, one hand warm on your calf. He meets your eye and you squirm in place.

“I think…I think I might need help getting warmed up again,” you say sheepishly, cheeks turning pink as you try to give him a real smile. “Sorry…”

“No,” he says quickly. “Don’t be sorry, princess – here – “

He shuffles his body down the couch, reaching for the waistband of your panties as he kisses over the flat of your stomach.

“Dying to have you on my tongue again…”

He smirks against your skin and his words should be music to your ears but you find yourself sitting up, lifted on one elbow as you dart to grab one of his wrists.

“A-actually – um…”

Yoongi pauses again, his eyes going wide.

“Can you…could you just kiss me, maybe?” you ask timidly. Your mouth feels dry. “Just – just for a bit…”

He hesitates for the briefest moment, hands hovering over your hips as he looks up at you with a concerned look on his face – and then he’s moving up your body. Yoongi shifts his weight gingerly and carefully tucks himself between you and the back of the couch; his brow smooths out as he brushes a piece of hair back from your face and looks down at you.

“Of course,” he murmurs. He runs his palm up and down the length of your arm. “There’s no rush, yeah?”

From this close up, you spot the freckle on his nose and the way one eyelid folds a little differently than the other. You remember these details, having noticed them before – back when you didn’t know much about Yoongi and had to strain to see any hint of the man behind the icy front he presented.

Now, as warm lamplight spills over the soft planes of his face, Yoongi looks so much like the kid from Daegu – dark-eyed and aware, holding an intensity that begs you to lean closer; an old soul hungry for many of the same things you dream about at night.

He dips his head and delivers the kiss you asked for: tender, unrushed and honest. Yoongi’s fringe tickles where it brushes your brow, his hand skimming down your forearm to reach for your fingers. He brings your palm to press against the flat of your belly, leaving your hand anchored between the throb of your own pulse and the warmth of his touch.

You part your lips for Yoongi but he doesn’t pass them – his kisses remain gentle, coaxing, even as you feel his heart thudding in his chest where it’s pressed against your side. His fingers tremble slightly over yours, revealing the extent of his restraint and eventually you find the boldness to take his wrist and guide his hand down between your thighs – returning his touch to the place where you needed it so badly only minutes ago.

Yoongi presses his face into your neck, freeing your mouth to let out soft sighs as his fingers slide through your folds. He draws easy circles through your folds, fingertips only ghosting over your clit but still the flashes of pressure are electric.

Yoongi trails his nose up the length of your neck, nuzzling carefully around the shell of your ear. Your lips part in a silent gasp when his teeth close over your lobe, the gentle tug sending a cascade of prickles down your spine just as he presses two fingers inside your heat.

For a brief moment you’re shocked you can take them – but it quickly becomes obvious that you’re just as wet as before. His tongue laps against the skin beneath your ear as he starts to move his hand, delving his fingers a little deeper each time he crooks his wrist to fuck them slowly into you. The first feelings of being stretched, filled sear through you and you dig your nails into his bicep to beg for more.

Obedient and focused, Yoongi rises and sits back on his heels; he pulls his hand from your core only long enough to drag your panties down your legs. You don’t even have time to rearrange your limbs before his fingers are pushing inside you again.

Yoongi’s mouth hangs open, his eyes set on where his digits disappear into your pussy and you keen quietly under his gaze. He takes his bare cock in his hand and watches, pumping his fingers into your heat at an achingly slow pace as he squeezes himself.

“Yoongi,” you breathe. His eyes flick to yours and your hips squirm, thighs spreading further for him. “Need you...”

His fingers curl upward, briefly pressing against that sweet spot inside you and you bite back a whine when he draws his hand back. Yoongi leans over to plant a kiss on your knee and then he’s sitting up, dark eyes studying your expressing carefully as he reaches one hand toward the coffee table.

There’s a quiet moment as you wait for him to roll on another condom. Your heart seems to sit somewhere near your throat, your breath coming in shallow sips as he leans himself over you. You pull your knees up and set your hands at his waist to help steady his weight as he lines the tip of his cock up with your opening. One elbow planted by your head, Yoongi holds his length at its base and carefully pushes his hips downward.

Your mouth falls open and his breath rushes shakily against your ear as he slowly eases in, feeding you each inch of his length slower than the one before. The stretch is mind-numbing – your stomach dipping deliciously the deeper he gets, pleasure ebbing and rising each time he pulls back slightly before burying himself in your heat a little further. When he finally bottoms out, you’re breathless for a moment; Yoongi’s cock twitches inside of you and he lets out a quiet moan against your neck.

You half expected him to be loud, after what went down in his studio – but the praise and filthy promises are replaced with much softer sounds as he starts to move with shallow thrusts. You brace your hands on his shoulders and tilt your hips up to meet him as he moves against you, gasping each time his pubic bone brushes against your clit. Yoongi scoops his free hand under your thigh and raises it higher on his hip to angle himself deeper and your eyes blur at sensation of being completely filled.

“F-fuck – “

Yoongi’s fingers tangle in your hair. You let out a shuddery noise as his strokes grow longer, his cock slick from your heat now. His mouth opens against your throat and you press your head back into the couch cushion when you feel his tongue at your pulse. Your walls tighten and you feel yourself grow greedy – wanting everything faster, harder, more – even as he presses deeper into you with every thrust.

You move your hands to cup Yoongi’s face and draw it level with yours. He lets you take his mouth – curling his tongue against yours as he ruts into you. Your fingers slip into his hair and set your teeth into lower lip, pulling at it hungrily and then it’s like a switch has flipped.

Yoongi wedges his arms beneath your body and pulls you upright in one swift, sudden rush of movement. He brings you into his lap as his shoulders hit the back of the couch again, his cock slipping out of you for only a moment before you’re plunging back down on to it.

You moan at the shift, your want spiraling at the freedom of fucking him like this – knees spread wide and pressed into the couch, your hips controlling how fast and deep you take him. Your fingers clutch at Yoongi’s shoulders as you wind yourself up and down his length and he hisses when you clench around him. He groans deeply and the sound swallows up the syllables of his name when they pass from your lips in a whine.

He dips his head to lave his tongue over your tits, fingers gripping your ass to steady you a bit as his tongue flicks over one of your nipples. The attention sends a bolt of electricity straight to your core and you quicken the rise and fall of your hips, drawing moans from both of you.

Yoongi lets you ride him hard, hands coming to your hips to help you move and it’s not long before you’ve made a mess of his lap.

“Shit – Princess,“ he murmurs, sliding one hand down between your legs when your thighs start to tremble. “That’s it – “

The nickname sends a flare of arousal through you. Yoongi dips his thumb into the slick that’s coated the places where your bodies meet, using it to rub slippery circles into your clit. You sigh at the pressure, losing your rhythm suddenly and you know you won’t last.

“Mm – Y-Yoongi, ‘m gonna – “

“Go ahead, sweetness,” he rasps, eyes dark and wide. “Wanna feel you…”

Your thrusts get shallower, the pleasure so sudden and consuming that all you can do is rock yourself up and down on his cock. You grab for his shoulders.

“I’m – please – “

Your upper body slumps forward and he coos encouragement into your ear, thumb moving faster over your clit as your hips stutter and you come for him. Your orgasm roars through you, gathering strength even as your muscles go lax; Yoongi makes it clear that he intends to drag it out when he starts to move beneath you.

He wraps one arm around your waist and braces his other against the back of the couch, his hand fisting in the fabric there before he plants his heels in the floor to drive up with his hips. You let Yoongi prop you up and you hear yourself moan long and low when he starts to bounce you on his cock. You splay your shaking hands against his chest and your eyes slip shut as he bucks his hips, stirring fire where you thought there couldn’t possibly be more heat.

Yoongi quickly coaxes a second peak out of you - this one subtler, but just as sweet - and then he slows, his hands shaking where he grips your waist and carefully thrusts up into you. Spent, you lean your forehead against his and then you feel his cock throb as he comes. Yoongi gasps quietly as he empties himself, his chest rising and falling erratically beneath your hands; his temples are wet with sweat and his breath seems to catch in his throat as he pulls you tighter to him.

You lean against him and nuzzle into his neck until the pulsing subsides, content to let him hold on to you as long as he needs. Your bodies are sticky and you’re too tired to speak so you stay quiet; it’s only when Yoongi starts to soften inside you that he makes any movement.

***

Still straddling his lap, you watch as Yoongi reaches behind him and pulls the soft white blanket from the back of the couch.

“Here – “

He brings it around your shoulders, tugging two corners around you until you’re wrapped in the soft fabric. He slips his arms around your waist and presses his lips close to your cheek.

“I’ll be right back, OK?”

You nod and Yoongi gently helps you up off his lap, disentangling your limbs so you can curl up on the couch beside him. He gets up and moves out of sight; you hear him shuffling down the hallway and a few quiet minutes pass before he comes back, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and holding out a clean t-shirt for you.

Yoongi helps you into it, grinning when you tug the hem down and stand bare-legged in the huge garment. It’s like a dress on you and you’re sure you look ridiculous – still a little sweaty, hair an absolute mess – but it doesn’t matter. The shirt smells like Yoongi and his hands are gentle when he combs your hair back from your face with his fingers and presses his lips to your forehead.

You leave him to make a trip to the bathroom, hurrying back to find him finishing off his glass of wine.

“Should I grab the bottle?” you ask.

Yoongi shakes his head, setting his glass aside and reaching for you. “I’ll get it later. Come here – “

He pulls you down on to the couch and you smile against his lips when he kisses you, his mouth sweet from the wine. You stretch out along the cushions and Yoongi follows suit. Happy to hang out in silence, he watches as you trace circles on the soft skin of his chest and finally your bodies start to cool.

A minute later, a sudden knock comes at the front door and you both startle at the sound.

Your eyes flick to meet Yoongi’s, frozen for a few beats.  

“…Jungkook or Jimin?” you whisper anxiously.

Yoongi blinks, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

“Um…actually, I think that’s the tangsuyuk.”

You think you’ve never heard anything better.

Chapter Text

You wake gradually, breath still coming slow and long for a few minutes before you even start to crack open your eyes.

Everything seems warm and white, your view mostly obscured by a fold of comforter and the swell of the pillow beneath your head. Your body feels heavy, like you haven’t moved a muscle since falling asleep. You fill your lungs with a deep inhale and stretch – arching your back out into a crescent shape; reaching down with your legs so your feet slip against the soft sheets and every fiber in your body sings.

You realize there’s something directly behind you – something solid, unmovable. Lifting your head to peer over your shoulder, you see Yoongi: shirtless with his eyes still closed, arms crossed over his chest with his face wedged right up against your shoulder blades.

You quickly drop your head back into your pillow and your body shakes as you stifle a laugh at the sight.

“Why’re you laughing?”

His voice is muffled and you can feel his lips moving where they’re flush to your skin.

“Why are you sleeping like that?” you quip back, smile obvious in your voice.

“What d’you mean?”

“I don’t know…who crosses their arms while they sleep?”

He makes a little puff of air through his nose and it tickles against your spine. You feel his limbs start to move, rustling quietly as he repositions himself in the sheets. Yoongi lets out a content, sleepy sound.

“Mm…amazing. ‘S barely nine o’clock and you’ve already got something smart to say.”

That gets your attention. You lift your head again, rolling over to face him.

“Nine?!”

Yoongi nods.

“…Aren’t you late for practice or something?”

“I’m off today.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Seriously?”

“Mhm.”

You search Yoongi’s eyes for a moment, unbelieving until a slow smile spreads over his face. You mirror it, sliding your body across the mattress to be closer to him. Your hands find his chest and he wiggles backward so you can fit your head on the corner of his pillow.

“Well…this changes everything,” you grin.

“Does it?”

“Yes. Now I have all the time in the world to think up smart things to say to you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Perfect.”

“You do sleep weird.”

“Y/N-ah – “

“So adorable, though. All wrapped up tight and huddled against me.”

“I wasn’t being cute,” he says defensively, pouting a bit. “I was cold. I didn’t know if I could…if you wanted me to…”

You wait for him to finish but he trails off, eyelids fluttering against his cheeks. Still smiling, you scoot closer and slip an arm over his waist to pull your body flush with his. His bare skin is warm under your fingers.

“You don’t feel cold now,” you murmur. His mouth is only inches from yours. “But you could have said something.”

Yoongi smiles shyly. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“For future reference, I’m not much of a cuddler,” you inform him. You trace soft shapes up his spine with the hand that’s draped over his side. “But for you…I could make an exception.”

Yoongi just hums, but you can see how pleased he is – even from this close up. You stay like this for a minute, enjoying the silky feel of his skin while he studies your face. You reach for a stray piece of hair and brush it back from in front of his eyes. Yoongi nudges the tip of his nose against yours.

“Are you going to kiss me or what?” he asks quietly.

You laugh, surprised. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

“What? Of course I do – “

“I don’t know – mornings aren’t very cute for me. I could be gross,” you say, slightly abashed. “And – and you…”

Yoongi looks decidedly un-gross. His hair is messy, sticking out weirdly in some spots and his eyes are a little puffy – but you like him this way. He looks soft and relaxed and you kind of hate him for how bright his skin looks first thing in the morning.

“…you look like a fucking angel.”

You catch Yoongi scoffing – quietly, and only for a brief moment before he angles his head and kisses you. You roll back on to your shoulder a bit, letting your eyes slip shut and giving in to the soft pressure of his mouth.

You both passed out soon after finishing dinner last night, staying up only long enough for Yoongi to find you an extra toothbrush before falling into bed. You remember kissing him a bit then but it’s all very foggy. It’s honestly a miracle that you slept at all, you think now – as your body heats up and you start to think of all the things you could have done to him in those late hours of the night...

You feel yourself slipping quickly. Yoongi’s smell, the taste of his mouth – everything is stronger somehow, sharper in the morning light and something molten floods your veins within minutes.

***

Drawing your hand back from where it rests on his spine, you reach down between your bodies and find Yoongi already painfully hard in his boxer briefs. You cup his cock through the fabric and he rolls his hips slightly, sighing into your mouth at the pressure as he moves his hand from your hip to slip it between your legs. Bodies mirroring each other, you grind against his touch and lick into his mouth.

“You’re so wet,” he breathes against your lips, fingers stroking over your panties. “How’re you – fuck…”

He crashes his mouth against yours again and you feel him twitch in your palm. Yoongi’s fingers dip below the fabric covering your folds, searching for your heat with some urgency – but he freezes when you wince.

“Ah – “

The sound you let out is tiny but Yoongi pulls back right away.

“Are you OK?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer quickly, a tinge of pink coloring your cheeks under his worried gaze. “Yeah…just – a little sore. From last night…”

Yoongi blinks, watching your face closely. You squeeze at his length, moving your hand a bit so he knows you still want him – because you absolutely do.

Moving slowly, Yoongi reaches for your hand and pulls it back. You think he might put a stop to where the morning is headed but then he’s guiding you on to your back and leaning across you, pressing one hand into the mattress to move his weight over your body. He starts to slide downward and you reach for his forearms.

“Yoongs – “

He’s already low enough to press a kiss to your thigh when you speak up.

“Let me take care of it,” he whispers against your skin.

Yoongi slips easily out of your hold and brings his hands to your hips, fingers curling under the band of your panties before drawing them down your legs. He scoots further down the mattress and there’s not really enough time to process anything before he’s going down on you – tenderly, tongue parting your folds with patient care like you’re something precious.

Your thighs fall apart for him. Spreading your legs wide, you gasp quietly and your back arches up off the bed. You reach down to gently cup either side of Yoongi’s face as he sets his mouth to your heat; he’s diligent, almost methodical – his nose barely brushing over your clit while he focuses most of his attention deep between your folds where you ache for him most.

It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to build, gradually seeping into your bones like the warmth of a bath. You hold your breath while you wait for the peak to break; Yoongi’s hair is pushed back from his brow and he opens his dark eyes to watch you when you come. Your vision blurs and you let out a stuttering moan, core pulsing desperately against his tongue for what seems like forever and then you feel him kiss the inside of your thigh.

Yoongi looks on as you catch your breath, his mouth pink and wet with your slick.

“Better?” he asks quietly.

You sigh contentedly, moving your hips against the mattress as the crest of pleasure seems to settle in your stomach. You feel a little restless though you’re only just coming down from a high.

“Mm…”

Yoongi remains between your legs, his head resting against your thigh while he edges his lips around the outside of your folds and watches you carefully from below.

He brings the pad of his thumb to press gently against your clit and you inhale sharply. You squirm at the initial sensitivity – but after a few moments he starts to rub a tiny circle against you and the electric feeling quickly flips into something sweeter. You twist your hips again, whining quietly when Yoongi brushes a finger over your opening.

“Do you want me to keep touching you?” he asks, voice low. You can feel his breath against your core.

You nod, tongue darting out to wet your lips. “More.”

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to slide one finger inside of you – it stings a bit, the soft flesh of your walls hypersensitive from the night before but you’re so wet that there’s no resistance when he soon adds another. You shudder as his knuckles drag against your heat, pressing your head back into the pillow and letting your mouth fall open at the sensation. You’re quiet, only letting out soft pants of breath; after a minute Yoongi moves to pull his hand back – but then you quickly sit up and grab for his wrist, holding him inside.

“W-wait,” you blurt out, squeezing your walls tight around his fingers so he can feel it. “Don’t stop, Yoongs…”

His eyebrow lifts slightly and he relaxes under your grip, pressing his digits back into you until you sigh and release him. He clicks his tongue and starts to work you a little harder.

“Are you sure, princess?” he asks – a hint of teasing in his tone.

You answer with a whimper, spreading yourself further for him in invitation and he takes it gladly. Yoongi’s fingers pump deeper, pulling soft, wet sounds from between your legs. Soon a coil of heat tightens in your belly, egged on by the look in his dark, lidded eyes.

“Look at you,” he groans, his face still so close to your pussy. “So perfect like this – all pretty and soaked for me…”

His praise sends goosebumps over your skin and your heart pounds at the realization that you’re close to coming again. Yoongi fucks his fingers into you and you take them helplessly, muscles weak from pleasure. Your eyes sweep over where his body is stretched out below you, lingering where you see his hips grinding down into the mattress. 

“Yoongi,” you manage to huff out. “Come here.“

His eyes are still glued to your core. The pads of his fingers crook up into you and it kills you to interrupt him but suddenly you’re hungry – desperate to have more of him inside you.

“Yoongi,” you say again, louder this time and he looks up. You’re bordering on begging. “Want you – “

He follows your movements with wide eyes as you draw your hands up your body, dragging the hem of his t-shirt above your breasts to let him watch as you squeeze at the soft flesh. His hips roll harder into the sheets and his breath comes out in a shuddering rush against your thigh.

Yoongi’s fingers leave your core as you push up on to your elbows and shed the t-shirt before carefully turning over, arranging yourself so your knees are spread and your chest presses into the mattress. You turn a cheek against the sheets and look back at him, arching your back deeply.

“W-want you like this,” you sigh, drunk with need and anticipation.

Yoongi pushes his boxers down his hips and moves quickly toward the bedside table closest to you, leaving the drawer wide open while he fishes a condom out of its wrapper. He touches your waist with one hand and squeezes gently, questioning; you push yourself back toward him, pleading with your eyes as you clutch at the sheets.

He eases forward, the head of his cock parting your folds easily as he pushes his length into you. The stretch is painful – you have to squeeze your eyes shut and breathe deeply through your nose for a few moments – but sweet enough to make your thighs tremble. Yoongi moves carefully but it doesn’t take long before his hipbones meet the curve of your ass, the plunge eased by how wet you are and you want to cry at how full you feel taking him at this angle.

Yoongi leans over you, balancing his weight on his palms as he starts to move his hips. He thrusts in and out of you gently, muttering praise as you adjust to take his girth.

“So good, princess – doing so good…”

He peppers kisses over your shoulders and spine, settling into a maddeningly slow and steady rhythm. You try to press yourself backward, eager to chase his cock every time he draws himself back your heat – but the languid roll of his hips has you falling into some kind of hazy headspace. Yoongi grips your hip tightly with one hand and you both moan when he grinds himself deeper into your pussy.

“Mm – l-like that,” you choke against the sheets. “Wan’ it – harder. P-please.”

Yoongi hums at the sound of your request. “Yeah?”

“Y-yeah, ah – Yoongs – “

His hips still.

“I thought you were sore…”

You shake your head, letting out a whine – almost a sob. Yoongi chuckles softly.

“Still hungry to take my cock, though, hm?”

You gasp as he gives one sharp thrust, hitting a sensitive spot inside of you that sends electricity up your spine. Your hands fist in the sheets. Yoongi leans closer to you, his breath hot against your shoulder as his hips start to roll against your ass again in that measured, luxuriant pace.

“Don’t worry – I’ll fuck you like you want…eventually,” he smirks. You shudder beneath him. “But I know you can come like this...”

He leans his weight into one hand and moves the other below your body, bringing it between your legs to play at your clit. You can’t help it – you fall apart almost immediately at his touch, moaning freely as he buries himself in your heat and grinds his hips against you while you come.

Yoongi’s forehead drops between your shoulder blades and his thrusts begin to stutter slightly. His touch slips from your clit and he reaches for your arm instead, wrapping his fingers around a spot just above your elbow before pulling on it to leverage your body tighter to his. His chest presses against your back and you find his thigh with the hand that’s drawn behind you now, squeezing him there to encourage the broken sounds that fall from his lips when he starts to spill into the condom.

You’re still coming down from your own release as he leans more of his weight on you, muscles taut and hips bucking against your ass every few moments. Your heart pounds in your chest, almost matching up with the way Yoongi throbs inside your core. He shifts on his knees but you grip his thigh to keep him close until his breathing starts to quiet.

You feel dazed and boneless when he carefully pulls out. Yoongi shuffles off the mattress for a minute while you unbend your limbs and stretch out, letting cool air reach the places where sweat was starting to dampen your skin. It’s tempting to let your eyes slip shut for a bit – but then Yoongi’s padding back into the room and you can’t help but drink in every line of his body as he moves to lay down next to you.

***

Wordlessly, you slot yourself at his side as he lifts one arm to make space for you. There's a long stretch of comfortable silence before Yoongi clears his throat.

“Though you weren’t a cuddler…”

You avoid his eye, busying yourself by tracing your fingertips across the flat of his stomach. “’M not cuddling.”

“No?”

“Nope,” you reply easily, draping one leg over his.

“Hm…could have fooled me.”

You nuzzle a wandering path across Yoongi’s bare chest, lips grazing over his skin and lingering in the slight hollow where his ribs meet. He makes a deep rumbling sound, keeping it trapped in his throat while you trail kisses toward his collarbone. You pause to flick your tongue over his nipple and smirk when his abs clench in response.

“Princess,” Yoongi mutters with some caution in his voice. He slips his fingers into your hair, caressing your scalp lazily as he shifts his body. “Careful.”

Part of you wants to tease him – to push a little further, see if you can get him riled up or even turned on again. But your smile fades when you look up at his face, noticing how his eyes have closed and how the morning light hits the tip of his nose and the highest parts of his cheekbones. Yoongi looks so restful; his body is so calm under yours and his hand feels at home tangled in your hair. You gently rest your chin on his ribcage, feeling his chest rise and fall evenly with his long breaths.

“You’re really beautiful,” you say softly.

There’s a split second of quiet – and then Yoongi lets out a huff. His face scrunches up in a shy way and he brings his free hand up to touch his brow.

“…What?"

He rubs the hand across his face. “Ah…what am I supposed to say to that?”

You feel him shake beneath you and realize that he’s…laughing? Or trying hard not to laugh. You frown and turn your cheek against his skin.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you pout quietly. “I was just trying to be sweet…”

Yoongi’s head shifts on the pillow so he can look down at you, his eyes soft. He looks almost apologetic as he studies your face.

“Sorry,” he whispers. His fingers pull slowly through your locks. “But…you don’t have to try to be anything, you know.”

You shake your head slightly – just rocking your cheek against his chest.

“Not with you, I don’t.”

Yoongi’s lips part like he might speak – but then his shoulders come up off the bed, his body shiftingp to roll you on to your back. His large hand splays over your ribcage and he presses you into the sheets while he dips his head to kiss you. Taken off guard by the want that instantly blossoms in your belly, you press your palms against his chest to steady yourself as his lips move gently against yours.

You’re a little breathless when Yoongi pulls back only a moment later.

“Do you…do you want to stay here today?” he asks, eyes searching yours.

You bite your lip. “Here at your apartment, or…here in bed?”

His thumb brushes along the curve of your breast. “Whichever you want.”

You arch into Yoongi’s touch and reach for his wrist to still his hand.

“Well…staying in bed is very tempting,” you say, a little sheepish.

He hums in agreement, lips curving into a smile. “Extremely.”

“…But I think I need a shower,” you finish. “And coffee.”

Yoongi’s eyes light up.

-----

A half hour later, you hear the bathroom door open down the hall just as you set a kettle of water on the stove and turn on the burner.

Yoongi let you wash up first. He gave you free range of his sweatshirt collection after you left the shower wrapped in a soft towel; you skipped the sweatpants he put out for you and opted to warm up in just a big black hoodie. When you finally made your way to the kitchen – hair still damp against the nape of your neck – you found all the necessary components for coffee laid out neatly on the countertop: dark roast grounds, measuring spoon and scale, French press…you had to smile at Yoongi’s endless attention to detail and preparation.

The water soon reaches a boil and you lift the kettle from the gas burner before it starts to whistle. Pouring an even stream of water into the press chamber, the rich smell of coffee blooms under your nose and you watch as the grounds burble up as the container fills. You place the press on top of the chamber and reach for two mugs from the cabinet directly above you before waiting for the brew to steep.

Standing at the counter in Yoongi’s sweatshirt, you rub your knees together as a faint draft curls against your bare legs. The wood floor is warm beneath your feet and you relish at the way your inner thighs ache a bit as you shift your weight from one sole to the other. You don’t have much time to linger with these thoughts, though – the soft padding of footsteps comes from behind you and it’s all the warning you get before Yoongi sets his hands on your waist.

Warmth prickles up your arms in a smattering of goosebumps and you shiver as he presses his nose against your crown.

“You smell good,” he hums, his breath tickling your scalp.

“It’s your shampoo,” you answer as you push down the plunger of the French press. “So I would hope you like it.”

“Don’t be a brat,” Yoongi says – softly, no bite in his tone at all. “And this sweatshirt…”

“Um…also yours.”

His hands pull gently at the material over your waist, rubbing it between his fingers. “I like it better on you. I realize this is a huge cliché, but…I like seeing you in my clothes.”

“It's not like you've never seen me in them before today,” you tease, leaning some of your weight back against his chest. “I distinctly remember waking up in your bed, hungover as hell and swimming in one of your t-shirts.”

He laughs at that. “Yeah, but now I get to enjoy it.”

Something in the way he says it perks your interest. You turn your head slightly to the side.

“Now?”

You catch Yoongi’s smile out of the corner of your eye.

“Yeah. Now, you’re not hungover,” he murmurs, dipping his head to plant a kiss at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “You’re making me coffee…”

He kisses the nape of your neck before leaning close to your ear.

“…And I don’t have to hide my raging crush on you.”

You burst out laughing, too taken aback to even blush as you take your hands off the press and spin to face Yoongi.

“Crush??”

His smile turns shy though he laughs with you. “Yes – don’t say it like it’s such a big shock...”

“When did this crush start?” you ask, unable to stifle your curiosity.

Yoongi opens his mouth – but then promptly shuts it. Your jaw drops as he looks away, the tips of his ears going red.

“Oh, my God,” you giggle. “When?! Tell me!”

“I’m embarrassed!”

“Why?? I want to know!”

His brows knit together with worry. “Ah - you're going to think it’s weird...”

You swallow another laugh and slip your arms along his shoulders.

“No, I won’t,” you say as evenly as possible. “I’m going to think it’s sweet and kind of sexy and then I’m going to want to kiss you. A lot.”

He stays quiet, dark eyes studying yours. After a few long moments you sigh softly.

“Yoongs, seriously – I promise I won’t – “

“Third-floor practice-room. You were wearing a grey sweater, and your hair was down. It was longer then.”

You freeze, mouth falling slightly open as Yoongi holds you in a steady gaze.

“You were with the hoobaes,” he continues. “I heard you laughing, and…it made me feel warm.”

You make a tiny, incredulous noise – floored and touched and confused all at the same time.

“B-but – when…when was this?”

He pauses. “Maybe three months ago now.”

“Months?”

Yoongi nods.

“So…before the fundraiser? That night at the museum?”

“Yes.”

You pause, mind spinning as you calculate. “Before the ice tray incident?”

He chuckles. “I didn’t really realize how I felt at the time, but…yeah. Before that.”

You press your lips together, trying desperately not to make too big a deal out of this so as not to fluster him. “And all I did was laugh?”

Yoongi takes a deep breath. “I heard you from down the hall and I peeked in. You were talking to Yeonjun-ah, I think. He was…playing you something on the piano?”

Your heart swells. The melon song, you think. You nod.

“You were cracking up, whatever it was…you looked so happy, and relaxed and – I don’t know.” Yoongi’s mouth curves shyly again – shy but fond. “Your smile was just…really cute I guess.”

“YOU THOUGHT MY SMILE WAS CUTE?!”

Yoongi groans, dropping his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. “Y/N-ah – you said you wouldn’t!”

“I’m sorry!!” you whine loudly, tugging on his t-shirt. “I held it together for like two whole minutes, OK?? That’s the best I could do for you. I tried, but – I’m sorry. I’m a weak person.”

Yoongi opens his eyes only to roll them, ears flaming again but you don’t miss the smile on his lips. You pop up on the balls of your bare feet to bring your face closer to his.

“I’m sorry, I was just so surprised,” you reason, lowering your voice to a gentler volume. “I don’t hear that kind of thing often, you know?”

Yoongi’s exasperation fades and he meets your gaze again. His eyes are deep brown and solemn when he looks at you.

“You should hear it – all the time,” he says. The kitchen seems suddenly quieter than before. “I should have told you earlier...I should have told you every day.”

Your stomach flips and you bring your hands to Yoongi’s cheeks, drawing his face even nearer. You brush your nose against his, lingering in the sweetness of anticipation for a few long moments before kissing him. His mouth is soft, pliant. You feel him relax against you and his hands press into your sides through the fabric of his sweatshirt.

You pull back after a bit and he rests his forehead against yours.

“Are you going to confess now – tell me when you started crushing on me?” Yoongi says – half kidding, you think, but you can see the curiosity and earnest in his eyes.

You consider making a joke – saying something to lighten the moment but you’re hushed by the steady throbbing of your heart and the tight feeling in your belly. Instead you smile softly, leaning in for another kiss.

“Do you still want coffee?” you whisper against his lips a moment later. “Or do you want me to remind you what I look like out of your clothes…”

Yoongi blinks at you, his mouth spreading in a slow smile after a second. His hand tightens on your waist.

“Bedroom?” he asks.

“No.” You shake your head and reach for the hem of his hoodie. “Here.”

Chapter Text

MYG [10:44]: i swear my knees still hurt

You snort.

Not a sexy reaction, considering the sexy memory that Yoongi’s text brings up. You briefly recall your heated encounter in his kitchen two days ago – the one that started at the counter and ended up with you on your hands and knees, your joints taking a beating on the hardwood floor as Yoongi fucked you only feet away from the nice, plush rug in front of his sink.

The two of you are sitting in a conference room – along with Bang Sihyuk, Slow Rabbit, Hoseok, another producer whose name you can’t remember and two managers. You’re in the middle of a meeting but still you slouch a bit in your chair, turtling your head into the neck of your hoodie to hide the flush in your cheeks.

Y/N [10:47]: same

MYG [10:47]: worth it though

Y/N [10:47]: hmm. i suppose.

MYG [10:48]: ????

MYG [10:48]: you almost cried when you came

Y/N [10:50]: no. that was you, remember?

Across the table, the corner of Yoongi’s mouth lifts.

MYG [10:51]: oh

MYG [10:51]: yeah that was me nvm

You smile, trying your best not to look up and make eye contact with him.

Y/N [10:53]: did you shake a few brain cells loose or something?

MYG [10:56]: probably. willing to lose a few more if you wanna meet up in gl later?

Y/N [10:58]: wow. studio sex.

Y/N [10:58]: you are such a cliche

MYG [11:00]: hey

MYG [11:00]: i’m sorry

MYG [11:02]: i’m at the dorms tonight. it’s better than dorm sex, trust me

Y/N [11:03]: i take it you know this from experience?

Yoongi is the one who glances up first, a hint of surprise in his eyes as one of his brows quirks up briefly. He looks away quickly.

MYG [11:06]: ha

MYG [11:07]: this is a weird time to be getting into that

You shift in your seat. You were totally kidding in that text you fired off – but now you’re wondering about the implications of your own question.

Why is Yoongi uncomfortable? Is he mad now? Is he having a ton of dorm sex??

Y/N [11:10]: don’t say “ha”

Y/N [11:10]: you did not “ha,” i’m sitting right here

It’s so easy to slip into grilling him, given your past and your penchant for cracking jokes when things get tense. You can’t read Yoongi’s face as he looks down at his phone so you keep typing.

Y/N [11:12]: i was kidding. sorry.

Yoongi’s thumbs type at his screen for a while. His fingers eventually still and he blinks down at his phone before slipping it in his pocket. You glance down.

No text.

Your mind starts to race. Did he type out a whole text and delete it? Was he texting someone else? You feel like a high schooler with all these questions running through your head but you can’t help the nervous feeling in your gut. Nervous like you crossed a line, and once again you’re not sure where you stand with Yoongi.

“Y/N-ssi?”

Bang Sihyuk’s voice interrupts your little spiral and you look over to where he sits.

“We were hoping that in Namjoon-ssi’s absence, you could fill us in on any updates from the songwriter’s workgroup,” he says. “It sounds like several tracks have come together recently, no?”

You clear your throat and sit up straighter in your chair, sliding your phone down your thigh and out of sight.

“Yes, a few,” you start. “I’ve only helped with a couple songs so far, but – Namjoon-ssi has been busy. The last time we spoke he’d had new drafts sent from Los Angeles…he said he’s feeling hopeful about all of the solos – at least at this point.”

Across the table, Hoseok nods along. “He said he’s finished with his intro, too.”

“And Yoongi-yah?” Sihyuk peers at the producer. “I heard you had your final recording session.”

Yoongi raises his chin slightly. “The master should be in your inbox.”

“I’ll try to finish mine quickly, PD-nim,” Hoseok chimes in – a hint of anxiety in his voice.

Sihyuk adjust his glasses. “Send it when it’s ready. These things can’t be rushed, right?”

There’s a murmur of general agreement from around the table. Sihyuk set his elbows on the tabletop and runs his finger over a tablet in front of him.

“We have the masters for two potential title tracks, which means we can begin to consider a release date…”

Quietly, you push your chair back from the table and give a shallow bow as you stand. Talk about official comeback dates is usually your cue to leave – while you may be a part of the songwriting process on their new album, Bangtan’s upcoming body of work is still mostly under-wraps and above your pay grade. You have a bunch of work to get to, anyway, so you’re glad to excuse yourself early.

Careful as always, Yoongi’s eyes stay trained on Sihyuk as you head for the door. You’ve gotten used to this part – playing it cool, never paying one another more attention than is completely necessary while in the presence of other people – but today the lack of regard stings a bit as you slip into the hallway. Your mind is still on your text exchange with Yoongi when you catch an elevator and ride it down to the bottom floor.

As soon as the doors slide open, a jag of loud laughter cleaves through the air.

“Jimin-ssi!! Come on – “

You don’t have to look far to find the source of the racket: Jungkook and Jimin are walking out of the café past the end of the elevator bank, tray of coffees in the youngest member’s hands as they head in your direction. Jungkook has a pout on his face and his ears are red; Jimin is nearly doubled over with laughter, freshly-dyed blonde hair falling in his eyes as he cackles at the maknae.

“J-Jungkookie,” he wheezes, straightening up and bringing his wrist toward his mouth to hide his glee. “Don’t be so shy!”

Jungkook opens his mouth to reply but then he spots you – his eyes going round as he quickens his pace to make a beeline for where you’re stepping off the lift.

“Y/N-noona – help me??”

Jungkook’s voice is so pained that you almost want to wrap him in a hug. You look between the two men with curious eyes as the maknae sidles up close to you, tucking his large mass near your shoulder as if he could use your body to hide from Jimin.

“What’s up with you two?” you ask, barely holding back a laugh. You look at Jimin. “Are you torturing Kook?”

The dancer clicks his tongue, a wide smile forcing his cheeks up until they nearly hide his eyes. “Ah – barely…Jungkoo-ah was just about to tell me a secret.”

You raise your eyebrows. “A secret?”

Jungkook makes a fussy noise – something between exasperation and embarrassment. He tugs on your arm.

“Don’t listen to him. Walk with us to practice, though?”

You hesitate. “Um – I was here for coffee, but – “

“Here,” Jimin says brightly, reaching to pluck a cup from the cardboard tray in Jungkook’s hand. “Have Namjoon-hyung’s. He’s trying to cut back.”

You splutter a bit when the dancer presses the cup into your palm. “Oh – are you sure…?”

“Mm,” Jungkook chirps as he dips his head to take a big sip from a straw poking out from one of the coffees. “’S OK. Hyung loves you.”

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You flush, and Jimin laughs brightly.

“You can’t say things like that, Jungkookie,” he scolds, grinning.

“What?” Jungkook pipes. “Noona knows what I mean – Namjoon-hyung loves her like a friend. And she probably feels the same way.”

“Um – I mean – OK, y-yeah,” you stammer.

“Love is a strong word,” Jimin counters sagely.

“So?”

“So you don’t want to give her the wrong idea,” Jimin continues. “Saying that hyung loves Y/N-ssi could make her uncomfortable.”

“But I don’t mean it like you’re saying it right now,” Jungkook argues, turning his body toward Jimin as the three of you move down the hall. “We say it to each other all the time, hyung!”

“Y/N-ssi isn’t a man – “

You try to cut in. “Guys – I’m literally, like, right here. Can we not?”

“– and all I’m saying is that word can be confusing if you don’t explain it fully.”

Jungkook huffs. “Whatever…I think she gets the point.”

“But you don’t know if she does. She could think you mean love like how friends feel about each other.” Jimin pauses, a mischievous smile spreading over his face as his eyes slide to you. You freeze with your coffee cup halfway to your mouth. “Or…she could think you mean the other kind of love. Like how Yoongi feels ab – “

“So what’s up with this secret of yours?!”

You box Jimin out as you blurt the question, turning to Jungkook and pinning him with a pointed look. He blushes instantly and his eyes drop to the floor.

“Oh – ah…it’s nothing, noona.”

Jimin giggles beside you and throws an arm around your shoulder. You fight the urge to shove him off.

“I’ll tell you: Jungkook asked me for advice about someone he’s been texting but he won’t say who it is.”

“Texting?” you ask, confused.

Jimin wiggles his eyebrows. “Texting.”

“Ohh…”

You nod slowly and Jungkook looks about ready to melt into the carpet. He starts to trudge behind the group as you reach the door to the stairwell, mouth forming the shape of words though no sound comes out. He scratches at the nape of his neck while Jimin lets the two of you onto the landing.

“He won’t even tell me if it’s a girl or a guy,” the dancer says to you.

“Hyung!”

You roll your eyes at Jimin and wait for Jungkook to catch up so you can wrap your arms around his slim waist. You’re glad to see that he looks flustered, but not sad; his hair has been trimmed since you saw him last and it makes him look even younger, softer than usual.

“You’re a brat, you know that?” you say to Jimin.

The dancer gives you an angelic smile. “Only if you say so, noona.”

The three of you start up the stairs, Jungkook hanging beside you as you take each flight slowly. He murmurs a quiet thank you and you try to turn the topic back on the older member.

“Besides – you guys must have rules about these things, right?”

Jimin looks at you over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

You shrug. “About dating and telling.”

“We don’t date,” Jungkook says quickly.

Both you and Jimin roll your eyes this time.

“OK – sure,” you reply. “I get that’s the rule, but…things happen.”

Jimin hums. “It’s hard. We can’t let BigHit know, that’s one thing – but keeping it private from each other…hm.”

You watch the dancer’s slippered-feet as they shuffle up the steps ahead of you. “It must be tricky. Sharing a dorm and all…”

The two men laugh.

“Ah – yeah,” Jimin grins. “Thankfully most of us have our own flats, that helps a lot…”

“But sometimes the dorm can be awkward,” Jungkook supplies, grinning. “Like that time Hobi-hyung – “

“Yah!!”

Jimin cuts him off, swinging around to fix the maknae with a scolding expression. The younger man clamps his mouth shut and you laugh.

“I’m…not gonna ask,” you say, shaking your head. “I didn’t mean to pry. I was just curious how it works.”

“It doesn’t really work,” Jimin sighs, slowing as he reaches the entrance to the fifth floor. “Having an apartment helps, but – there’s a reason we say we don’t date. And it’s not just because of what BigHit tells us we have to say to fans or journalists.”

He gives his explanation in a softer tone, turning his eyes to you as you step into the hallway with the two men. You get the feeling he’s watching you closely; you try to keep your face relaxed as you nod.

“Makes sense,” you say quietly, taking a sip from your coffee cup. “But hey – I have a practice-room booked downstairs that I gotta get to. I guess I’ll leave you guys here?”

Jungkook frowns. “Noo – stay a little longer! Come watch us dance.”

“You should stick around if you can,” Jimin smiles, his eyes creasing warmly – though there’s still a hint of trouble there. “You’ve never seen Namjoon-hyung learn new choreo, have you?”

You’re still in the practice-room by the time the third floor clears out for the night. Your schedule was delayed for a good hour or so after the maknaes invited you to dance practice – only half the group was there but it was still a hilarious and effective distraction from the workday you’d planned for yourself.

Different melodies and rhythms have been swirling around in your head over the last two weeks – some coming to you in snatches, some in seemingly endless loops. You haven’t had time to get them out of your head beyond humming them into your voice memo app so you decided to stay later tonight to flesh them out on the piano.

You’ve never considered yourself a musician, per se – you can noodle around on guitar pretty well and you took bass lessons in high school, but beyond that you don’t have a particular knack for any one instrument. Learning your way around the piano has always been perfunctory but lately you’ve come to feel a little attached to the old baby grand that’s tucked away in a room on the third floor. You made sure you’d have it to yourself tonight, having developed a strong preference for its sound over the keyboards in any of the shared studio spaces.

You’ve almost figured out how to play the slow, dreamy little tune that’s been on your mind since this morning – and then your phone rings.

You grab for it and pause when you see the caller listed on the screen. It’s almost on its last ring when you swipe to answer the call.

“…Hey, Joo.”

There’s a brief silence, and then a soft chuckle from the other end of the phone.

“Didn’t think you’d still call me that.”

“Mm. Well…old habits die hard.”

He doesn’t say anything immediately, and for a moment you wonder about your word choice. The pause this time is long enough for you to notice the way your heartbeat feels like it’s caught in your throat. 

“…You still there?”

“Yeah. Sorry,” he replies. There’s a rustling noise on his end. “Are you…how are you?”

“I’m alright. You?”

“…Is this a bad time?”

“No,” you say quickly. “I’m at work, but it’s quiet here. I’m…it’s good to hear your voice.”

“Yeah – ah…same,” he says awkwardly. You can tell this is hard for him. “I wanted to call you sooner, but – “

“It’s OK.”

“…Minhyuk said he saw you the other week.”

You smile, even though he can’t see you. “Did he?”

“Mm.”

“…And what did Minnie have to say about it?”

“He said you looked good…and that I’m an idiot, and that I should call you,” he says flatly. “Well – actually he said we’re both idiots.”

Unable to stop yourself, you let a laugh slip out. “That does sound like him.”

“Yeah. It was hard to argue with his logic,” Jooheon adds, with more warmth in his voice than before. He clears his throat. “Look…Y/N-ah – “

Your breath catches. Flashes of the night he showed up at your apartment pop into your head but you hold them at bay.

“There are…a million things I want to say to you,” Jooheon explains carefully. “Most of them I don’t want to say over the phone, if I don’t have to. Minhyuk said he told you about our tour – I wanted to call and…and just see if you’d pick up, really – but also if you’d maybe want to come to a show to see the members and…me.”

You let out a breath of relief. “Of course, Joo. I already told Minhyuk I would.”

You can hear the smile in his voice when he answers. “I wanted to ask you myself.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, but…it was the right thing to do,” he says evenly. “I need you to know that I’m sorry, and…I’m thinking about you. I didn’t know how to reach out but I hope we can talk when we meet.”

Anxiety mixes in with the relief you feel – but only a tiny bit. You switch your phone to the other ear.

“That sounds good. Let me know how to get tickets?”

“Yeah. I’ll text you.”

“’K. See you soon, then.”

You drop your hands into your lap after he hangs up, shoulders sagging a bit as your nerves start to die off. You’d been planning to call Jooheon ever since meeting up with Minhyuk, but it was just too easy to come up with an excuse to put it off every time the thought came up. You know Jooheon isn’t the type to beat around the bush about an issue but still you’re surprised – and grateful – that he decided to break the ice first.

Your phone goes off again, giving you a startle but you’re relieved to see that it’s just a text rather than another call. You lift it up and unlock the screen to find a text from Jimin. There’s a picture attached.

Squinting at the image, you realize it’s a snapshot from what looks like a dressing room of some kind. In the center is Yoongi: sat in a metal chair with his arms folded over his chest, a towel draped around his shoulders and one leg crossed elegantly over the other. He’s got his head tipped back and his mouth is slightly open and you let out a quiet, surprised laugh when you realize he’s dead asleep in the picture. A make-up artist appears to be working on his brows and Jungkook is lurking in the background doing aegyo but Yoongi appears completely unbothered. Smiling softly, you press your thumb over the image and save it to your phone.

You swipe out of the attachment to check the chat and see that Jimin sent it to a group – including you, the entire maknae line, Hoseok and Yoongi.

jm [9:15]: first thing i saw at the shoot today

jm [9:15]: thought you’d enjoy :)

Before you can type anything, the chat starts filling with replies from the other members

JK [9:18]: ahhhh hahaha !

JK [9:18]: hyung is going to kill you !!!!!

tete [9:18]: bad jiminie :)

JK [9:18]: !!!!!!!!!!!!

hobi [9:20]: BAD JIMINIE :) :) :)

jm [9:22]: should i show army

tete [9:22]: yes

hobi [9:22]: YES

JK [9:23]: nooooo

JK [9:23]: save it for hyung’s bday or something

JK [9:23]: good tier content :)

You grin and open up the keyboard.

Y/N [9:24]: it’s “god tier” kookie

Y/N [9:24]: someone make sure their hyung gets some real sleep, OK?

JK [9:25]: hehe

JK [9:25]: sorry noona

hobi [9:25]: hey……y/n-ah is so responsible!!!!

hobi [9:26]: we will make sure :)

jm [9:27]: hmmmmm noona is so caring!!!!!

tete [9:27]: wowww sweet noona !

jm [9:27]: ……..

jm [9:28]: esp about yoongi-hyung ;)

You roll your eyes.

Y/N [9:28]: you ALL need to get more sleep

Y/N [9:28]: brats

JK [9:29]: ???? i am not a brat!!

“I got some more sleep on the ride back, just for the record.”

Your head snaps up and you swivel around to see Yoongi standing in the doorway, one hand wrapped around his phone as he locks it and slips it into the pocket of his jeans. One corner of his mouth lifts.

You brush your hair back from your face and turn on the piano bench to face him.

“Hey…”

“Hey,” he replies, eyes drifting to where your notebook rests on the piano lid. He leans against the doorframe. “What are you working on?”

“Oh – just some stuff I’ve had in my head,” you offer, scratching the back of your neck. “Earlier I was learning the chords for this song Joon’s writing – or, well…trying to learn. Hopefully.”

Yoongi nods but doesn’t say anything. You lick your lips.

“You’re not going home?”

He gives a small shrug and strolls into the room a little ways. “Nah…not yet. Thought I’d wander a bit, see who’s around.”

Yoongi pauses in the middle of the practice-room. His hair is crushed under a cap and there are faint circles under his eyes – telltale signs of a long day on set somewhere. Despite this, his eyes are sharp as he holds you in a calm, level gaze.

You rub your hands over the fabric of your pants, pressing your thumbs into your thighs nervously.

“And you’re not…mad at me? About that text?”

Yoongi shakes his head. Your shoulders drop a little, loosening with relief.

“No,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry. I got…weird, earlier.”

You stand up. “No – I was joking, but I asked something that wasn’t OK. It’s none of my business.”

He watches as you edge closer to him, crossing your arms over your stomach. He blinks.

“It could be your business,” he comments, making you falter in your steps. “I was taken off guard, that’s all. I should have said something sooner but I was just so busy today.”

“It’s fine,” you assure him. “I wanted to…give you space.”

Yoongi shifts on his feet. You’re only a foot or so away now, and the short silence that stretches between you seems to crackle with a different tension than before.

“You know…if you ever do want to talk, or – ask me anything…I want you to ask.”

His words send a little thrill through your veins – half anxiety, half delight. You swallow it back and think of what Jimin said earlier, in the stairwell.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Yoongi’s eyes flick back and forth, the warm dark of his gaze panning over your face carefully. He takes one slow step forward, narrowing the space between you even further.

“You don’t want to know about my past hookups?” he asks, voice pitched low and even. “Who I’ve slept with?”

You work to keep your face perfectly calm, though you’re surprised and slightly irritated by the sting that comes from his question – not jealousy, exactly…but something equally bitter.

You can’t help but think that he’s waiting to see your reaction, so you put on a smile and shake your head.

“No,” you answer. “That’s yours to know. I don’t need to make it mine.”

He bobs his head a couple times and there’s another quiet pause. Yoongi’s hands fiddle with the pockets of his jeans and his eyes sweep around the room briefly before he clears his throat.

“So,” he starts, almost murmuring. “Are we…OK?”

Real warmth creeps into the smile you’d been forcing just moments before.

“We’re OK.”

Yoongi looks back into your eyes for a few long beats. He glances over his shoulder at the open door where the hall is dim and quiet. When he turns back around, he leans in close to kiss you.

It’s little more than a graze but it’s intoxicating, sending your belly into a strange and sudden freefall while your blood seems to run warmer, thicker in your veins. His lips press faintly over yours – just enough pressure to leave you craving more though you know you can’t get carried away here. Your mind gets hazy quick and when Yoongi pulls back, you move to follow him – leaning forward on to the balls of your feet so your noses just brush.

He reaches for your elbow, letting the pads of his fingers trace over your skin there while he waits for your eyes to focus on his again.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” he says softly.

Chapter Text

“…So did you guys bone?”

A laugh mixes in with the panting breaths slipping from your lips. You adjust your elbows on the cushy mat below you, pushing your weight back toward the balls of your feet.

“No, we didn’t bone,” you answer, whispering. “And keep your voice down!”

You hear Songhee make a disappointed scoff from beside you. You’re both in the middle of a pilates class, dripping sweat and currently locked into a painfully long forearm plank. She blows a wisp of hair from in front of her face with a little puff of air.

“Then where did he take you??”

“We just…went and got something to eat…”

Your mind drifts back as you recount some of the night. You snuck out of the BigHit building with Yoongi, tittering with nerves even though he was covered up with a hat, facemask and hood. Yoongi was in the mood for something spicy so you were glad to find the little restaurant around the corner almost completely empty. Aside from the grey-haired lady at the front counter, the only other people around were a cook and a sleepy-looking man nursing a beer and a plate of fries.

You ordered jjamppong and waited quietly by the register for your takeaway while an old pop song played over a speaker mounted near the entrance, the music barely audible above the noise from the kitchen. Beside you, Yoongi peered around at the restaurant with sharp, curious eyes and you figured he’d probably never been there despite working so close by. There was really nothing to look at inside but still he seemed strangely pleased to take it all in, making little comments here and there about the décor or the history of other businesses on the block.

He quieted after a while and stood close to you, his elbow just brushing yours whenever he’d shift on his feet. At one point, the grey-haired woman disappeared into the kitchen for a minute and you startled a little when Yoongi nudged your side.

You looked to him right as he tugged his facemask down, freeing his nose and mouth so he could lean in and press a kiss at your temple. A funny feeling started just behind your breastbone – a feeling like a small balloon was inflating there, fixing to burst when you caught the way Yoongi’s eyes creased as he hitched his mask up again.

There was no way you could reach for him there, even disguised as he was in the mostly deserted restaurant. You settled for hooking a single finger into the back pocket of his jeans, anchoring yourself to him and smiling each time he bumped his leg against yours while you waited for your food.

“You went to a restaurant?” Songhee asks, collapsing on to her mat. She pants while the other women in class quickly transition into the next exercise. “Like, in public and shit??”

You shake your head and reach for a resistance band, shifting so you’re sat on your butt while you tug the band up your legs until it’s just below your knees.

“No, no – we got takeaway,” you explain. You let out a quiet groan as you flop on to your back and set up for a pelvic bridge. “We went back to his studio to eat.”

Songhee skips the band and settles on to her back, craning her neck to look at your face.

“…And?”

“And…nothing happened, really,” you say, doing your best to shrug while you lift your hips up off the mat. “We just ate and hung out and listened to music. Like, not even music we’re working on – which was so nice, actually – ”

The class instructor calls out a rhythm and you try to follow along, dipping and thrusting your hips each time she gives a count. Songhee’s brow furrows as she keeps up in half-time.

“So you didn’t have sex?”

“Nah,” you pant. “We made out a bit, but…I think we were both tired.”

“…But you are fucking, right?”

You break form long enough to swipe a hand across your damp forehead. “Yup.”

“God,” Songhee breathes, and you can hear the grin in her voice. “Incredible. So proud of you.”

“Thanks…I think.”

“And it’s good, right?”

“It’s good.”

“Like – is it good good, or just – “

“Songhee – it’s good,” you huff, trying to focus through the burn in your butt and legs. “Like, forget-my-own-name good.”

The instructor finishes her counting and you let out a sigh as your hips drop to the mat. Songhee rolls over and reaches for her water bottle, watching you with a puzzled look on her face.

“OK – so…you know the sex is bomb, yet you were cooped up in a studio together at night and didn’t get it in?”

You roll your eyes even as a smile tugs at your lips. “We were tired – and honestly, it was great to talk about music for a bit without it having anything to do with work. He has really good taste – I should send you one of his playlists…”

Songhee nods slowly as she looks at you. The other women in class are beginning to get up, chattering a bit as they stretch or roll up their mats; you’re already pulling up a music app on your phone.

“This might be a weird question, but…does, uh, PD-nim know about Jooheon?”

Your eyes flick to Songhee’s. “J- …what?”

“Jooheon,” she repeats, quieter so only you can hear. “I just wondered since you mentioned he’s…reaching out again.”

You blink, surprised and a little wary of what she might be getting at.

“Oh. I…I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like it’s a secret...”

You move to the bottom of your mat and fold the end over to start rolling it. Songhee stays seated.

“…But you haven’t talked about it, have you?”

“No, I guess not,” you answer, bristling slightly. “Joo and I were only ever friends, so…it seems kinda random to bring it up, doesn’t it?”

Songhee pauses for a long beat and then shrugs. “Sure. Yeah.”

You both pack up your stuff in silence. Your mind races a bit, a tinge of anxiety lighting in your stomach while you follow Songhee down the hallway toward the locker room. You’re both quiet while you swap out your equipment for the clean clothes you’d stashed in the community lockers – but you know Songhee well enough to be sure she’s just figuring out what to say next.

As you wait in line for the showers, Songhee turns to you again.

“Sorry,” she says softly. You recognize the apologetic look in her eye. “That was a rude question to ask back there.”

You shake your head, surprised. “Oh – no, it’s cool – “

“It just seems like you…maybe really like PD-nim,” she continues carefully, holding your gaze.

You blanch, the unease in your gut exploding into a rush of nervous energy. You squeeze your towel against your chest while Songhee talks.

“…Like maybe what you guys are doing is a little more than hooking up?”

“N-no – “

Your voice comes out stuttered but you hide it in a rushed laugh. Songhee raises an eyebrow.

“ – No way. He’s an idol, Songhee,” you emphasize. “I do like him and we get along when we’re together, but beyond that…I’m sure it’s purely physical.”

Three women leave the showers and you amble forward in line. Songhee stays quiet, clearly chewing on what you just said. You put on a smile and nudge her shoulder.

“Seriously – we’re just fucking, like you said,” you press. “OK?”

She nods. “If you say so, but…does he know that?”

“I – “

You stop short, taken off-guard by her question; Songhee stares at you, waiting for your reply. After a few long, awkward moments go by, she sighs.

“You need to make sure he does.”

You swallow thickly. “But – I mean, he probably – “

“When are you seeing him again?”

“Um…tonight,” you answer, starting to fluster. “He’s supposed to come over after his schedule’s finished. What do I – “

“Talk to him,” she presses. Songhee places a hand on your forearm. “I know it’s uncomfortable, but if you’re certain of where you stand then you need to make sure he’s on the same page.”

You squirm. “I guess that makes sense…”

“I’m serious!” she continues. “He’s your coworker and you do not want things to get messy – right?”

“Yeah. Yeah no, I don’t.”

“Then talk to him. Before you sleep with him again, preferably,” she emphasizes, eyeing you knowingly. “Don’t let him stroll into your place tonight looking all sexy, making you swoon and forget your mission – “

You snort.

“ – Just cut to the chase and be open with him. I promise it’ll be for the best.”

“Cut to the chase,” you repeat, nodding once and steeling yourself as the line moves forward again. “OK. I can do that.”

Songhee pats your arm. “That’s my girl. Now…should we get lunch after this? Drinks?”

Yanking your baggiest sweatshirt down over your head, you march out of your room into the hall.

It’s late and you’re feeling determined. You shut the door to your bedroom behind you, mentally sealing off any possibility of ending up in there with Yoongi until you’ve had the talk that Songhee prescribed. The longer you thought about it, the more you realized she was right – you needed to make sure you were clear on a few points before going any further with this thing.

You flick on the bathroom light and start wrangling your hair into a sloppy bun.

“Cut to the chase,” you murmur to yourself. “Simple as that…”

You scrub off your makeup and hustle through your skincare routine. You’re not sure when Yoongi will show up, but he did text about an hour ago saying he was heading out in a bit. You’ve been keyed up since then despite all your efforts to stay calm and level-headed.

Wandering out to the kitchen, you open up your fridge but think twice before pouring yourself a glass of wine. Drinking is maybe the worst thing you can do right now, you think, slamming the fridge door shut before scooting into the living room – drinking leads to feeling relaxed…which leads to loosening up, which definitely leads to getting seduced by Min Yoongi.

A handful of days have passed since you’d last been in his bed – not a long stretch by any means, but that little bit of abstinence has been wearing on you nonetheless. Songhee’s assignment somehow made the itch worse and all afternoon you’ve been trying like hell to avoid thinking about Yoongi.

Unfortunately, you’ve realized, it’s all too easy to slip into a quick fantasy about his hands on your skin.

Or his body – how the weight of him feels…

Or his lips. Or –  

A knock at the door interrupts your train of thought and you jump at the sound. Scurrying across the wood floor in your hall, you take a deep breath and pause at the threshold before prying it open.

As soon as you see Yoongi stood in the doorway, you realize something’s off.

“Hey – what’s wrong??”

Yoongi’s face is pale – paler than normal – and his brows are creased where they’re pulled together in a strange, pinched way. You spot tension in the set of his mouth and jaw as he steps inside and you close the door behind him.

“Nothing – “

He’s dressed in jeans and a sweater and a puffer coat. He moves to shed the outer layer but stops short – drawing a quick breath in through his teeth as he slows to peel the sleeves of the garment carefully from his arms. You reach to help him.

“I came from physical therapy,” he says stiffly. “I think…my shoulder – it’s just hurting, that’s all.”

You follow close behind as he shuffles toward your couch, clutching his coat in your hands as you go. You watch nervously while he places the palm of his right hand over his left shoulder and shifts it in a small, circular motion. Yoongi grimaces.

“Um – here – “

You toss his coat over the back of the couch and gesture toward the piece of furniture.

“Sit,” you say hurriedly, heart thudding with worry. You drop onto one of the cushions and place your hands on his waist, steadying his weight as he lowers down between you and the arm of the couch.

“I got it – ”

Yoongi gently clips the words out – he’s a little short of breath but you can tell he’s straining not to be short with you. He briefly squeezes your hand where it’s pressed against his side, letting out a big huff of air as he drops his head back.

“Yoongs – is this…normal?” you ask.

“Mm. Yeah.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and you notice his hand his still clasped over his shoulder. You shift anxiously.

“How often does it hurt this much?”

He’s quiet for a moment, catching his breath. “Not all the time. Sometimes it gets worse after an appointment, but…I’ll call my manager. See if I can get a shot tomorrow.”

You wince. “A shot?”

He nod, swallows. “Cortisone. It helps.”

You open and close your mouth, unsure of what to say. Everything you’d been gearing up for seems totally irrelevant now and the sight of Yoongi in discomfort – in pain – is setting off all kinds of intense and unfamiliar feelings for you. You lay a hand on his knee in an awkward, stiff way.

“Is there…can I do anything?”

He shakes his head slightly, side to side. You frown.

“You’re fine,” he says. “Just – come here.”

Without opening his eyes, Yoongi brings his right arm wide and makes a space for you to slip beneath it and scoot in close to him. He props his body against the side of the couch and pulls you tight against him, bringing both arms to wrap around your middle. Your shoulders press against his chest and you have to crane your neck around to see his face.

“Are you sure??” you ask, voice strained. “I can – “

“I’m sure,” he cuts you off. The lines between his brows are starting to smooth out. “Not so many questions, princess. Please.”

“Sorry!! S-sorry,” you say quickly. “I’ll stop.”

“Thank you.”

You chew on your lip, turning to face away from him again – but you only manage to stay quiet for about thirty seconds more.

“If you want me to do anything else, just tell me…”

“This is what I want,” Yoongi answers. His voice is soft now, and his arms tighten around your waist a bit.

“…Just sitting here?”

“Yes. Sitting here, on the couch, being normal,” he murmurs and gives a weary little sigh. “That’s all I want – to be normal. Normal and lazy, just for a while.”

There are a million thoughts and questions flitting through your mind, but you can hear the exhaustion in his voice – not just from whatever happened today, but a bigger kind of exhaustion. A kind of tired that’s written into his bones by his job and the strange lifestyle that comes along with it. You’d do anything to stop him from feeling pain right now – but you have to wonder if his shoulder might be the only thing that gives him permission to slow down sometimes.

You cover his hands with yours, hugging his forearms closer to you. Yoongi makes a little humming noise and you gently let your head fall back against his right shoulder, just beneath his chin.

“What did you do today?”

He asks the question so quietly that you almost miss it. You rub your thumb over the back of his hand.

“I slept in a bit,” you answer, pitching your voice soft and low. “Had coffee, did some work at home. Went to pilates, which I pretty much never do anymore…have you ever tried it?”

“Mm.”

“I went with my friend Songhee. I think I’ve mentioned her before…”

You walk him through your day, taking time with certain details and drawing out the parts you think might make him laugh. He makes soft sounds to indicate his reactions: a grunt when you tell him about getting splashed by a car on the street; something closer to a purr when you mention how you took a nap to make sure you could stay up and see him. Eventually he quiets completely and you feel the rise and fall of his chest even out, slowing down until you’re certain he’s fallen asleep.

It's chilly in your living room but Yoongi feels warm, so you stay where you are for a while. His palm twitches against your belly and you smile at the way his socked feet are stretched way out under the coffee table, splayed in different directions as he lies totally relaxed on the couch. Curious, you twist around to see his face.

With his eyes closed, his lashes seem especially thick and long. You think you’ll never get sick of the way his skin looks: pulled smooth and taut like silk across the bridge of his nose; gathering in soft tucks at the corner of his eyes. You reach a hand up and stroke your thumb across his cheekbone, repeating the motion gently until Yoongi stirs and makes a quiet noise in his throat.

You move to pull your hand back but his fingers find your wrist, stilling you. Yoongi’s eyelids flutter but stay closed, his lips moving sleepily as he holds you in place.

“Feels…”

You hold your breath and watch his face closely. Yoongi’s thumb lies over your pulse, warm against your wrist.

“You…make me feel…”

You press your fingertips over his lips to still their movement and he hushes easily. You peel his hand from your wrist so he can’t feel the way your heart is racing.

“Come on,” you whisper, pushing against his chest to start to lift yourself up from the couch. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

Yoongi’s eyes barely crack open but he follows obediently. He lets you help him up from the cushions, the hair on the back of his head sticking up funnily as he leans some of his weight on your shoulder while you lead him down the hallway to the bedroom. Once inside, he shuffles his jeans down over his thighs, stepping out of each pantleg with some difficulty – you hide a smile at the sight and slip away to the bathroom.

You search around for a toothbrush and something to give him for his shoulder, though you don’t really have much that’s likely to help. You scrounge up a few pills and fetch a glass of water, but when you step back into your room you find Yoongi curled up in your bed and fast asleep.

Leaving the water on the nightstand, you change and crawl into the sheets beside him. He doesn’t budge when you reach across his body to shut off the light. The hum of your ceiling fan blends with the faint sounds of his breath and soon you’re lost to plush cradle of your bed.

It’s late – maybe almost morning – when you wake. You stir at the touch of Yoongi’s hands, warm where they follow the curves of your body to pull you from sleep. It’s pitch black in your room but you find his lips easily in the dark and shiver at the heat of his breath against your face and neck. With half-clumsy fingers you peel thin layers of sleep clothes from each other’s bodies, moving quickly like you’re hungry to have nothing but skin between you.

***

There’s an exchange of a few hushed words – only what’s necessary to make sure his shoulder isn’t hurting before you reach your fingers into the drawer of the table by your bed. Yoongi sheaths his cock quickly and quietly and your heart is fluttering in your throat by the time he moves his weight over you.

He fucks you slowly, purposefully – each stroke warm and wet and electric. The dark presses against your ears and eyes, leaving you to be consumed fully by the shifting sensations of Yoongi moving against you and inside of you. The stillness in your bedroom is broken by a few soft gasps, the sound of lips finding skin; something about the late hour feels too precious for words, so you don’t use them.

Need coils in your belly, tightening until you feel almost overwhelmed. You find your way on top of Yoongi – knees pressed into the mattress while your palms plant on his chest. Your hips stutter a bit before finding their rhythm and Yoongi’s voice slips through the darkness.

“Y/N-ah – the light,” he rasps, breathless. “Can I…wanna see you…”

You sigh some kind of reply and then light breaks over you, casting the insides of your eyelids a blazing orange before you force them open.

Yoongi’s hair is tousled, fanned out on the pillow in messy pieces. His mouth is bitten-pink, hanging slightly open and you could cry at how beautiful he looks under you – the lines of muscle in his chest and stomach deepened by the warm lampglow and the way he clenches when you plunge down on to his length; his skin pale and soft as cream.

With other lovers on other nights, you’d shrink at the idea of being under the lamplight like this: straddled atop their hips, face and body bare with your hair in tangles from sleep. But somehow, in Yoongi’s gaze, all your self-consciousness fades and you almost preen at the feeling of his eyes on your skin.

Your spine bows and you cant your hips slower; Yoongi grips your thighs and you let the warmth of his palms anchor you as your eyes slip shut. Your fingers find their way into your hair, letting your body take over as you chase the knot of pleasure that’s twisting deep inside you where Yoongi fills you up. He feels harder each time you slide down his cock and your abs tighten when you feel him start to twitch, a high-pitched rush of air leaving your lungs as your orgasm breaks suddenly over your body.

Soft halos of light glow behind your eyelids and all sound seems to slip away for a moment. Your body stills and it’s all you can do just to stay upright while you wait for the swell to reach its crest. Your throat feels tight when you come to, finding yourself whimpering and shuddering your way through the last surges of heat. Your palms are slick where they somehow ended up on Yoongi’s chest again.

“Did – did you…?”

Your eyes open to find Yoongi’s looking back at you, his brows knitted together with question. Behind the disbelief in his eyes there’s hunger, and through the haze in your mind you realize he hasn’t come yet.  

Moving quickly, you pull off of him and lean forward to press a kiss to his open mouth. Yoongi draws a sharp breath in through his nose when you reach down and cup his length, fingers curling against the bottom edge of the condom. He draws back to meet your eyes.

“Is this OK?” you murmur, lips still close to his. “Want you in my mouth – “

Yoongi nods quickly, pulling you in again to kiss you roughly while his other hand tugs at the condom. As soon as it’s off his length springs free, nudging against your core and sending a shock coursing through your body.

Pushing back up to straddle him, you press your hips down so your folds are flush with his cock. Yoongi jerks under you and you share twin moans as you drag your wet heat up the length of him, grinding just enough to soak his bare skin where it rubs against you.

“F-fuck – Y/N,” he chokes, grabbing for your hips as his head presses back against the pillow. “Please – “

You stoke yourself along his cock again and relish in the broken sounds that spill from Yoongi’s lips while his fingers press deep enough to bruise your flesh. Chasing the feel of his hot skin, you rock forward and gasp when the head of his cock catches at your opening.

You freeze, breath trapped in your lungs while Yoongi shudders below you. He bucks his hips slightly – only enough to tease at your entrance and his mouth falls open when you dip lower to take an inch of him inside you.

“I – princess – “

Yoongi’s voice comes out strained, feverish and despite the way your body screams for you to sink down on to him, you pull back.

You move down the length of his body and take his cock into your mouth. Yoongi lets out a choked sound and you drink it in greedily; the weight of him on your tongue soothes the fire in your belly as you draw him in deep. You taste yourself on his skin and saliva pools at the back of your mouth. Want floods your veins but you only have time to work him in a few long strokes before his thighs tense and his cock throbs against your tongue.

Yoongi takes little gasping sips of breath while he comes, his hands fisted in the sheets as you dip your head to take in what he gives you. His cum washes hot against the back of your throat and you swallow it back easily. Your fingers press into his thighs as his heels struggle for purchase along the sheets, holding him steady enough to bring him down easy with slow, careful licks against the underside of his cock.

As soon as you take your mouth off of him, Yoongi reaches for you. His hands slip beneath your arms and he pulls you up over his body faster than you can catch your breath. He slots his mouth with yours and flips you over, rolling his weight to cage you beneath his arms. You can feel him begin to soften against the inside of your thigh but still he reaches a hand down to palm at your heat.

“Yoongs,” you pant, almost laughing. “Shit, that’s – ah – “

He draws back as you give a little sigh of surprise when his fingers find your clit. He slows his touch though his breath still comes quick, almost labored as he wets his lips with his tongue.

“Want to make you come again…”

Yoongi’s eyes are flat black, transfixed; they trail over your throat and breasts before he leans in hungrily. He buries his face in the crook of your jaw as his words spill out in a throaty rasp.

“Wanna watch you come – all night, if you’ll let me – “

Heat explodes across your skin, cutting through the initial surprise of his attention. You swallow hard as his tongue presses against your pulse point and you feel him drag his teeth over the skin there. Your mind races with all the ways Yoongi could make good on his request, if you let him…

The sun will be up soon, you think. Yoongi will have to leave shortly after that to get back to the dorm and you’ll be alone in your bed. You’re not sure what will happen after that.

You thread your fingers into his hair and let your legs fall further apart, muscles spent but heart quickening at the thought of losing yourself to him for a little longer. There’s time tomorrow for words, you figure.

***

Chapter Text

“I love this part – see??”

Hoseok leans back in his chair, knees bouncing excitedly as he swivels halfway around to look at you and Pdogg. A bass-laden beat thuds through the speakers in front of him and he turns up the volume as his eager grin widens.

“Perfect for the bridge, no?”

Pdogg chimes in above the track and says something encouraging to the rapper. Smoothing out the wrinkles in your skirt for the hundredth time this morning, you smile and nod in a vague, friendly way and Hoseok beams.

You’re feeling pleasantly subdued after a rushed but highly spirited round of fucking in Yoongi’s studio. He texted you as soon as he arrived at BigHit this morning and you’d met him as he stepped off the elevator to the production wing. Once inside Genius Lab, you’d dragged each other on to the couch so Yoongi could pull his jeans just low enough to free his cock before rutting into you with surprising urgency. You met him with equal need, wrapping your legs around his narrow hips to help him thrust at just the right angle at somewhat of a breakneck speed.

You didn’t actually come, you realize as you think back on it – but the overall release was still sweet. You were still louder than you should have been: half-moaning, half-laughing as Yoongi set his teeth against your shoulder and quickly reached a shaky, quiet finish.

A lazy smile crosses your face as you trail your fingertips over the bruise his mouth left, now hidden by the fabric of your blouse. Your eyes slide to the far side of the studio where Yoongi sits with one elbow propped on the edge of Hoseok’s desk while he doodles idly on a notepad. You marvel at his composure – no one would ever guess that he’d railed your brains out little more than an hour ago, before even having his morning coffee.

His face is calm, his appearance neat; his cheek is leaned against his palm and he rubs at his bottom lip with one finger in a contemplative way as he peers down at the paper. You think you didn’t have enough time to kiss him properly before you both had to straighten your clothes and head out to meet Hoseok.

Then again, it seems like nothing is enough lately when it comes to Yoongi.

Where he was careful, reserved in the past, now he’s spontaneous; you’re not sure what changed but it’s unlocked an equally reckless feeling in you. You find yourself craving him at particularly inconvenient times throughout the day – like in the middle of a Zoom meeting with songwriters from LA, or during late, restless hours of the night – and unlike before, Yoongi doesn’t seem keen on maintaining a slow-burn. He lets you take what you want when you need it and you’ve been more than happy to reciprocate.

Sometimes that reciprocation happens at his apartment – on a couple occasions it happened in a rarely-used conference room on the top floor of BigHit. You’re thinking about the next time you might reciprocate when Yoongi’s eyes flick up to meet yours, his gaze zeroing in on your face like he can hear your thoughts.

“Hyung? What do you think??”

You glance toward Hoseok again at the sound of his voice. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes linger on you for a second or two longer and a flush threatens to creep up from beneath the collar of your shirt.

“Hm?”

Yoongi makes a little questioning noise when he finally looks to Hoseok. The younger man blinks a couple times, his eyes flitting over to you for a moment before that heart-shaped grin explodes on his face.

“The bridge, hyung – you’ve heard the first and second verses, right? Do you think it fits in?”

Yoongi clears his throat. “Ah – sorry, Hob-ah. Let me hear it again.”

He stands and shuffles toward where Hoseok sits in front of his desk and you take the opportunity to check the time on your phone – almost noon. You reach for your bag.

“I have to head out,” you say quietly to Pdogg. “Thank you for asking me to sit in, PD-nim.”

The producer nods. “It was Hoseok-ssi’s request. Have you reviewed my notes for mastering the TXT tracks?”

“Yes. I’ll have them back to you by the end of the day, sir.”

You give him a quick bow and exit the room quietly – being careful to keep your eyes to yourself.

Once you’re under the bright lights of the production wing, your head starts to clear. There’s so much on your plate at the moment and you’re anxious to impress Pdogg. He’s given you a couple opportunities to shadow his mastering process and is letting you test your hand with two songs from TXT’s debut release. You’re hoping they’ll match with the quality and feel that he’s brought to the rest of the track list – you figure if you can gain his trust that way, he might give you more agency in future projects.

You’d like to devote your entire day to that task. Unfortunately, you’re still carrying your regular schedule providing support to the TXT members. As much as you adore them, you’re getting less and less out of observing and your to-do list for the production team at large is only growing longer. The fact that you haven’t spoken to Yeonjun in a few weeks doesn’t help the situation, either.

You take the stairs two at-a-time up to the fifth floor, hurrying as much as your heels will allow. You’re still not sure why you decided to dress formally when you woke up today but you haven’t stopped regretting it since.

By the time you locate the group in one of the practice-rooms, they’ve already finished up a morning’s worth of rehearsal and have moved on to monitoring with a choreographer and couple of their managers. There’s a television mounted on the far side of the room; the members are spread out on the floor watching playback of their latest live practice. You edge into the dim room, taking a quick headcount to make sure all five members are present before snagging a chair by the back wall.

Soobin and Beomgyu are closest to you, both sitting cross-legged with hunched shoulders as they peer up at the screen. Taehyun and Hueningkai are sat right up front and Yeonjun is on a bench in front of an old keyboard stashed against the wall. He spares you a lingering glance, his large eyes shining in the light of the television as he watches you draw a pen and notebook out from your bag.

“See here – you keep fiddling with your in-ear, Taehyun-ah.”

The choreographer points a remote control at the screen and pauses the playback, stepping forward to point to where Taehyun is in the dance formation.

“Do you see it?”

Taehyun nods, sitting up straighter as the older man addresses him.

“It keeps falling out,” he says quietly, curling his fingers around the edge of one of his ears. “It – it hurts if I have it in too long…”

The choreographer opens his mouth to speak but another voice cuts in first.

“You have to get used to that, Taehyun-ah – “

You glance toward the wall opposite the keyboard, where the managers sit. You recognize the one speaking: Heesoon, a thin, reedy-looking man who’s supposedly been with BigHit since the beginning.

“You’re going to be wearing these through much longer rehearsals and entire concerts – if you get to perform, that is,” he says sternly. “Do you want to perform?”

Taehyun nods quickly.

“Do you want to debut with the rest of your members?”

“Yes, manager-nim,” he singer pipes up anxiously. “I – “

“Then don’t complain. Listen to what your teacher has to say.”

Taehyun’s shoulders drop and he nods, turning back to the choreographer. You can see him twisting his long, delicate fingers together in his lap.

The playback continues and you try to settle in for the afternoon. As usual, the members seem exhausted but they do their best to be attentive throughout the long monitoring session. Hueningkai’s vocals receive a lot of attention – people always seem eager to comment on his age and the maturity of his voice. Yeonjun receives the most praise out of anyone for his dancing and you’re glad to see him look proud of himself; he meets your eye for a moment but quickly looks away before you can send him an encouraging smile. It's awkward but you try to shake it off and focus on making notes about the live performance of their debut tracks. 

Late into the afternoon your attention span starts to wane. You’re feeling restless and a bit irritable after a long lunch break – you somehow ended up with the job of picking up everyone’s food but didn’t have time to eat yourself. With your head leaned back against the wall, you rack your brain for a reason to excuse yourself early but nothing comes to mind.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a blue-ish glow lighting up Soobin’s face every few minutes or so. You crane your neck and realize he has his phone in between his legs; the screen brightness must be turned all the way down and he’s clearly trying to be sneaky but still you can tell he’s totally distracted.

You uncross your legs and start to stretch one foot toward him, hoping to give him a nudge before he gets in trouble.

“Soobin-ah.”

Heesoon’s voice cuts in again and you pull your foot back toward the legs of your chair. Too late.

Soobin’s phone drops from his hands and lands on the tile floor with a muffled clatter. He straightens up right away.

“Ah – yes??”

Heesoon is sitting with his arms crossed, face blank as he stares at Soobin. The choreographer pauses the video footage again and the other members turn to look between their leader and the senior manager.

“Are you paying attention, Soobin-ah?”

Soobin’s eyelids flutter and his mouth opens and closes. His hands slip in to the gap between his crossed legs.

“Y-yes, manager-nim. I – “

“Bring me your phone.”

There’s a long pause. You wait with the rest of the members and staff in the room, growing increasingly uncomfortable as you watch to see what happens. Soobin looks down at his hands, hesitating.

Heesoon gets up and his chair squeals against the tile.

“Heesoon-ssi – “

Ignoring the choreographer, he crosses the room to come to a halt in front of Soobin and holds out his hand. Slowly, Soobin lifts his phone and gives it to his manager.

Hueningkai casts you a nervous look as Heesoon starts to retreat to his chair, his thumb swiping over the phone’s screen as he appears to unlock it. You can’t think of why he’d know Soobin’s passcode – unless the members’ phones are being managed too. You glance at Yeonjun – he’s still sat on the keyboard bench, his jaw tight as he locks eyes with you briefly.

Heesoon pauses, looking down at the phone for a moment with his back turned to the room. He lets out a long huff of air.

“Were you texting, Soobin-ah?”

“J-just playing a game, sir.”

“Really?”

Soobin falls silent again. Heesoon turns to look at him.

“Then who is she?”

Heesoon flips the phone around so the screen is facing everyone in the room, showing a long thread of texts. The manager taps his thumb on the screen to enlarge a picture embedded in the chat – a picture of a pretty dark-haired girl. She’s smiling and holding up a finger-heart; from where you sit you can make out the dimples in her cheeks.

Soobin opens his mouth but no sound comes out. Heesoon shakes the phone in his hand.

“Hm?”

“I – sh-she’s a friend,” Soobin stutters. “Just – “

“A friend?” Heesoon presses.

“A trainee – she’s a trainee, t-too, manager-nim.”

Heesoon’s features settle into a disappointed look. He locks Soobin’s phone and stows it in the pocket of his trousers before taking his seat again. A nervous feeling stirs in your gut.

“A trainee,” Heesoon says quietly. He pauses for a moment, fixing Soobin with a pointed look. “You will delete her number when I return this phone to you at the end of the day. You are not to contact her again.”

Soobin drops his gaze down toward his knees. You fight the urge to reach for him.

“Soobin-ah – you understand you’re going to debut soon, correct?”

He nods.

“You need to take this seriously. All of you do,” Heesoon adds. He looks around at the other members. “This is not the time to be thinking about friends, or dates – even your families. You need to be thinking about preparing for your debut only.”

A few of the members nod. Soobin scratches at the back of his neck.

“But…manager-nim – “

At the sound of the younger man’s voice, Heesoon stands up out of his chair.

“Soobin-ah,” he barks. “If you’re going to be an idol, you need to start acting like one. Now. Part of being an idol means making sacrifice in your personal life – was this expectation not explained to you when you first became a trainee?”

“It was – “

“But you’re choosing to ignore it?”

The room goes painfully quiet. Soobin is still; the other members are looking straight ahead or at the floor. Heesoon huffs an agitated sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose for a minute or so, gathering his thoughts before speaking again.

“You have all been waiting for debut for some time now,” he begins. “You need to understand that if you debut, your lives will only get harder afterward. Your personal lives will get harder. Do you understand?”

The members nod and mumble their assent. Heesoon looks around the room at the five of them.

“Idols don’t date. Dating breeds scandal, and scandal breeds mistrust. BigHit selected you for a reason – you are expected to carry yourselves as trustworthy young men. Don’t you want your fans to trust you?”

You’ve heard the speech a hundred times before. You know the relationship between an idol group and their fans is the beating heart of the industry – and certainly what BigHit has staked their success on for so many years. Following in the footsteps of Bangtan and ARMY, TXT has impossibly big shoes to fill when it comes to this matter.

So it’s hard for anyone to argue with Heesoon, even as he scolds Soobin into silence. Your heart aches for the young trainee but you hold your tongue. Heesoon’s words sink deep into your gut, stirring something sour and uneasy there but you swallow it back.  

“Why don’t we wrap up for the day, Heesoon-ssi?”

The other manager pipes up and you can feel the tension in the room start to break. Soobin still looks miserable, but at least the attention will start to shift away from him.

Heesoon looks at his watch and nods. “Fine. They need to be down on the third floor in twenty minutes.”

At that, the members stir and start to get up from their seats. Soobin shuffles close to where you’re sat and kneels to collect his things from the floor. You twist in your seat and duck your head toward him.

“Hey,” you say softly. Out of Heesoon’s line of sight, you lay a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

He looks at your face briefly but doesn’t say anything. You give his shoulder a squeeze.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Soobinnie – “

“I wasn’t thinking,” he murmurs – so quiet you barely hear him. “Manager-nim was right to say those things.”

“You – wait, what?”

You’re not sure you heard Soobin correctly. He stuffs a water bottle and sweatshirt into his bag and moves to stand up; you follow, straightening up out of your chair. Soobin looks at you with his dark, solemn eyes.

“You’re lucky, noona,” he says after a few beats. “No one can keep you from the person you want, right?”

You blink, taken aback. Your lips part but no words come out. Soobin gazes steadily at you.

“Please, noona…don’t take that for granted.”

Soobin slips out into the hallway, heading off before any of the other members are ready and leaving you reeling where you stand.

He doesn’t know, you think – Soobin doesn’t know about you and Yoongi and if he did, he wouldn’t have said those words. He can’t know how you depend on stolen glances and late-night phone calls; he doesn’t understand that you can only have Yoongi as long as you can keep up a secret. Suddenly that secret seems thin, almost untenable.

A tight feeling clutches at your chest. On most days, you’d be overjoyed to be rid of the sneaking and pretending – but that same thought scares you now as you think about what you’d have to give up along with it. Your mind whirrs with a torrent of thoughts: flashes of moments you’ve shared privately with Yoongi; snatches of things you have yet to say with words. You press a hand to your belly where an ache is blooming and all you can focus on is how to make it go away.

Against all logic, you reach into your bag and pull out your phone. Your fingers feel jittery and clumsy as you tap your way into your latest text conversation with Yoongi.

Y/N [3:53]: where are you?

Yoongi starts typing only a few seconds later.

MYG [3:53]: hey

MYG [3:53]: genius lab

MYG [3:54]: was just gonna call and see if you already ate

Y/N [3:54]: not hungry. can i come by anyway?

Across the room, Yeonjun is carefully packing up his duffel bag. You catch him watching you out of the corner of his eye while you wait for Yoongi to respond.

MYG [3:56]: is everything ok?

“Y/N-ssi.”

You glance up at the sound of Heesoon’s voice. He’s looking down at a small notepad in his hand, brow furrowed as he scratches something out in pencil.

“The members need to move on with their schedule now. You can go.”

It takes all the strength you have not to flip him off. You press your lips together and nod before pulling your bag over your shoulder and making for the door. You swipe at the screen of your phone.

Y/N [3:57]: i’m fine

Y/N [3:57]: just want you

The hallway is clogged with staff when you step out of the practice-room. They must be prepping something for Bangtan, you think. You grip your phone tightly in your hand as you weave past the other BigHit employees and make your way to the stairs. The screen lights up as soon as you hit the landing.

MYG [3:59]: come here then

Keeping one hand on the railing, you take the stairs as hastily as you can to the floor below. The sound of your heels on each step rings through the stairwell until you swing open the door to the production wing. You’re grateful to find the hallway empty as you stride toward the door to Yoongi’s studio.

You punch in the code at the keypad and grab the handle as soon as you hear the lock click open. The door swings inward at your push and you find Yoongi already standing just inside the threshold, silhouetted by the glow of the dim lights at his desk.

“Hey,” he greets you quietly, smiling a bit as he opens the door wider. “That was fast.”

You reach for him right away. Slinging your bag onto the coffee table, you knot your hands in the fabric of his soft sweater and draw yourself close to him – close enough for your hips to bump against his. You reach behind you for the door and quickly push it shut.

“I was only upstairs,” you whisper. Your heels have you almost level with his face and you tug him even closer, tilting your head. “Kiss me – “

Yoongi takes your face in his hands, holding you still. His palms are warm against your cheeks; his thumbs brush over the soft skin at your temples as he searches your eyes.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asks, a shade of worry in his tone. “You look stressed.”

You force a smile and slide your hands up his chest to rest at the nape of his neck. “I’m fine – what makes you say that?”

“I dunno, just…you had this look when I opened the door - like you were nervous or something,” he mutters. His hands drop lower and he threads his fingers into the hair at the base of your skull. “Felt like I’d seen it before.”

“I’m fine,” you repeat. “Don’t worry about me, OK?”

“But I want to worry about – “

You lift up on your toes just enough to reach his mouth. Yoongi falls silent and lets you take what you need – always so giving as of late, he cradles your head carefully and moves his lips with yours. He lets you rake your nails lightly down his neck and chest; feeling impatient, you sink your teeth into the fullness of his bottom lip and tug at it gently.

You can feel Yoongi’s body loosen as he makes a quiet, hungry sound in his throat. Once you release his lip he ducks his head to kiss you fully, opening his mouth to you while he moves his hands down to squeeze at your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck and give a little yelp into his mouth when he grabs for the back of your thighs and lifts you suddenly up off of the ground.

You grip his waist with your legs while he carries you across the small room, a thrill rippling through your veins at the ease with which he holds you up. Yoongi makes for his desk and shoves at his keyboard to make space to set you down. Your skirt bunches at your hips as he rests you on the edge of the desk and licks greedily into your mouth. When you pull back for air a moment later, he starts to kiss his way along your jaw.

“Missed you,” he mutters by your ear, his breath making your scalp prickle.

You smile, breathing in his scent in deep pulls as you run your hands over his shoulders just to feel the solidness of him. 

“You just had me in here this morning…”

“Still – “

***

You set your teeth into your lower lip and bite off a quiet moan as Yoongi slips one hand up the inside of your thighs. You part your knees and he grazes his knuckles over your panties.

“Didn’t have time to make you come,” he whispers. He deftly pulls your panties to the side, holding them back with one finger while he dips two more into your folds. “Should’ve taken better care of you…”

The pads of his fingers slide over you, circling your entrance and you clutch at the sleeves of his sweater, holding his forehead to yours.

“Yoongi,” you whine softly, quickly losing control as your nerves spiral into sudden want. “Need you – “

Yoongi steps closer, using his hips to push your knees further apart as he brings them flush to the desk and plunges his fingers into your core. You gasp at the sudden stretch and your face burns at the way his hand seems to be soaked after just a couple slow thrusts inside of you. Yoongi makes a low, satisfied noise in his throat as you shiver, tucking his thumb against your clit.

“So wet already,” he breathes. “Always wet like this for me, hm?”

Your hips buck as his slick fingers move faster into you.

“Always,” you sigh, head threatening to loll backward as a hot coil tightens in your gut. “Yoongs – come on – “

You free one hand and bring it between you, fingers fumbling with the fly of his jeans. Yoongi swallows and licks his lips before answering

“I don’t have another condom…”

You can hear the question in his voice – or maybe you’re imagining it, hearing only what you want to hear as you think back to the last time you had him in your bed. You’d brought each other right to the edge of possibility, toying with the idea of removing that last layer of separation between your bodies – but you’d backed off. It was the right choice in the moment – the only choice, without having talked it out in any way – but you’ve felt the tension of it simmering between you ever since.

You trail your fingers up to his hip, gently rubbing your thumb over the soft skin beneath the hem of his sweater as you draw your knees further apart for him.

“I’m safe,” you say softly and tilt your head to catch his eye. His gaze makes you melt further. “Wanna feel you…d’you want that?”

Yoongi releases a shuddering breath – suddenly, like he’d been holding it in – before he leans down to slot his mouth with yours. You meet him with equal hunger until he pulls back just a few moments later.

“So much,” he pants, punctuating his answer with another brief, rough kiss. “Want that too, princess – just…not here, yeah?”

You open your mouth to respond but the air leaves your lungs when Yoongi finds the aching, sensitive spot inside your heat and presses the pads of his fingers up against it. He nuzzles into your neck.

“Need to take my time if I’m gonna have you like that,” he murmurs against your skin. “Right now – wan’ you on my fingers right now – “

Your back arches, bringing your chest forward towards Yoongi’s as he nudges his thumb tighter to your clit and moves his fingers in beckoning waves.

“ – Can you come like this, sweetness?”

The whimper that leaves your lips is answer enough and Yoongi starts to pump into you again, moving faster than before. You grip the back of his neck with one hand, your knees lifting up slightly as your core tightens quickly.

“Yoon – “

You only manage to get out one syllable of his name before you lose your breath again. It comes out like a hiccup and Yoongi hums velvety praise in your ear as you tremble; you grab for his forearm as he drives his digits deeper –

***

The soft click of the door opening reaches your ears then.

“Yah! Hyung – “

It’s Namjoon’s voice you hear first. Your eyes snap to the source of the sound just as his face appears in the gap between the door and its frame as he pushes it inward.

His eyes find yours, then the back of Yoongi’s head before they sweep lower to take in the two of you tangled on the desk. You tug frantically at the hair at Yoongi’s nape and he quickly lifts his head to look around.

“Shit – “

There are a few hushed curses and a flurry of movement.

Yoongi pulls his hand from you faster than you can fully register, stepping back slightly so you can draw your legs together while he angles his body to shield you from Namjoon. His fingers are sticky where he grips your thigh with one hand.

Namjoon stutters and stops in his tracks, one hand still on the doorknob – until something seems to crash into him from behind. The door swings wide as Jungkook appears, playfully shoving the older member further into the studio.

You stomach drops suddenly like you’re going to be sick.

“Is he even here? Rapmon-hyung, I thought you said – “

Jungkook’s grin starts to fade when he spots you and Yoongi. His eyes land where Yoongi’s hands scrabble against yours as he hurriedly tries to help you tug your skirt back down.

“…Noona?”

You quickly slide off the desk, ducking your head behind Yoongi’s shoulder while he turns to face his members. The burn in your cheeks is fierce enough to hurt.

“Namjoon-ah,” Yoongi says, his voice surprisingly firm. “The door – “

“Was unlocked,” Namjoon finishes quickly. “It – it was unlocked – “

He drags a hand back and forth across his hair, his wide brown eyes darting around the room – looking anywhere but directly at you and Yoongi. Jungkook is still stood in the doorway, his arms limp at his sides as he stares between his two senior members.

Yoongi takes a step forward.

“Jungkook-ah – “

“What’s going on?”

Jungkook’s voice is soft, slightly worried. Namjoon turns and tries to push him back into the hall.

“Kook – “

“Don’t, Joon-ah,” Yoongi scolds. “Just – wait – “

“Go, Kook – “

Your throat tightens as the maknae meets your eye again just before Namjoon forces him out of view. Yoongi turns suddenly, his face flushed as he reaches for your hand.

“Princess,” he says shakily. “Are you – “

For the first time ever, you wish he wouldn’t call you by your nickname.

You push off from the desk and step out of his reach. Yoongi stumbles back on his heels a bit as you lurch to take up your bag from the low table.

“Hey – “

You ignore his voice – which is barely audible above the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. Yoongi moves to grab for your arm.

“Y/N-ah – fuck – Y/N-ah, wait!!”

You yank yourself free before he can get a grip and push your way past Namjoon, who says nothing but stares as you go by. You avoid Jungkook’s round eyes as you make it into the hallway and turn sharply to head for the elevators. You can feel their eyes on your back but you keep moving, the sound of your quick footfalls on the carpet matching the frantic thud of your heart. 

Chapter Text

The quiet is the worst part.

Even Hoseok is silent. Sat next to Jin on the far side of the dorm’s living room, the dancer has his arms crossed over his chest and his brows are drawn into a strange, hard line. Yoongi’s seen him upset enough to know that Hoseok’s not angry – he looks anxious.

Jin’s expression is relaxed as usual but Namjoon – sitting closest to Yoongi, only feet away on the couch – is frowning in that way where his jaw tightens and his cheeks hollow out. Yoongi has never been totally confident in interpreting this particular expression – Namjoon’s face can say so much in one glance but Yoongi knows there’s always more roiling under the surface.

Seeing his members like this is the worst part – worse even than actually having to recount what happened in his studio earlier today. Possibly worse than where this conversation may go next.

Namjoon is leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He shifts in his seat and rubs at his knuckles as the quiet stretches on.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi says. For the fifth time.

No one says anything right away. Jin folds one leg over the other, scratching at a spot on his jeans.

“Do we need to be here for this?” he asks, looking to Namjoon.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Hoseok asks, his voice tight. Yoongi was right – he’s nervous.

Namjoon breathes deeply through his nose, his features smoothing out into something closer to his typically placid appearance. Yoongi can practically see him slipping into his leader persona.

“We’re just having a conversation,” Namjoon says calmly. “But I would like us – all of us – to decide what happens next.”

Yoongi’s hand twitches where it rests on his thigh. His nails are already ragged from biting them all evening so he curls his fingers into loose fists.

“How is she doing?”

Yoongi looks up when Hoseok speaks again and sees the dancer looking back at him.

“Y/N-ah…is she alright?” he asks again.

A wave of affection for the younger member washes through Yoongi’s body. He lifts a shoulder.

“Yeah, Hob-ah. I’m sure she’s OK.”

Yoongi hasn’t actually spoken to you – he knows you well enough to predict that you’ll need plenty of space after something like this – but the answer seems to calm Hoseok. He nods once and his posture relaxes a bit; beside him, Jin settles further back into the couch – almost slumping. Yoongi catches sight of the older man’s eyebrow quirking up – briefly, only for a split second but it definitely happened.

Yoongi forces himself to look back at Namjoon.

“You think we should tell BigHit about this.”

He doesn’t pose it as a question. The other members look to Namjoon now.

“Maybe,” the leader says softly. “Maybe not.”

Yoongi blinks. “Well…if not that, what do you think we should do?”

Namjoon shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know…I think we should consider all possibilities.”

“Do you want us to vote?” Jin asks.

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t think we should vote,” Hoseok says quickly.

“I didn’t say that we should,” Namjoon replies.

Jin sighs and fluffs his hair.

“I can’t vote,” Hoseok clarifies, shaking his head back and forth. “Not on something like this.”

Yoongi’s discomfort is quickly giving way to frustration as the conversation ping-pongs back and forth.

“Namjoon-ah,” he interjects. “If you want to tell Sihyuk-ssi, then just – “

“This isn’t just about telling.”

Namjoon’s voice comes out hard, sharp – as close to snapping as Yoongi has ever heard him get. The stormy look is back on his face.

“If it were that simple, we wouldn’t be sitting here,” he continues. “This is also about Bangtan.”

“How so?”

Yoongi regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth and Namjoon’s eyes flick to meet his. There’s a deadly pause, and he cocks his head before speaking.

“We have a member who chose to be less than forthcoming about a situation that could impact multiple people in this company,” he says evenly. “People could lose their jobs. Projects could be set back. Scandal could get out…and yet this member stayed quiet.”

Yoongi feels his eyes burning but he keeps his eyes locked on Namjoon’s, pressing his short fingernails into his palms. He sees the younger man’s face soften slightly.

“Hyung…”

Yoongi thinks he’s going to throw up. He looks away.

“…you could have said something.”

He swallows hard, but the knot in his throat won’t go down.

“But now we’re here. It shouldn’t have to be like this,” Namjoon says, a tinge of bitterness in his voice. “And Jungkook-ah – “

The leader cuts himself off and Yoongi’s stomach twists painfully. He squeezes his fists tighter.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is quiet in the large living room – so quiet he’s not even sure Hoseok or Jin can hear. He clears his throat and stares at a spot just over Namjoon’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I – I wasn’t thinking. I know I should have said something but I wanted…I wanted to protect her, and – “

“Things could be worse for her now,” Namjoon says, and Yoongi can tell he’s worried for you.

“Please, just listen – “

“You broke our trust,” he continues solemnly. “And Y/N-ah did, too.”

Yoongi shakes his head as anxiety cuts through the guilt in his belly. “She didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault, she – “

“She lied to me, hyung.”

Yoongi’s mouth goes dry. Namjoon looks back at him steadily but there’s hurt in his eyes.

“I asked her outright if there was something going on between the two of you, and she said no.”

The room is silent but suddenly there’s a ringing in Yoongi’s ears. He thinks he must have misheard Namjoon – hopes he did – but then his chest starts to ache in a weird way that reminds him of dread. He pauses, blinking back at the group’s leader for a beat before he opens his mouth to speak – but Jin cuts him off.

“Look – let’s all take this down a notch, OK?”

The eldest member is still slouched back into the couch. He holds his hands out to them, palms facing the floor in a calming gesture as he looks around the room.

“This doesn’t need to be a big deal,” Jin says easily. “Yoongi-yah should have been honest, but we don’t need to blow this out of proportion.”

Everyone’s looking at Jin when he refolds his arms and shrugs his shoulders. He looks over at Namjoon.

“It’s not like he’s the first member to fool around with staff, Namjoon-ah,” he continues. “We’ve always let it blow over in the past. I don’t see how this is different.”

“We’re not  – “

Yoongi stops himself mid-sentence and notices the way his heart feels like it’s pounding in his throat. The members turn their eyes to him again and a few seconds pass before he can speak again.

“We’re not…fooling around,” he says slowly. “It’s not like that.”

“What is it like?” Namjoon asks quietly.

“Sure it is,” Jin cuts in again, his tone almost flippant. “I get it – and I don’t see how this is a surprise to anyone. Y/N-ssi’s a producer, she’s hot – and we knew she already risked her job once to hook up with an idol – “

Heat rushes to Yoongi’s face and he’s quick to interject. “Stop – th-that isn’t fair.”

Hoseok stirs nervously in his seat. “Jin – “

“What?” Jin asks, spreading his arms wide. “You know I’m right. I warned you all about what happened with her at Starship.”

“I said stop – “

“I’m trying to protect you, Yoongi-yah,” the older man says loudly, his tone starting to harden. “You made a mistake, but you’re not stupid. You know there are people in this industry willing to do anything to get close to idols. I thought the fact that she fucked Lee Jooheon would have been enough for you to – “

“Shut up.”

Yoongi’s voice rips from his chest, silencing the rest of the room. Blood rushes in his ears and he realizes he got to his feet at some point.

“I don’t care if you’re my hyung – you don’t get to talk about her like that.”

“Yoongi – “

Namjoon’s standing now, holding out his hands to Yoongi but he pulls away.

“When did you get like this, Yoongi?” Jin asks bitterly, his brows pulled together. His ears are red. “You have no right to be angry with me. You’re the one fooling yourself here. She’s just a – “

“Don’t,” he snarls, his voice hoarse, taking a step forward and jabbing a finger in Jin’s direction. “If you say one more – “

“ENOUGH.”

Namjoon’s bellow fills the room. He grabs Yoongi’s shoulder and pushes him back half a step – enough to shake him out of his train of thought. Namjoon’s taller and Yoongi can barely see Jin and Hoseok when he steps in front of him.

“This is not how we talk to each other,” the leader barks. “This is what happens when we don’t communicate. Enough, Yoongi-yah.”

Yoongi stands, dazed, and watches as Namjoon steps back. His heart is pounding so fast he can barely make out the individual beats as they thrum loud in his ears.

Hoseok is folded over on the couch, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Yoongi can’t see his face.

Jin, on the other hand, is still staring pointedly at Yoongi. The older man clenches his jaw for a moment, his beautiful face darkened by the irate look in his eye.

“You should know I walked in on Y/N-ssi fighting with one of the hoobaes,” he says flatly. “Yeonjun-ah. I missed most of it, but there was talk about feelings.”

Yoongi’s stomach sinks nastily. He doesn’t want to hear more, but he can’t look away.

“His feelings. For her. Something about her leading him on, from what I could tell,” Jin adds. He regards Yoongi quietly for a long moment, and then looks to their leader. “You should be the one to decide what comes next, Namjoon-ah. Not any of us.”

Jin gets up from the couch slowly and stalks off down the hall toward the bedrooms. His departure is followed by another horribly long silence – punctuated only by a faint sniffle from Hoseok, who still hasn’t looked up. Namjoon stands quietly through it all, watching Yoongi.

Yoongi can’t stay here tonight. Can’t share a room with Jin. He doesn’t want to be alone at his apartment, either. He doesn’t want to be anywhere.

“Hyung…“

Namjoon’s voice comes out softly –  but Yoongi’s already walking away, tugging his beanie down over his ears as he heads for the front door.

You tried going home.

Really, you did – after the disaster in Yoongi’s studio, you walked around BigHit until you found a quiet conference room to duck into for a few minutes. Once your heart started to slow you remembered the work you’d promised Pdogg. You were exhausted and ashamed and all you wanted to do was lick your wounds – but you still had two whole tracks to master before the end of the night.

You took the metro home and showered, hoping to wash off some of the residual shock that had you crawling in your skin long after leaving Genius Lab. You tried to eat something but had no appetite; when you sat down in front of your laptop, your mind went completely blank.

So you got back on the metro. You sat at the back of a car and hid behind your facemask, keeping your eyes low as if any stranger could spot you and know what was on your mind. You avoided any staff still lingering in the BigHit building when you reached it sometime after eight o’clock and it took all the courage you had to ride the elevator up to the production wing. You were relieved to find the hall deserted but still you struggled to relax even in the dim, cloistered quiet of one of the studios.

You were still on edge but you managed to get to work, at least. It felt good to boil your world back down to things that made sense: equalization, compression, balance. You picked out sounds you’d first recorded as mono signals and listened for the way they married with other elements; you pruned and polished each mix until both tracks could stand on their own within the mini album – perfectly rounded in full stereo, each one part and whole in itself.

It felt good to send them off to Pdogg – so good that it almost hurt to shut down the monitor for the night and turn your thoughts back to the events from earlier in the day.

You still haven’t heard from Yoongi. This is probably a good thing, you think as you glance at the clock near the door – it’s nearly eleven and you’re just now feeling grounded enough to try and reflect on the situation. You think if Yoongi had called you wouldn’t have been able to respond rationally.

Then again, the issues at hand don’t have much to do with rationality. You lean back in your chair, pushing your fingers into your hair to rub at your scalp as you think back on Soobin’s request in the practice-room – and further, to the last time Songhee warned you about leaving communication on the backburner. You wish she were here now to tell you what to do – even though you’re fairly certain of what needs to happen next.

In the silence of the studio, Namjoon and Jungkook’s faces pop easily into your mind’s eye and threaten to send you spiraling again – but when you push them away, all that’s left is Yoongi. You think about his eyes, so full of concern for you even when he had his own personal fiasco unfolding before him in the studio that afternoon; you think of the panicked way he reached for you and what might have happened if you hadn’t fled from the room.

You have to talk to him.

You pick your phone up from the desk and unlock your screen.

Y/N [10:40]: hey…can i call you? today was awful and i

You don’t get to finish typing out your thought – there’s a mechanical noise from behind you and fluorescent light fills the room suddenly as the studio door hinges open. You look over your shoulder just in time to see Yoongi stepping into the room and your heart leaps.

He closes the door behind him as you swing your legs around to sit facing in his direction.

“Hey,” you start. “I was just  – “

“What is this to you?”

You pause, thrown by the volume and flatness of Yoongi’s voice. Your mouth hangs slightly open as your brain scrambles to field the unexpected question.

“What – what do you – “

“This. Whatever we’re doing,” he clarifies, gesturing between the two of you. He pauses. “Because I really can’t figure it out.”

You stare back at Yoongi. There’s a wary look in his eye and his jaw is a little tighter than usual – but beyond that, his face is unreadable. Guarded. Your confusion turns to something foreboding and sour.

You haven’t seen this look on Yoongi’s face in a long time – not since you were much newer to the company and he was still a stranger. Suddenly cold, you cross your arms over your stomach and swallow hard; your mind races for a response but your tongue feels heavy in your mouth.

“I kept this – us – a secret from the members, thinking I had something to protect,” he says slowly. “But now I’m not so sure.”

Yoongi pauses to swallow and press his tongue against the inside of his cheek. He looks down toward his feet.

“How can I protect someone who isn’t even honest with me?”

You clear your throat. “I – “

“Actually – let me ask you a different question,” Yoongi cuts you off. He glances up again and watches you with sharp eyes, weighing his words before continuing.

“What happened at Starship – with Jooheon-ssi?”

Heat flares in your cheeks – sudden and hot enough to sting. Yoongi nods slightly, as if the color on your face confirms whatever he was thinking.

“I’ve heard the rumors. I never really thought to ask about them, but…now I have to wonder if I’m any different than he is – if maybe I’m just a different idol, at a different company.”

“Y-Yoongi,” you choke out, your voice higher than usual. “What – “

“Or what about Yeonjun-ah?” he asks, louder than before. His lip curls slightly. “He’s just a trainee right now – but not for long, hm? Maybe he's like some kind of investment to you?"

You look away, tears burning at the back of your eyes as you stare down at your hands. You can feel Yoongi’s gaze on you.

“Right from the start I knew there were things you weren’t ready to tell me,” Yoongi says flatly. “But I thought if I gave you time…”

He trails off. Your heart feels like it’s crept into your throat; your stomach churns nastily.

“…Now I think you never planned on telling me the truth,” he mutters.

The truth.

So many people have asked you for the truth over the last several weeks – as if your heart and your personal life were on trial. The questions varied but they all grated on your nerves just the same: how do you feel? what are you going to do? when are you going to do it?  You didn't feel ready to answer any of them - but that didn't seem to matter much. You’ve spent so much energy compartmentalizing and making excuses and reasoning with people – anything to lessen the pressure and preserve the delicate little world you’d wrapped yourself in with Yoongi.

Now you’re not sure what all that effort was for. Avoiding the truth hasn’t gotten you anywhere, you think.

You look up at Yoongi.

“The truth.”

He gazes back at you – eyes cold, waiting. You draw in a deep breath through your nose to steel yourself.

“The truth is that Jooheon was my friend,” you say carefully, enunciating every word. “He was my friend long before we started having sex – which, I assume, is what you really want to know about?”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but you see his hand fidget in his pocket. You lift your chin.

“We hooked up for a few months and we were really close. I cared about him – a lot – but we stopped talking because he developed feelings that I didn’t share.”

You pause to swallow back a wave of emotion that threatens to derail your train of thought.

“As for Yeonjun – he has a crush on me. He’s very young and I obviously don’t return it. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to embarrass him…and because it wasn’t any of your business.”

For a fleeting moment, you think Yoongi’s going to speak. His lips part slightly and you see him take a breath – but then he sets his jaw again, eyes hardening as you continue to stare him down.

“Those are both painful situations that I’m still trying to figure out,” you say evenly. “…But this?”

You gesture between your body and his – at the space separating you. It’s no more than eight feet but it feels like a chasm.

“I’m starting to think this was a mistake.”

There’s a horrible beat of silence.

Yoongi stands perfectly still, his gaze black and impenetrable and a part of you prays for him to get angry – to yell at you; to argue or come back with something biting.

But he doesn’t.

The apple of Yoongi’s throat bobs as he swallows and looks away from you. His eyes cast off to the side, leveled somewhere just beyond the monitor behind you.

He nods once.

You stand and grab your bag then, gathering your phone and keys from the desk to shove them deep inside before throwing it over your shoulder.

You can’t look at Yoongi. You’re almost grateful when he doesn’t speak – doesn’t say anything as you make for the hall. He’s still stood near the doorway and your arm brushes his as you go.

He doesn’t make a move to try and stop you, and it’s a good thing. You tell yourself this as you wrench open the door; you repeat it in your head as the soles of your sneakers pound across the dark carpet, carrying you swiftly down the long hallway. You grit your teeth and focus on the thought as you wait for an elevator: it’s good he’s letting you go.

Yoongi’s still in the studio when you step on to the lift. You refuse to let your face crumble until the doors slide shut.

Chapter Text

Standing in your entrance way, you rub your thumb along the lip of the smooth ceramic pot in your hands. The tiny leaves of the bonsai tree nestled within it are crowded with multiple bursts of pink blooms. You stare at the star-shaped flowers and try to remember the last time you watered the tree.

It's Thursday morning and you should be on the metro by now. You know you’re running behind schedule but still your feet won’t seem to budge past the edge of the coarse mat just inside your front door. You feel the heft of the potted tree in your palms and wonder if it would smash if you dropped it from this high up.

This morning – like every morning for the last week or so – you woke up a few minutes before your alarm, eyes heavy and mouth dry. You’ve been running your humidifier every night but still your lips feel cracked when you wake and your jaw aches in a way that radiates up past your temples and into your scalp. You’ve woken up each morning with a strange feeling already in your chest: something tight and crowded, a mixture of dread and shame that bleeds into your thoughts before you can even figure out what day it is.

The only thing that’s gotten you out of bed recently is the shower. You’ve spent longer and longer stretches of time in the bathroom, turning your face into the harsh spray until the burbling rush of hot water drowns everything else out. You’re sure it’s horrible for your skin but you can’t seem to care.

Workdays have gone by at a glacial pace. You’ve already racked up as many hours working from home as you can and rarely leave the studio when you’re at BigHit. The hallways there feel strange now, like you’re trespassing on some unfamiliar territory any time you step out for any reason. The worst part of the day, however, is when you get home.

The silence that meets you each time you open your front door is stunning. Work is miserable but at least there you can distract yourself with different tasks – as soon as you’re home, the pressure to structure your evening crushes in on you. Drinking makes you feel too much; the urge to sleep is profound but pointless: once you get in bed, it’s only a matter of time until the quiet sets in and you’re prey to a barrage of loud, endlessly intrusive thoughts.

You’ve tried hard not to think of Yoongi. So much of your energy lately has gone into avoiding anything related to him. Even tangential things feel like a threat – like the bonsai, or the candle Jungkook gave you on your birthday. You couldn’t bring yourself to throw them out, though; you shoved the candle deep in a drawer and decided to bring the bonsai to the office so it can’t haunt your apartment any longer.

Today is Thursday, and just like yesterday you’re torn between hiding at home and hiding at work. You clutch the bonsai tree in your hands and stare at the white paint on your door while warring impulses fill your brain like static.

Deep in the pocket of your coat, your phone rings. You snap out of your trance temporarily and tuck the bonsai pot into the crook of your elbow so you can answer

“Hello?”

“Hey!!”

Songhee’s voice is loud on the other end. So loud you can’t tell if she’s happy, or relieved, or annoyed to hear you pick up. You clear your throat.

“Hey…”

“Where the fuck have you been??”

You pin your phone between your ear and shoulder and reach for the doorknob. You really do have to get going.

“Nowhere. Just working.”

“You haven’t answered any of my texts,” Songhee presses. Definitely annoyed, you think. “Did you even read them?”

“Um…yeah, some of them,” you answer vaguely. “Sorry, I’m so bad at texting back – ”

“No you’re not,” she says quickly. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing – I’m on my way to work right now.”

“No – I mean what’s up with you?” she asks again. There’s a pause. “…Is everything OK?”

You watch your sneakers as you make your way toward the elevators at the end of your hall. Your headache throbs.

“Yeah,” you say – trying to infuse your voice with as much lightness as possible. “I’m good, Songhee – just tired. Tired and busy.”

“…How’s PD-nim?”

Your throat tightens and your footsteps slow. You swallow.

“Ah…”

You reach for words but they all seem to shrivel up on your tongue. You press your thumb over the button to call the lift, punching it rapidly while your brain whirrs.

“…Y/N?” Songhee nudges, her voice firm but tempered with concern. “Are you – “

“I can’t talk about it right now,” you say quickly, stepping on to the empty elevator as soon as the doors open. “I’m around a bunch of people, so…”

There’s a short silence again. You hold the bonsai tight to your chest and wait for lift to begin its descent. You can hear the sound of traffic on the other end of the phone and figure Songhee has you on speaker in her car.

“Alright,” she says finally. “Well…look, I called because I miss you – do you wanna get dinner this weekend? Maybe come to my place for takeaway and beers?”

You count out a few beats as they pass, thinking. Your heart aches at the thought of seeing your friend but you know she’ll corner you with questions you really don’t want to answer.

“Sure,” you answer as brightly as possible. “That sounds good to me.”

It sounds horrible to you. You figure you’ll cancel last minute and put off hanging out with Songhee until you feel a little more grounded.

“Perfect – I’ll call you Saturday?”

“Yeah, yeah – Saturday.”

“Alright,” Songhee says. “I’ll talk to you then, but…call me, if – you know…you need to, for any reason. OK?”

“Sure. Bye, Songhee.”

You hang up as you step out into the lobby of your apartment building and silence your phone before stashing it back in your coat.

It’s grey and chilly out today. Your commute to BigHit is dull but chaotic at the same time – all the storefronts look the same, the faces around you just blurs as you slog through the crowds of people hustling in and out of the metro station.

You stare around at the tiled walls of the platform as you wait for your train. You take a seat on one of the metal benches set back from the tracks and glance up at the massive advertisement plastered to the wall just above your head.

You find yourself staring into Jimin’s eyes. Confused, you scoot your butt off the bench far enough so you can twist around and get a better look.

The wall is covered with a colorful spread of Bangtan, each of them wearing sweaters and perfect smiles and holding up some kind of coffee drink. Your eyes flit across their faces as you automatically do a headcount – but you stop before you can tally them up to seven.

Your stomach drops uncomfortably, twisting like it’s being sucked down a drain. Yoongi’s image looks back at you from a few feet away. He’s dressed in a bright blue sweater and his teeth look impossibly white as he smiles, his hand frozen mid-wave where his slim body pokes out between Jin and Jungkook. His likeness is familiar enough to set all your nerve endings alight in an instant – but there’s something strange and plastic about his face. His hair is blonde, almost silver and you assume the picture was taken around the time you came to BigHit. It’s the first time you’ve seen Yoongi in almost two weeks and yet it feels like looking at a total stranger.

You stand up and move to the edge of the platform, using one hand to tug the hood of your coat up over your head. The world is a bit easier when all you can do is look straight forward, you’ve found.

It’s a little before ten o’clock when the barista in the café on the bottom floor of BigHit hands you your iced double latte. You thank her and head for the small stand beside the counter to snap a lid onto your open cup. You poke a straw into the drink and take a long draw before turning to find your way to the exit.

The cafe is packed with employees like you who didn’t have time to get coffee before work – or people who are already on their second and third doses of caffeine. You shift your body sideways to pass by a cluster of men who flood the entrance and your hip bumps up against a table.

“Sorry!”

You blurt the apology immediately as the customer seated there reaches to steady his tumbler of iced coffee. Grabbing the edge of the table in reflex, you turn your head to address them directly.

“Oh – sh-shit, PD-nim – ah – “

You tug down your mask and Bang Sihyuk’s mouth twitches in a tiny smile as he recognizes your face. The café lights glint off the lenses of his glasses as he tilts his head.

“Y/N-ssi – in a rush?”

You shake your head. “No, sir – I’m sorry, I was just trying to get out the door and – “

“It’s no problem,” he says tranquilly. “Have a seat – if you have a minute for me?”

He leans back from the table a bit and gestures to the empty chair across from him. You hesitate for a moment before setting your own cup down on the table and sliding into the seat. Sihyuk pushes a small white plate of macarons toward you.

“Have you tried these?” he asks. “They’re very good – especially the matcha flavored ones…”

You stuff your facemask into the pocket of your coat. “Oh – um, no I haven’t. Thank you, PD-nim, but – “

“They also have excellent cream-ppang, if you’d prefer – “

He twists around in his seat, craning his head to look toward the pastry case by the counter again. You quickly reach for a pale green macaron.

“These are wonderful, actually,” you say, giving him a gracious bob of your head. “Thank you, sir.”

Under Sihyuk’s careful gaze you take a tiny bite of the cookie. The grassy, slightly sweet flavor blooms on your tongue and you force a small smile while he reaches for his coffee.

“I’m glad to run into you,” the producer says after a long sip. “I haven’t seen much of you lately and I’m curious to hear how you’re doing.”

You swallow the morsel of macaron. “…Me? How I’m doing?”

He nods. Your mind races, anxiety immediately lacing through your thoughts.

“Um…did I do something wrong, PD-nim?”

“No,” Sihyuk says immediately. You calm somewhat. “I’ve heard only positive things from the production team. I haven’t had a chance to hear about your work directly from you.”

You brush a crumb from the corner of your mouth, thinking. There’s a part of your brain that’s screaming for you to brush off the question – to make an excuse and get out of the situation as fast as possible. But something about Sihyuk’s gaze holds you in place and another part of you is suddenly itching to open up.

You can’t tell him about half of the things that have been taking up space in your mind. But you have to give him something – and you want to give him something real.

You carefully balance the rest of your macaron on the lid of your coffee.

“Well…I feel relieved now that production for the mini-album has wrapped,” you begin. You wrap your arms across your stomach. “I’m grateful for the opportunities I’ve had here, as always. There are some things, though…some things that feel especially challenging.”

Sihyuk nods slowly but says nothing. You take a deep breath.

“Like the songwriting, for instance…I’m still not sure why I was placed in that workgroup and I don’t feel like I’ve progressed. Sometimes the pressure of that project alone is…intense.”

It feels good to be honest. You’ve been drowning in the writers’ circle for the past few weeks – putting off tasks and letting emails pile up in your inbox. Now that you’re not speaking with Namjoon, you feel adrift and awkward being involved at all.

You can’t even begin to tell Sihyuk about Namjoon. You don’t want him to know how much you’re struggling – not really – but if you could just get some kind of break…

“I wonder if…if you’d consider letting me step back from working with the writers. I think the team would be fine without me, and I could help the company more by putting my existing skillset to use. I don’t want to weigh the project down any longer.”

Bang Sihyuk looks back at you from behind his thin-framed glasses while he takes in your little speech. He reaches for a pastel pink macaron and eats it – slowly, in two even bites – as you wait for him to respond. You shift in your seat. Sihyuk brushes his fingers together to rid them of crumbs and takes another careful sip of his coffee before speaking.

“Y/N-ssi…I hope you know that I see you as a significant investment.”

You nod, unsure of how to take his comment.

“I hired you based on your reputation at Starship – which was glowing, despite your lack of history in this specific industry,” he explains. “I also brought you to BigHit because I heard how you worked every corner of the underground scene and captured the ears of label executives within just a year or two.”

Warmth stirs in your palms and you wipe your hands against the fabric of your jeans, trying not to show your surprise. You didn’t think Sihyuk or BigHit had any idea about how you’d spent your first years in Seoul. The producer pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“We like hungry people here,” he says. “Bangtan has gotten to where they are because of their talent and their connection as a group – but also because of how far they were willing to go to prove themselves. Over the years I’ve tried to maintain a production team that mirrors their work ethic and willingness to try new things.”

You stare back into his eyes, suddenly feeling worried as he leans forward a bit in his chair. Sihyuk lays his palms flat on the table.

“I invested in you because I think you can continue that legacy. I’d like to help you develop further – as a producer, certainly…but I’d also like to see what happens if you lean into areas where you are less comfortable with growth.”

Condensation drips down the side of your coffee cup, pooling slightly on the tabletop. You sit perfectly still in your chair.

“I need to know if that kind of trajectory doesn’t fit with what you want,” Sihyuk finishes.

Your mouth goes dry, all your other anxieties evaporating as his words register. You sit up and brush your hair back from your face as your stomach fills with sudden dread.

“N-no,” you say quickly. You shake your head. “No, Sihyuk-ssi – PD-nim, sir…I want to learn. I want to learn at BigHit. Please – “

He holds up a hand at the somewhat frantic tone of your voice, an amused smile tugging at his mouth. You take a deep breath.

“I want to be an investment that pays out generously,” you continue carefully. “I want to be someone who grows, no matter what.”

Sihyuk’s smile broadens slightly. “I’m glad to hear it. I was worried that maybe you’d lost sight of the big picture here.”

You nod. He has no idea how true that statement is, you think.

Sihyuk adjust his glasses slightly and threads his fingers together in front of his stomach.

“I can see that you’re stressed,” he begins, taking on a sage tone. “Take the songwriting in smaller chunks, if it helps. I’m sure the team will understand as long as you communicate.”

Taking his signal to wrap up your conversation, you grab your coffee and rise from your seat. Sihyuk ducks his head as you bend at the waist to give him a bow. He nudges the plate of macarons toward you.

“And take two of these for later…you have to make sure you’re eating well, especially if times are tough.”

joon [8:13]: are you around?

Your hands don’t move from the keyboard when your phone first lights up. You glance down at your screen, a curl of panic flickering in your gut when you see Namjoon’s name and his short message.

It’s getting late into the evening and at this point, you’re looking for excuses to stay in the studio – excuses to stay busy. It’s hard being at the office but nothing puts a pit in your stomach like the thought of your apartment and the strange, grey gloom that tends to creep in whenever you’re there for too long. For the past couple days you’ve tried to restrict your time at home to just sleeping and showering – any longer and you start to get uneasy, listless.

After taking Sihyuk’s advice you tried working on translating a few lines of lyrics from one of the songwriters in LA, hoping to produce something in Korean that still captures the rhyme and the message of the original verse she sent over – but it’s slow going. It feels impossible to get inspired and everything you come up with seems flat and awkward. You chew at your lip and stare back at the blinking cursor on your computer screen.

Your phone brightens again.

joon [8:17]: actually, i know you’re around

joon [8:17]: i can smell fresh coffee and you’re the only one who ever uses that crappy old pot in the lounge

Well…only you and Yoongi.

The thought crops up before you can swallow it back and it stings. You stretch your neck, taking a deep breath before reaching for your phone. Your lungs feel shrunken, not big enough for the amount of oxygen you need to stay calm.

Y/N [8:18]: i’m here

You know what’s coming, but still you watch the little ellipsis appear and disappear as you wait for Namjoon to write back.

joon [8:19]: can i talk to you?

You don’t need to ask where to find him. You stand up from your chair, phone gripped in your palm as you exit into the hallway and head for Namjoon’s studio – moving slow and steady like you’re on autopilot. The sense of responsibility and obligation you have to him is equal in size to the dread in your belly: you want nothing more than to hide, but you just can’t.

It's Namjoon.

Kim Namjoon, who eased your start at BigHit with his honest smiles and unshakeable support. He’s the last person you want to face – and, strangely, the first person you feel accountable to in all this mess.

He turns as soon as you open the door to his studio, his wide, beautiful face full of surprise for a split second before he clears his throat and mutters a quiet greeting. You nod to him, shutting the door behind you so you can lean against the wall next to the frame.

You fight the urge to cross your arms, glancing around the small room while Namjoon closes a bunch of windows on his computer screen. A wave of unease washes over you, delayed – you walked here so quick you didn’t even have time to worry that Yoongi might be around. The thought is unsettling even as it registers that you and Namjoon are the only ones in the studio. You glance at the darkened recording booth and think of the stillness in your empty apartment.

Namjoon shifts in his chair. A muscle ticks in his jaw. Is he angry?

“I wrote a hundred texts to you, but…I deleted them all.”

Namjoon nods, mulling over your words for a few long moments. His long fingers tangle together in his lap.

“Are we friends?” he asks.

Your stomach twists at the simple question. You pause, waiting for the throb of shame to subside.

“Please answer me,” he says. His voice is firm.

You close your eyes and in this moment it’s impossible not to think of all the things Namjoon is to you: coworker, colleague, idol…but those words have never been enough, you realize.

Namjoon has always been someone even greater through the simplest things he’s done: helped you, laughed with you, stood up for you. He took a chance on you and never looked back.

It’s a while before you can meet his eyes again.

“I don’t know what you think of me now,” you start. “But ever since I came here…”

You swallow thickly. Namjoon waits, silent.

“…you were my heart, Joon.”

You hear him take a sharp inhale through his nose. Namjoon’s mouth twitches and he looks away, brow furrowing as he turns his gaze to the floor. He rubs at his knuckles, nods a few times.

“The more I think about how quick we became close, the less I understand,” he says. “I don’t have time for many friendships outside of the ones I have with the members. But I think…I think we feel the same way about each other, though. You and I.”

You watch the small muscle in his jaw, rippling and tightening while he thinks.

“I never really questioned that. It’s just…I keep asking myself,” Namjoon continues, stilted. He sounds like he’s laboring to get each word out. He looks up at you. “Why didn’t you tell me about hyung, Y/N-ah?”

You feel sick.

It’s not like you didn’t see this moment coming. You’ve planned for it: gone over and over your answer in your head – how you’d explain your behavior to Namjoon even when you don’t fully understand it yourself. You’d rehearsed it in your head, late into the night while you watched the sky outside your window turn from black to deep blue to grey.

But all that preparation seems to evaporate now, under Namjoon’s careful gaze. Your heart throbs; something panicky and nasty leaks into your veins.

“I…I don’t know,” you say dumbly.

Namjoon sits back in his chair.

“Why did you lie, then?” he says, a little louder this time. “I gave you a chance to talk about it, but…”

You shake your head. “I – I couldn’t.”

“…Couldn’t what?”

You want to leave, but your feet won’t move. Your mind spins.

“I couldn’t…risk my job,” you start, timid. “I mean – I knew I was risking my j-job, with him. I get that. I…the company…I just – “

You trail off. Namjoon’s eyes have turned hard, almost skeptical. You feel heat creeping up your neck.

“I was stupid,” you finish. “I am stupid. That’s all it is.”

Namjoon cocks his head to the side. “Seriously?”

He watches as you grind the toe of your shoe into the carpet. Your mouth feels dry.

“You can’t even be straight with me now, can you?” he asks, voice laced with something bitter, hurt. “You think I can’t tell when you’re feeding me some watered-down bullshit?”

You shake your head again. You want to tell him it’s not bullshit – at least, you don’t think it is. He cuts you off first.

“You wanna know when I knew something was going on?”

Namjoon chews at the inside of his cheek and you press yourself back against the wall, desperate to feel something steady behind you as you wait for him to continue. He folds his arms over his chest.

“There was this one night – Yoongi-yah was here, working in the studio. He’d texted me to say he’d be home soon. Texted all the members,” he clarifies. “We were all supposed to stay at the dorm…Yoongi had been complaining all day, saying how tired he was and how he couldn’t wait to get some sleep. He comes home late pretty often, but he always shows up when he says he will.”

Namjoon pauses.

“He didn’t come back that night. And then I was in the office early the next morning and I saw you leaving his studio. I found him in there a little while later, still asleep on the couch…and I knew.”

“That’s…we d-didn’t – we weren’t – “

Words start spilling out, rushed and stammered until you clamp your mouth shut. You take a breath.

“That was weeks – m-months before…”

You want Namjoon to stop looking at you. Frustration flares in your chest.

“…Why didn’t you say anything about it?” you ask.

“Because I care about both of you,” Namjoon answers hotly. “I didn’t have any facts and I figured one of you would speak up when it got serious.”

When?

You scoff quietly, suddenly overcome with the urge to scream. You shove your hands deeper into the pockets of your jeans.

“So you waited for me to dig a hole big enough to bury myself in?”

Namjoon pauses, eyes narrowing a bit. “That’s – “

“We were friends, Joon – you could have come to me, too.”

“First of all, I don’t know why you’re talking in the past-tense – but for the record, I did come to you,” he presses. “I asked you about Yoongi and you lied to me.”

“That was after the fact – “

“What fact?” he asks, speaking over you. He spreads his hands wide. “I still have no idea how things got this messy. You and hyung are still avoiding the truth here and acting like it’s reasonable to just walk away from this.”

“It is reasonable.”

He pushes a hand through his hair, clenching his jaw briefly. “I’m not – I’m not trying to pry into what happened between you two. I just want to know why you hid it from me but I’m starting to think you don’t even know the answer.”

Your face flushes and your chest tightens. You want to yell – to call him out; he’s an idol himself and there’s no way that he – Kim Namjoon, IQ of 148 – can’t do the math here. You push yourself off of the wall.

“It’s like I told you – I’m stupid,” you spit, voice shaking slightly. “I felt like an idiot, OK? I didn’t want to look you in the eye and tell you I slept with someone in this company. With an idol. Like it’s not hard enough to be a woman in this industry, I did the one fucking thing I’m not supposed to do.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows raise and he opens his mouth but you keep going.

“How could I admit that to you? After all you did for me…and that’s still beside the fact that he’s your friend – “

“Y/N-ah – “

“I’m sorry. I crossed a line and I’m fucking sorry, Namjoon,” you clip out.

“Y/N-ah – I don’t – “

“It’s over now. I know my place and it’s over, so you don’t have to worry. I swear.”

“But you and hyung – wait – !”

Namjoon calls out to you but you’re already out the door. Blood rushes in your ears as you go; you hear Namjoon come to the threshold of the studio but he doesn’t say anything more. You can feel his eyes on your back and suddenly the emptiness of your apartment doesn’t seem so horrible.

Chapter Text

Flashes of yellow light burst across the inside of Yoongi’s eyelids, one after another in quick succession.

It’s early, and all he wants to do is get some sleep before the day’s grueling schedule begins. Yoongi cracks open his eyes and peers blearily out from under the brim of his ballcap – the sun isn’t up yet as the shuttle van cruises away from the BigHit building. He leans his head against the window and watches the streetlights flick by.

Hoseok and Taehyung are chatting quietly where they sit opposite Yoongi, heads tilted together while they look at something on the dancer’s phone. Hoseok is always a ball of energy but Yoongi has no idea how the younger member has any gas at all at this hour – the whole group had an unusually late practice last night and even then, the maknaes stayed up past when everyone else shuffled off to bed. Taehyung watches the screen of Hoseok’s phone with wide, bright eyes while he munches on a huge chunk of gimbap and Yoongi feels exhausted just looking at him.

There’s a soft rustling sound off to the left as Jin pulls his own phone out from the depths of his oversized puffer coat. Yoongi glances at his roommate but says nothing – it’s too early for banter and neither of them have had much to say to one another over the past couple of weeks, anyway.

“Hyung?”

Yoongi looks and sees Taehyung holding out his roll of sliced gimbap. He wiggles it in Yoongi’s direction and the plastic wrap crinkles quietly.

“Do you want some?”

Yoongi shakes his head but mumbles a thank-you all the same. Taehyung pops another thick slice into his mouth and watches Yoongi with an appraising look.

“You must be dieting,” he says through a mouthful of rice, gim and egg. He gulps thickly. “You look skinny, hyung.”

Hoseok and Jin are still peering at their phones but Yoongi catches sight of them locking eyes for a brief moment. Jin shifts in his seat, angling his broad shoulders slightly away from Yoongi as he moves his phone closer to his face and focuses in on the game he’s playing.

Yoongi coughs a bit to clear his throat. He folds his arms tighter across his chest.

“Just not hungry, Taehyung-ah. ‘S early.”

Hoseok continues to eye him with some concern but Yoongi ignores it. He’s telling the truth, anyway; he just hasn’t had an appetite lately – not for food, nor any of the other things that usually break up the monotony of his never-ending busy schedule. Idols are supposed to be skinny, he thinks, and that’s what he’ll tell anyone who bugs him about his diet too many times.

Food is the least of Yoongi’s worries these days. He’s too worn out to be hungry. Sleep has always been one of Yoongi’s absolute favorite things but now every night is like a game of Russian roulette – one where he risks dreaming rather than catching a bullet.

It's twisted, really – how Yoongi both fears and hopes that he’ll dream about you. During the day he plows through practices and photoshoots and tapings to keep you off his mind; he avoids the studio as much as he can because it’s just too quiet and his mind wanders too much there. At night, however, he has no control – once sleep finally takes him, there’s no way to keep you at bay.

Sometimes Yoongi’s mind plays a single scene on repeat: you staring him down in the studio, your eyes hard like steel as you rise from your chair and push past him into the hall. Just as often you come to him like sunlight and his dreams are full of your laughter. Occasionally he wakes to the feeling of your hair slipping through his fingers – though when he really comes to, all he finds is the soft fabric of his sheets twisted in his hands.

He’s secretly grateful for all of it – for every dream, even though he knows none of it’s real – but loathes himself a little more each morning. Sometimes Yoongi dreams about his hands on your body and wakes up in a feverish sweat with his cock already hard and aching. Those are the worst mornings – when he has to wait for the want to subside or else grit his teeth and stomach the shame of jerking himself off to some memory of you. He hates himself the most on those days.

Yoongi has experienced lust and longing before…but nothing quite like this. He’s never had desire and despair tangled so closely together. It’s distracting at best and physically nauseating when it reaches peak intensity – though nothing bothers him more than the doubt.

Yoongi is still skeptical – of you, and the stories you told him about Jooheon and Yeonjun; of Jin and the things he disclosed (supposedly) in Yoongi’s interest. He’s rarely questioned Namjoon before but now he worries if the leader will ever trust him again. More than anything, though, he doubts himself.

The shuttle van hits a bump in the road and everyone jostles a bit in their seats. Yoongi looks down at his hands and realizes he’s been picking at his cuticles again. There’s a corner of skin near his thumbnail that’s ragged and threatening to bleed, so he curls his fingers into his palms and chews at the inside of his cheek instead.

“How’s your mixtape coming, Yoongi-yah?”

He glances up at the sound of Hoseok’s voice. The dancer has lowered his phone and is looking across the cabin at Yoongi, a slice of gimbap halfway to his mouth. Yoongi scratches at his nose.

“It’s…fine,” he says dully. “Got a lot done last week.”

The answer doesn’t sound remotely convincing, and Yoongi knows it. He doesn’t have the energy to fake it in a convincing way.

The truth is that Yoongi is beginning to think about curating and sequencing the tracks on his mixtape – a part of the process that he usually loves – but he can’t seem to settle on any decision, no matter how small. Yoongi’s self-loathing has somehow bled into the most precious part of his life and even working on music feels like a drain. Doubt poisons his mind in the studio the same way it creeps in whenever he thinks about the way he let you go more than two weeks ago now.

He can’t trust himself with good things, maybe. Yoongi stares out the window of the van again and wonders when he’ll stop being so fucked up – when he’ll stop making messes big enough to drown in. His throat tightens and he swallows hard to hold the thought down deep.

“I can’t wait to hear it, hyung,” Hoseok says kindly. “I’m sure you’ll do well.”

Yoongi grunts, bristling slightly at the compliment. He doesn’t want to talk about his mixtape – in fact, he just wants this day to be over so he can get back to his apartment and pour himself a drink. Yoongi tugs his cap low over his eyes and slumps in his seat, wishing – as he sometimes does – that he’d never become an idol. He lets his eyelids slip shut against the glare of the streetlights and wishes he’d picked a life he could hide from.

“Urghh…”

A croaky groan leaves your throat as you stir, reaching one hand up to rub at your eyes. Your whole face feels puffy and a bit oily and your legs are like lead. Did you fall asleep, or…?

You cough and open your eyes enough to take in the waning light cast over the ceiling of your living room. You’re laid on the couch, tangled in a blanket that’s currently trapping your body in what feels like inferno-level heat. You push yourself up onto your elbows and pull the blanket aside.

“Fuck – “

There’s a loud clatter as your laptop slides from the tops of your thighs on to the floor beside the couch. You lurch to the side to grab it, slowing a bit as a headrush swoops over you from sitting up too fast. You thunk the computer down on your coffee table and squint at the screen – there’s a half-written email still open. You must have passed out just a few sentences in.

The clock on your laptop says it’s a little after nine o’clock – way too late to be napping. There’s a horrible taste in your mouth and a dull ache throbs just behind your eyes. Cursing yourself, you rise from the couch and shuffle down the hall toward the bathroom. On the way, you lift a corner of your wrinkled t-shirt to your nose and grimace – definitely time for laundry, you think.

You brush your teeth and wonder if you’ll have energy to get to the laundromat tomorrow. After rinsing your toothbrush and stowing it back in its holder, you strip off your t-shirt and let it drop in a small heap on the floor. You lean in toward the mirror and smoosh your fingers against the swollen patches under your eyes, hoping they’ll go down on their own…

As you scan your reflection your gaze settles on a small constellation of freckles on your stomach – just three flecks of pigment, dotted in a crooked line from your lowest rib to your belly button. You trace your thumb along their path, wondering when they appeared…you never really noticed them until recently. Yoongi found them one day while you laid in bed and after that he made a point to count them with his lips every time he nosed his way down your body –

You swat at the light switch and exit the bathroom abruptly, buzzing from the sudden intrusion on your memory. You cross the hall to your bedroom and start scavenging around on the floor for something to replace your t-shirt.

It’s hard to see what’s what in the dim light of your bedside lamp. Half your closet is spilled across the hardwood flooring of your room since you haven’t cared enough to put anything away lately. You pick up and toss aside a few shirts, each one grimier and more rumpled than the last. You grab a black lump of fabric up from the floor but freeze as soon as you realize what it is.

Yoongi’s sweatshirt. What starts as mild recognition snowballs into cold dread as you unfurl one sleeve in your hands and locate a familiar rip in the cuff. You’d noticed the little notch one morning as you rode the metro back from his apartment, cheeks aching from the way you hid your smile when he insisted you take the hoodie with you –

The fabric slips from your fingers and you straighten up. You kick the garment under your bed with your toes and stalk from the room, grabbing your robe from the back of your bathroom door before heading back to the living room. A bathrobe definitely counts as a shirt, you tell yourself.

Knotting the sash around your waist, you let out a shaky exhale and flop on to your couch. You ignore the way your heartbeat’s crept up into the tight little space between your collarbones and reach for the TV remote.

Just as your finger hovers over the power button, a loud knock comes at your door.

“Son of a…“

You curse under your breath, temper flaring as you jump up again. You have no idea who could be knocking at this time of night but you’re sure as hell not in the mood for guests. You grab for the handle without checking the peephole and yank the door open.

“I – oh.”

Songhee stands at the threshold of your apartment, purse clutched in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. Her eyes focus in on your face briefly before roving down to your bare feet. She blinks.

“You’re not dressed.”

You lick your lips. “Um…no?”

Songhee stares at you, expressionless. Her whole head of hair is dyed a pretty shade of rose-gold – a more feminine look than you’ve ever seen on her. A set of choppy bangs hangs over her dark eyes.

“It’s Friday, Y/N-ah,” she says flatly. “Friday.”

A sinking feeling sets into your stomach. You take a step back, clutching at your own dirty bun with one hand as your head spins. Friday…

“I…shit, I didn’t think – “

Songhee starts to move forward, towering over you slightly in a pair of chunky black boots. She’s dressed in a pair of black joggers and a sleek jacket covers up whatever tiny, cropped top she has on. Her winged eyeliner is precise and clean.

“You didn’t think what?”

Her tone is still even as she fixes you with her sharp eyes. You back up enough to let her into your apartment and Songhee shuts the door behind her. You open your mouth to speak but she continues.

“I sent you three or four texts today – didn’t you get them?”

Your eyes flit to where your phone is sticking up from between two couch cushions. It’s been dead since this morning. You swallow.

“I don’t know where my charger is, actually…um – “

Songhee looks away from you and strides into your kitchen. She sets the plastic bag down on the counter and you hear the clinking of bottles from inside as you nervously trail after her. You fiddle with the sash of your bathrobe.

“Songhee – “

“Look,” she says firmly, turning to face you again. You see the muscles of her jaw ripple briefly as she sets her teeth. “You bailed on our plans last weekend – which was fine. Things happen. I could tell you weren’t in a great place, so I wasn’t going to hound you about it.”

You nod. She narrows her eyes and you can’t tell if she’s thinking about what to say next or if she’s just pissed.

“But then you suggested we go out tonight instead. Do you remember that?”

You pause, struggling to think back on your last conversation with her. She’d called while you were curled up on a couch in one of the studios at BigHit and at the time you just wanted to get off the phone as quickly as possible. You do remember saying something about this weekend…

“Fuck,” you curse, stomach churning. “I’m sorry, I totally spaced – “

“No, you didn’t,” Songhee snaps. She crosses her arms. “You don’t space on things. You’re my best friend and I think I know you pretty well. You show up when you say you will and you answer your phone.”

“I – “

“You can’t tell me you just forgot,” she presses on, speaking over you. “I know you better than that and I think I deserve more than that lame-ass excuse – so instead of wasting my time, you can cut to the chase and tell me what’s really going on here.”

You feel your head shake side to side and words form on your tongue before you can even think them through.

“Nothing’s going on.”

Silence fills the small kitchen. Songhee regards you quietly for a long moment before reaching into the plastic bag and taking out two bottles of soju. She lifts a shoulder.

“Fine. Get dressed, then.”

You blink, confused. Your mouth feels dry as you watch her turn and open up on of your cabinets.

“But…what do you – “

“I can wait,” she says over her shoulder. Songhee pulls two small cups down and sets them on the counter. “It’s still early – go on and get ready.”

“N-no.”

Songhee looks up at you. “No?”

You shrug, frustration starting to prickle under your skin.

“It’s late.”

“It’s not even ten,” she retorts quickly.

You rub at the back of your neck. “I’m tired, Songhee.“

“Jump in the shower. It’ll wake you up.”

“But – “

“I’ll start drinking while I wait!”

“No, Songhee – “

“Why not?”

“BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO FUCKING GO, OK??”

The words explode in the few feet between you. Songhee’s nostrils flare and you feel your heart pounding in your ears.

“Tell me what’s going on,” she spits, demanding.

“Nothing.”

“I’m sick of asking – “

“Then don’t ask.”

“Where’s Yoongi, Y/N-ah?”

The sound of his name hits you like a slap in the face. You freeze until Songhee takes a step closer and you spin toward the living room.

“Y/N?”

“I don’t know what that has to do with anything,” you say stiffly, heading for the couch.

“You don’t talk about him anymore.”

“So?”

“You don’t talk about anything anymore, but especially not him – “

“And??” Your voice gets a little higher as you pace by the couch, too wound to sit suddenly.

“Did something happen with you and Yoongi?”

“No,” you clip out, stopping in your tracks to face her. Songhee looks more worried than angry now but you don’t care. “Nothing happened, he just…we just aren’t hanging out anymore.”

Songhee pauses.

“…Why?”

Anger – pure and hot – curls in your chest.

“Why do you care, Songhee??” you cry, flinging your hands down by your sides.

“I care because you’ve been a ghost lately,” she snaps back. “Excuse me for worrying about you – “

“Why did you even come here? Just to bitch at me??”

She scoffs bitterly, shaking her head. “I came here to try and help you, Y/N-ah – you can’t even see that, can you?”

“I – “

“You’re so hung up on the fact that this idol isn’t dicking you down anymore – you can’t even see yourself.”

Your throat tightens and your hands shake. You open your mouth to reply – to scream at her, to send her away – but all that comes out is a thin, pitiful sound. You catch sight of Songhee’s eyes going wide and then everything is blurry.

“Whoa – hey – “

Her voice sounds oddly far away over the sudden roaring in your ears. Your eyes are stinging; your breath comes in short, weird hiccups and before you can protest, Songhee has her arms wrapped around you.

Your body judders as you try to hold back swell after swell of emotion. Your brain spins with the impulse to apologize but you’re struck silent aside from the choppy, wet sobs that slip out as you tuck your face into Songhee’s soft hair. Shame stirs in your belly but it’s swallowed up quickly, overridden by the heaviness in your limbs. Your knees go soft and Songhee squeezes you tighter.

“I’m sorry – I’m so sorry,” she repeats, muttering hurriedly to you. You feel her palm press against the back of your head. “I didn’t mean that. I’m an asshole – I’m sorry, sweetie – “

She tugs you to the couch, helping you ease down onto one of the cushions. She sits beside you and waits while you ride out the flood with fingers splayed over your face, eyes shielded as you try to catch your breath. Tears drip down your chin, your wrists – each one a shock and a relief as the tightness in your chest starts to ease.

After a long while, you gather the courage to pull your hands from your face and drag sleeve of your robe across your dripping nose. Songhee rubs at your shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” says again, her voice tight. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was upset, and – “

“N-no, you’re…you’re right – “

The movement of Songhee’s hand against your back slows when you speak up. You sniffle wetly, pausing to try and gulp down a steadying breath.

“He’s – he’s an idol, and I-I’m hung up,” you stammer, vision blurry where moisture still clings to your lashes. “We w-were just screwing around, and – I mean…I m-mean it was just a stupid hook-up, right?”

Songhee watches quietly as you knot your fingers together in your lap. She reaches up and carefully tucks a loose piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Y/N-ah,” Songhee says softly. “I think you know it wasn’t just that.”

The words hang the quiet of your living room.

There’s a part of you that wants to argue with her – the same part that’s dogged your every waking moment over the last few weeks, keeping you always on guard. It crops up whenever Yoongi crosses your mind; it drove you to run from Namjoon’s studio last week. You’ve been on the defensive for so long that it’s automatic now.

But you’re sick of that voice. Sick of the way it makes you feel. Sick of pretending like everything is OK.

So you nod, and you don’t fight or hide the fresh tears that track down your cheeks. Songhee reaches for you and you lean in.

She doesn’t ask any questions. She lets you cry a little more, sitting patiently by your side until you feel ready to move. She walks with you down the hall and helps you undress and run a hot shower; she takes off her shoes and jacket and perches on your bathroom counter while you stand under the scalding spray of water and start to talk.

You tell her about that horrible afternoon in Genius Lab. You tell her about your run-in with Yoongi later that day. You tell her about meeting with Namjoon in his studio. She listens as you dump out all the things you’ve run from over the last few months – even your falling out with Yeonjun. You falter through some of the details and everything hurts in a dull, insistent way – but hidden behind your shower curtain, shrouded in steam, you find yourself unable to stop the flow of words.

Songhee listens silently and hands you a towel when you’re done. She leaves while you dry off; you find her sitting on the edge of your bed when you emerge from the bathroom. You climb under the sheets still wrapped in your towel and she lays down beside you, on top of the comforter but still so near.

You leave the bedside lamp lit and lie together for awhile, the room silent except for the muffled sounds of the city beyond your window.

“Songhee…”

Your friend stirs when you speak suddenly. Even with your eyes closed, you can feel her watching you – you can feel her listening.

“…I wish I didn't miss him so much.”

Her fingers find yours and you let the ache in your chest bloom again.

Chapter Text

A lot can change in twenty-four hours.

Songhee stayed through the night and into the next day. Upon waking up, she insisted on making breakfast for you – and upon opening up your fridge, she insisted that you put on some real pants and buy yourself some groceries.

She walked you to a small market nearby and made conversation with the middle-aged couple behind the register while you wandered the narrow aisles, filling your basket with comforting items. Songhee took one look at your haul of chips, banchan and SPAM before steering you back toward the coolers of meat and produce. Even though you protested and argued that you wouldn’t be up to cooking any time soon, she convinced you to buy eggs and green onions and cheese so she could try and make you an omelette.

The two of you spent the entire day together. Songhee borrowed sweats from your closet and together you posted up on the couch. She kept you fed and talked when you wanted to talk; she made you laugh as much as possible and curled up beside you for multiple naps. By evening, you had a decent appetite and felt up to taking another long shower.

When you emerged from the bathroom afterward, you found Songhee lingering just outside the door.

“Hey,” she said as you walked out in your towel. “Feeling OK?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s getting late, Songhee – you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.”

“Eh,” she responded, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. “You’re not so bad to be around. Depressing, yeah – but still entertaining somehow.”

Songhee followed as you shuffled into your bedroom, twirling a long strand of hair around one of her fingers. She watched as you clicked on the lamp on your bedside table.

“So you know that guy I’ve been seeing – Doyun? The bartender?”

You paused, thinking. “The one I’ve never met or seen a picture of?”

“That’s the one,” she grinned. “He’s working in Gangnam tonight and asked if I wanted to come out…”

You squeezed at your wet hair with a hand towel, sitting down on the edge of your bed to look at Songhee. Her expression was unreadable in the dim light.

“…Are you gonna go?”

She shrugged again. “Maybe. Or: I could blow him off and stay here with you, if you still want some company.”

She watched you from her spot by the door, leaning up against the wall with a questioning look in her eye. Songhee raised an eyebrow and you glanced away to peer at the clock on your phone’s lockscreen – it was just past nine.

“Well,” you said slowly, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “I don’t really want to be alone…”

Songhee nodded, waiting.

“…but I don’t really want to stay here, either.”

“Do you want to come with me?”

You tangled your fingers together in your lap as a titter of nervous energy took up in your stomach. “Well…maybe one drink would be nice.”

Songhee crossed the room and perched beside you before putting her arm around your shoulders and squeezing.

“It’s up to you,” she said firmly. “We can stay as long or as little as you want, seriously – or we don’t have to go at all.”

You thought for a long moment before looking over at her.

“…Can I borrow something to wear?”

Your nerves turned to excitement as Songhee packed you into her tiny car and dragged you to her flat in Yongsan-gu. By the time she dressed you up in her best jeans and helped you blow out your hair, you were certain that a night out was the next logical step in trying to pull yourself out of the hole you’d been wallowing in for weeks. You weren’t looking to get hammered – just to have a couple drinks, enough to relax and feel normal.

That plan changed almost as soon as you walked into the club in Gangnam.

It was still before midnight and early by Seoul standards, but the place was packed – and loud. The noise and the heat took you off-guard and almost immediately you found yourself missing your quiet apartment. Songhee held on tight, though, as you cut through the crowd; you clutched her small hand and swallowed back a wave of anxiety while she searched for an open spot at the bar, counting on her aura of confidence to buoy you into the night.

She spotted Doyun and pointed him out while the two of you waited for drinks. He was smaller than you expected – with a slim build and a long hank of hair tied up over his undercut, he stood out from the hyper-masculine guys that Songhee usually dated. He waved at her from the other end of the bar and you smiled to yourself as you spotted a happy flush in her cheeks.

Eager to calm your nerves, you finished your first drink quickly. Some of Songhee’s friends materialized and joined for a couple more rounds before she dragged you on the dancefloor. You were grateful to get away – you didn’t really feel like meeting new people or making conversation. It was easy to jump and dance and goof off with Songhee – it felt right to get swallowed up by the deafening throb of music pumping through the club. Soon you forgot about your nerves and the tight squeeze of your borrowed heels; eventually you forgot about everything else, too.

Damp with sweat, the two of you escaped the crowd to share a round of shots before claiming a high-top table with a couple of her friends. You get stuck standing next to Eunyoung, who Songhee described as: “a model, but, like, not that bad once you get to know her. Just give her a chance.”

Drunk and finally feeling up to socializing, you slip into an easy conversation with the younger woman. Songhee stands on your other side and half-listens in while Eunyoung talks your ear off about modeling for a yogurt company. She’s a fast talker – equally chatty and pretty, with big eyes and a heart-shaped face that makes her look like a real-life version of an anime character.

You smile and nod as your buzz continues to deepen, a fuzzy kind of relaxation settling into your bones – until Eunyoung abruptly flips the subject on you.

“So you make music like Songhee-unnie, right, Y/N-ssi?”

You’re just starting to nod when Eunyoung pelts you with a follow-up question.

“No, wait – don’t you work for that big-ass music company??”

Next to you, Songhee snorts as she lifts her drink to her lips. “It’s BigHit – not big-ass.”

If Eunyoung hears, she doesn’t react. She just sets her elbows on the table and leans in toward you in a conspiratorial kind of way, her eyes going wide and round.

“Do you get to talk to BTS??”

You wince at the volume of her voice which is close to hollering over the music. Eunyoung’s eyes shine with giddy interest as she waits for you to answer. You swear you actually see her pupils shaking with excitement.

Glancing over at Songhee, you see she’s distracted – spine straightening up as she stares down the bar to where Doyun is chatting with a group of women. You clear your throat.

“Uh – I work with a bunch of different people, actually,” you supply vaguely. You tuck your straw into your mouth and take an extra-long sip of your cocktail to avoid saying anything more.

“That’s so cool,” Eunyoung purrs. “Is it crazy working with people that famous?”

“Well…I don’t – “

“Actually – wait – I work with famous people!!” she cuts you off, laughing loudly. She waves a hand at you. “Not that you want to hear about that, though, right??”

“Um…”

“So do you have a bias??”

You blink at her, taken aback. “A…b-b – a what?”

“In BTS!! Who’s your favorite??”

Realization sets in and you’re suddenly mourning the fact that you didn’t order a double. Mistaking your dumbfounded silence for coyness, Eunyoung smacks your arm playfully and does an antsy little shuffle in her stilettos.

“Come on!! You must have a bias – or is that like, not cool to talk about because you work there??”

“I m-mean…kind of, yeah,” you stammer, raising one shoulder in an awkward shrug. Eunyoung continues to pin you with an expectant gaze. “But I guess – j-hope?”

She squeals and wrings her hands. “He’s perfect!! That makes so much sense for you. I love it. Mine’s Suga.”

Perfect.

Somehow hearing Yoongi’s stage name dulls the blow a bit but still you find yourself reeling as soon as the syllables fall from Eunyoung’s perfectly lined and glossed lips. You toss your straw on the table and tilt your glass back to drain the last inch of alcohol as quick as possible while she keeps chattering.

“I love his voice. And he just seems so intense and intimidating, you know?” she gushes, a dreamy look spreading over her face. “Like he’d be really bossy in bed, I bet…”

You gulp. “Um – “

Eunyoung pushes her long hair back over her shoulder, laying two fingers across the rim of her highball glass as she steps in closer to you. She arches an eyebrow and holds up a hand to shield her mouth as if she’s about to share a secret with you.

“If I had your job, I’d be gagging to fuck him,” she adds with a tittering laugh. “Any of them, actually, for that matter – “

“You know what??”

You cut Eunyoung off, clapping a hand on her shoulder suddenly before pointing toward the far end of the bar. She follows the line of your finger.

“I think I just saw someone I know. Let’s catch up later?”

Without waiting for an answer you take off, leaving Eunyoung looking confused as you brush past her and Songhee. There’s heat creeping up your neck and you’re desperate for a little space to clear your mind. You make your way along the edge of the crowd and head to the far end of the club to order two shots, taking them in quick succession as soon as the bartender slides them over to you. The liquor burns in your belly – satisfying but not enough to totally cover up the nasty feeling that Eunyoung left under your skin.

You decide the best way to shake it off is to move your body. Songhee is still back at the table with her friends so you slip onto the packed dancefloor by yourself, hoping to disappear for a little while until you get your bearings. The music is louder than your thoughts and you find a decent patch of territory for yourself – far enough away from the leer of sweaty dudes or the many obnoxious couples that dot the club like landmines. You shut your eyes to the flashing lights and let your limbs move as they want, relieved to give into the numbing combination of alcohol and music.

Time slips by and you don’t surface from the crowd until you’re dizzy and dying for a drink of water. You make your way back through the crowd toward the bars on somewhat wobbly legs; one man stumbles into you and you bounce off of him like a pinball. A pair of strong hands stop you from falling – irritated and hellbent on getting a drink, you pull away without stopping to thank them.

You spot Songhee from a few yards away, her rose-gold hair standing out among the heads at the bar. She turns as you approach and locks eyes with you; she immediately raises a hand to wave you down and you see her mouth form the shape of your name, her voice lost in the roar. You wave back and try to stay steady on your heels as you change course in her direction.

You push through the crush of people waiting for drinks, winnowing your body between a tight cluster of men to get to Songhee. She reaches out a manicured hand and grabs your arm to pull you through.

“Hey!!”

She’s yelling right in your face but you can barely hear her. Songhee drags you closer and cups her hands around your ear to speak again.

“Doyun has something to ask you!”

You nod faintly, turning to face the slim man behind the bar. A deep house beat picks up just as you meet Doyun’s eye and he lifts his hand in greeting.

You return the gesture, head swimming a bit as the beat thuds through your belly and the clubgoers around you burst into a chorus of cheers. You feel like all your organs are vibrating to the rhythm of whatever the DJ is playing right now. Doyun beckons you closed before putting his hands around his mouth and hollering something at you.

“You…an…too?”

You shake your head. “Wh-what?!”

Doyun laughs but the sound is swallowed up by the music. He pushes a shot glass across the bar, nudging it in your direction just as neon magenta light cuts across the club and throws every detail of his face into clear contrast. His mouth curves and you notice that his smile reaches his eyes.

You swallow back the shot, blinking and squinting as the club lights begin to strobe and Doyun reaches to retrieve the empty glass once you set it back down. He shouts something to you again but it’s lost in the noise of the crowd and the ringing in your ears. He leans forward a bit, hanging over the bar to speak to you and then the room is thrown into an acid green glow.

His mouth is moving again but your gaze settles in on Doyun’s eyes.

They’re soft, almost a little sleepy-looking –  asymmetrical, you realize: one lid creased, the other smooth where it slopes down to a little tuck at the outer edge. Familiar.

A prickle of recognition stirs in your brain and then transforms rapidly in the strange light of the club, turning your pulse rapid and weak as a twisted version of déjà vu sets in.

A shock of goosebumps runs up your spine and you automatically shove yourself back from the edge of the bar. There’s a burst of cold across your shoulder blade as you knock into someone’s drink and send it splashing over the back of your blouse. Doyun’s brow furrows in confusion just before you twist around and start to push against the people crowded behind you, ignoring their irritated cries.

It's too much – the noise, the heat, the crushing closeness with so many strangers. Doyun’s eyes look so much like Yoongi’s and already you can feel a swell of panic mushrooming in your gut. Your throat tightens and you’re not sure you can hold it down if you don’t get out here – fast.

Songhee grabs your wrist as you pass, pulling you around to face her.

“Hey,” she calls over the music. Her eyes are wide. “You OK??”

You shake your head. “Y-yeah, just – I need air…”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“N-no,” you choke out. “Don’t – just stay. Please.”

Her eyes are wide and worried but she nods after a moment and lets you slip away. You careen through the club, weaving a jagged path through the crowd that doesn’t seem to thin no matter how close you get to the door. By the time you make it up the stairs to the exit you’re nauseous and out of breath. The bouncer at the landing casts you a strange look as you blow by but it barely registers – you just need to get outside.

Once you’re on the street, you get away from the club as quickly as possible. You cut across clogged lanes of traffic to escape the long line of people still waiting out front to get in, nearly toppling over onto the hood of a taxi as you go. Gangnam feels like a blur of noise and light; every blinking sign and car horn threatens to push you over the brink of panic so you focus blindly on moving one foot in front of the other, stumbling quickly past storefronts and bars as you flee.

“Shit – shit – “

Muttering anxiously, you try to reason with the voice in your head – but it’s late and your brain is a drunken jumble of impulses.

You think you could get on the metro and head toward Hongdae, toward home – but that means seeing more people and being trapped in a small, stuffy subway car and that just might make you come unglued. The night air feels good on your face but you can only walk so far in your heels. You might be able to make it to the BigHit building from here, you realize, and suddenly the quiet of the studio seems like the only place in the world to be.

Spun-out and wound-up, your thoughts tangle and blend in a disorienting way as you plod through increasingly empty streets. You think of Songhee – still back at the club, probably confused and maybe pissed off; you think of Doyun’s soft, mismatched eyes and immediately the initial sting of familiarity rushes back.

Your mind conjures up Yoongi’s face and it’s been so long since you’ve seen him that the thought actually physically hurts – hurts enough to slow your footsteps as you wander beneath a buzzing streetlamp.

Even as your chest aches with a horribly hollow feeling, you linger with the image – trying as best you can to hold on to the shape of Yoongi’s features. Like pressing on a bruise you close your eyes and pull him up in vivid detail for as long as you can stand it, wrapping your arms tight around you as moisture pricks behind your eyelids…

A car honks suddenly and you’re pulled from your thoughts and back into the strange Seoul night. The air is too close even though you’re outside and alone, now reasonably far away from the bustle of Gangnam’s clubs. You can almost smell the Han River and you know you’re nearing the edge of the district. The office is close, you tell yourself – you’ll be there soon…

But the Dongho bridge walk must be just as close, you realize. You could cross the Han and be in Hannam-dong before too long – it’s not so much farther to walk. All the apartment buildings on the hill look the same to you but you could probably find the dorm on your own.

Your fingers scrabble against the back pocket of your jeans as you pull out your phone. Vision blurry, you squint at the screen as it lights up: it’s past two in the morning. You wonder if any of the members are still awake.

You wonder if Yoongi is up – maybe watching TV, or laying out things for coffee in the morning…

You wonder if he’d answer if you called.

If you could just speak to him, you think – even just hear his voice – you’d feel OK again. Everything would slow down.

You’re sure of it.

Your hands shake as you open up your texts, scrolling down to the last messages you exchanged with Yoongi.

Y/N [3:57]: just want you

MYG [3:59]: come here then

You notice the date in the timestamp and your head spins.

Weeks ago – almost a month. A seemingly endless thread of communication and then…nothing.

Silence.

You shove your phone back in your pocket, shame rushing through your veins like a flashflood. You can’t call him – that would be insane, you think bitterly. He’s gone; he’s been gone and –

Your toe catches on a jut of cement in the sidewalk and suddenly you’re on the ground, ears ringing, the whole world tilting around you. There’s grit under your knees and your wrists throb as you whine quietly and push yourself off the pavement. You reach for a nearby signpost to steady yourself as you rise, holding down the swell of dizzy nausea that’s curdling in your stomach.

The final stretch to the BigHit building is grueling – head pounding and limbs worn, you stumble the last few blocks like a zombie. The lights of the lobby are blinding once you fish out your ID and swipe it over the magnetic pad at the front door; there’s only one security guard on duty and mercifully he doesn’t ask questions when you pass by on the way to the elevators.

The fourth floor is dead-quiet, of course. The emptiness of the hall greets you and relief floods your veins. You fish your keys out from your pocket as you trudge toward one of the empty studios – one with a soft leather couch that’s calling your name. You brush your hair from your eyes as you reach the door, hiccupping quietly as you grasp the door handle and try to steady your hand enough to line the studio key up the lock.

“Y/N-noona?”

The voice comes from down the hall and it’s so soft you barely catch it.

Looking up, you blink a few times and squint to focus your eyes – only to find Jungkook looking back at you, standing in the hall with one hand still holding open the door of Genius Lab.

Your fingers slacken and your keys drops to the floor. Startled by the jangling noise, you glance quickly away from Jungkook and crouch to pick them up. Embarrassment mixes with the drunk-fueled gloom in your belly and your face burns behind a curtain of hair that falls forward from your shoulder.

When Jungkook’s voice comes again, it’s closer.

“What are you doing here?”

You straighten up to your feet, swaying a bit before trying for the lock again. The key slides in and you fight with the chamber for a moment.

“N-nothing…just work. Y’know,” you stammer. “Why’re you here? ‘S late.”

“Practicing choreo. Just came down to grab this...”

You glance over as he holds up an aux cord, a weak smile on his lips.

“Left it on hyung’s desk,” Jungkook finishes. He pauses, eyes wide as he searches your face. “Are you alright, noona?”

The studio door finally opens but you pause, fingers wrapped around the handle as you look back at Jungkook. His hair is damp, plastered in little clumps to his brow and temples; he’s barefaced and you can see dark patches where sweat has soaked into his baggy t-shirt.

You glance down at where your jeans are ripped at the knee, showing a little patch of angry pink skin from when you tripped on the sidewalk outside. Your heels are scuffed and you’re wearing way more makeup than you’ve ever had on at the office – though you’re sure half of it is smudged by now.

You’re exhausted. Too tired to pretend, and too drunk to come up with a cover story anyway. You give a soft, joyless chuckle.

“I don’t know, Kook…”

Shuffling into the dark studio, you feel around on the wall for the light switch but give up and make for the couch. You’re not surprised when Jungkook follows you in – you knew he’d do it; you might be pretty wasted but you recognize the look in his eye.

Concern. Maybe pity. Definitely a blend you’ve been wary of lately. But coming from Jungkook…it feels different.

You slump down on the carpet, leaning your back against the foot of the couch. Jungkook flicks on a table lamp on the desk and crosses the room with quiet steps to take a seat just by your shoulder. He doesn’t say anything at first – he just scratches at his temple and steals a glance at you every few moments.

“Do you…want to be alone?”

You pull your knees up to your chest and hiccup a few times. You shake your head.

“No.”

“OK,” he says softly. There’s another long pause. “Um – your elbow is bleeding…”

You look down, twisting your arm in a strange way until you see a dark red blotch on the sleeve of your blouse. You must have scraped it when you fell and didn’t even realize. You shrug and shove your hands through your hair.

“Whatever. Doesn’t hurt.”

“How did you do it?”

“Just walking here,” you answer after swallowing back a knot in your throat. “I don’t know. Fell, I guess…just – just fell being stupid…”

“…Why are you saying you’re stupid?”

Jungkook is full of questions and it’s making your head spin even more. You turn your face up toward where he sits and focus your gaze in on his round eyes.

“Kook – don’t.”

He looks back at you steadily. You notice how young he looks, unmistakable even in the dim light.

“Don’t be nice to me.” The words are sour on your tongue but you take a deep breath. “I know…I know I ruined everything, and…you don’t need to be nice to me.”

Jungkook makes a little confused noise in his throat, taken aback. He tilts his head a bit and opens his mouth but you cut him off, heart pounding as you struggle to get the words right.

“I’m in this big, shitty situation because – ‘cause I couldn’t be honest, and you have every right to be angry with me. You and all the members,” you press. You hold Jungkook’s wide gaze though you really want to hide from it. “OK?”

The maknae blinks a few times and – to your surprise – his eyes go soft after a moment. His shoulders drop and his brows pull together slightly as he swallows thickly before speaking.

“I’m not angry.”

“…No?”

He looks back at you quietly. You’re suddenly aware of his closeness – of the warmth where his knee presses against your arm. Jungkook gives a small shake of his head.

“I’m sad,” he murmurs gently. “Not angry, noona…just sad.”

Somehow that hurts more than you could have possibly imagined, his words landing like a punch in your stomach. Something hot and sudden clutches at your throat and your eyes sting.

“Kook,” you say, voice thin as you turn your face away from him. “I didn’t say sorry for – for that day…in the studio, you and Namjoon and – I’m so sorry.”

He gives a soft click of his tongue. “It’s OK, Y/N-ssi – “

He goes to touch your shoulder but you pull away, shaking your head.

“I don’t…I don’t know why I didn’t apologize to you – “

“Stop, noona – you have nothing to apologize for.”

“But – “

Jungkook tries to hush you in a soft voice and your frustration flares when he reaches for your hand.

“No,” you croak fiercely, grabbing his wrist to still him. “I fucked up – so bad – an’ I know it. You’re not a kid. I should’ve said something, but I didn’t – I couldn’t – ”

“It’s alright,” Jungkook says evenly.

“But – “

“I said stop.”

You fall silent, turning your head to look at the younger man as your fingers go limp around his wrist. You’re drunk and verging on tears but the stern tone in Jungkook’s voice is obvious. He stares down at you from where he sits on the couch, his gaze open and unflinching.

“I’m not a kid – and you’re not a bad person,” he says carefully. “Do you think you’re the only one who’s ever fallen for someone you shouldn’t?”

You let go of Jungkook’s wrist, taking in a shallow breath that barely reaches your lungs. Jungkook watches your face turn from shock to confusion and a faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He looks away, eyes focusing somewhere on the far side of the room.

“The members – they think I’m too shy about things like dating,” he explains carefully. “They know I’m…talking to someone, and they tease me about it sometimes. Jimin-ah especially.”

A wisp of a memory surfaces in your foggy mind as the maknae talks.

“I am private about it, but it’s not because I’m ashamed or embarrassed,” Jungkook says. He glances down at his hands. “It’s because I…I care about this person, and I want them to do well in the company.”

Your mouth falls open as his words unfold slowly in the space between you. Jungkook goes quiet for a few moments before turning to look at you again, his eyes sadder now. You wrestle with the urge to console him but you don’t know what to say.

The maknae takes a deep breath and lets it out slow.

“So you don’t have to say sorry to me. I know it’s hard keeping a secret like that,” he continues. He watches your face. “It hurts, and me and this person…we’re not even really together  – not like you and hyung were.”

You should be the one comforting him, you think. Jungkook’s younger than you and he’s never been able to hide his soft, honest heart – not that he’s really ever tried, anyway.

But you’re worn out and drunk and overwhelmed, and suddenly the maknae doesn’t seem young at all. So you reach out your hand to him, asking for the comfort he’d been so ready to give just a minute ago.

Jungkook slides down to the floor and shuffles his body next to yours; he’s close enough to slip his arm around your shoulders and right away you feel something inside you crack under its warm weight. The dimly lit studio goes blurry, everything turning to blotches of light and color before you close your eyes and turn your face into Jungkook’s shirt.

Your heart beats hard against your ribs but the world begins to slow as you brace yourself against the younger man’s solid weight. Jungkook’s smell is unfamiliar but comforting: dryer sheets, cotton, sweat. You pull in a lungful of his boyish scent and find that it calms you right away. He lays his free arm across your knees and rests his chin on top of your head to fully wrap himself around you.

You sit together quietly for what feels like forever, until Jungkook’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He carefully releases you and fishes it out from his sweats to read a text that just came in.

He makes a little humming noise. “’S just Namjoon-hyung checking on me. I should probably head back before he worries…”

You watch as Jungkook types out a reply. His face is lit up by the screen and you can see a diligent little line of concentration between his brows as he taps away.

“Kook…why are you so good?”

Jungkook looks over at you; his large eyes are warm but still shining with something a little sad.

“You’re good too, noona,” he says quietly. “Even though it doesn’t feel that way. Don’t stay here, OK?”

You shake your head, not wanting to answer him. You’re unsure of where else you’d go besides here and afraid to admit out loud how much you really can’t be alone right now. Jungkook watches your face closely.

“…Come back to the dorms.”

You pull away a bit. “N-no, Jungkook – I – “

“Yoongi-hyung won’t be there,” he says firmly, looking into your eyes. “I promise. He’s been staying at his place.”

You quiet as your chest tightens painfully again at the mention of Yoongi. Turning your face toward the floor, you tug at a loose thread by the tear in your jeans.

“Just let me take you back,” Jungkook murmurs. “You can sleep in my bed…I can’t leave you here.”

“…But what about the others?”

He waits for you to make eye contact with him before he swipes at his phone and lifts it to his ear. Several seconds pass before someone seems to pick up his call.

“I’m still at the office,” the maknae says to the person on the other end, skipping a formal greeting. “I called to let you know Y/N-ssi is coming back with me.”

There’s a pause while Jungkook listens. You see him swallow.

“Hyung – I know…”

Another pause.

“She’ll stay in my room. I’ll take care of her. OK?”

-----

You sleep most of the way to Hannam-dong.

Jungkook wakes you up when the van arrives in the parking bay, speaking gently until you lift your heavy head from his shoulder. He thanks the driver politely before leading you onto the elevator and up to the top floors of the complex.

The dorm is silent when he lets you both inside, all the lights off except for one small one above the sink in the kitchen. You feel drained, almost dazed as Jungkook takes you down the hallway; he roots around for a clean set of sweats for you to wear and hurriedly clears off his bed. He mumbles something about sleeping in the living room and gives you a careful hug before leaving you alone. You change clothes wearily and crawl into the sheets, relieved to be wrapped in the still dark – by yourself, but not alone.

In the morning, it takes you a good three minutes to realize where you are.

You wake to find yourself wrapped in unfamiliar sheets – black, instead of your soft grey set. You’re laying on your stomach, head cocked to the side at a harsh angle and as soon as you try to raise yourself up from the mattress your neck throbs in a sharp and unforgiving way.

You groan quietly; the sudden movement sends a wave of nausea rocking through your body and you have to pause to catch your breath before slowly rolling over on to your back.

You’re stretched out on a narrow single bed – Jungkook’s, you remember, once you take a bleary scan of the room around you.

A shade is pulled over the single window to your right, hiding whatever view of the city stretches out past a desk pushed against the wall. There’s a big gaming chair in front of it and a closet directly across from the bed. Clothes are strewn all over the room, swaths of fabric balled up or hanging from the furniture in varying shades of grey and black.

Jungkook’s room is a bit of a shitshow - but you’re not exactly one to judge, you think as you carefully sit up in his bed. You raise a hand to your aching head and try to pull your fingers through the knots in your hair with little effect. Your knee is throbbing and half of your body feels like it got run over by a mid-size sedan. Without having a mirror you can still feel the puffiness around your eyes; your throat feels raw and bone-dry as you try to swallow back the sick, empty feeling stirring in your belly as your body wakes. You turn your head to the side – slowly, to protect your stiff neck – and spot your phone sitting beside an empty glass on the bedside table.

You reach over and tap a finger against your phone’s screen but find it dead. Judging by the silence all around you, you figure it must still be early morning – there are no signs of life in the dorm, or at least none that you can hear from where you sit.

The room seems to tilt a bit as you take the water glass in hand and rise to pad shakily across the floor, careful to step in between the little islands of laundry. A chunky pair of black boots sit just in front of the door; you nudge them to the side with your toes and hug Jungkook’s sweatshirt tighter around you before venturing out into the hall.

Your head and stomach are protesting your every move but you have to get water. The hall is still dim as you make your way down toward the dorm's kitchen, one hand held against your queasy belly. You’re almost to the kitchen entrance when the muffled lilt of hushed conversation reaches your ears and your footsteps slow.

“ – ‘s not up to you, Kook – “

“Hyung said it was fine.”

Your breath stills in your chest and suddenly the quiet in the dorm seems impossibly fragile as you edge toward the end of the hall and peer around the corner into the living room.

Jungkook is facing your direction, his broad stature visible beyond the figure stood between him and the entrance to the hallway: a shorter man with brown hair.

You don’t need to see his face to recognize him.

Yoongi speaks again and cold, awful surprise ripples through you at the sound of his voice.

“Were you even gonna warn me?”

“I told her you wouldn’t be here,” Jungkook replies quickly.

“I live here.”

“Not lately, you don’t.”

Your head is spinning but still you see Jungkook square up a bit as he makes his retort. His tone is firm, almost hard though there’s a shade of nervousness in his expression as he stands off with the older member.

Heart pounding, you move to shrink back behind the edge of the wall – but not before Jungkook’s round eyes flit to where you’re hidden. Yoongi’s head turns as he follows the maknae’s gaze over his shoulder.

There’s a horrible moment where Yoongi’s eyes land on your face – fleeting, but sudden and shocking enough to make you instantly dizzy. You quickly look down at where your bare feet poke out from the hem of Jungkook’s sweatpants.

“S-sorry – I was just – ”

You’re cut off as the water glass slips from your fingers and hits the wooden floor with a piercing thunk. The strange, hollow sound fills the room – loud enough to rattle in your bones before the three of you are left standing in total silence.

You remain frozen for a beat before panic takes over and you turn to flee back down the hallway. You hurry into Jungkook’s room and close the door as quickly and quietly as you can once you’re inside. Hurried footsteps patter up the hall as you rush to climb back into the single bed.

“Noona – “

Jungkook’s voice comes muffled through the door. He’s whispering though there’s a frantic, worried pitch to his voice.

“ – I’m sorry, noona – I d-didn’t know he’d come here,” he says anxiously. “I swear I didn’t know!”

You huddle up under the blankets, ears ringing as you squeeze your eyes shut. There’s a long pause but Jungkook doesn’t come into the room.

“…Are you OK?”

You want to answer but you find you can’t. Your tongue feels glued to the roof of your mouth and a hard knot sits just behind your breastbone, stifling your breath.

After a long minute, you hear the maknae’s footsteps retreating from the door. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, turning over on your side to face the window. Snatches of the night before come back to you, clear as day even though they’re just fragments: Songhee’s worried face; your drunken walk through Gangnam; crying on Jungkook’s shoulder in the studio. It all seems like a total mess and it’s all you can do to stay calm when you realize you’re more or less trapped in this tiny bedroom.

You pull the covers up over your head and close your eyes again, praying for some kind of miracle to intercede. Maybe you can wait it out, you think – Yoongi can’t hang around forever and surely he’ll want to slink off now that he knows you’re in the dorm. You tell yourself you’ll slip out later; Jungkook will help you handle it and everything will be fine.

You’re on the verge of finally calming down when a quiet knock comes at the door.

You tense up, clearing your throat to croak out a reply.

“I’m fine, Kook – “

The words have barely left your mouth when you hear the doorknob turn. Irritated, you fling back the covers and roll over to look toward the door - but you freeze when you see Yoongi stood there instead of Jungkook.

He pauses just inside the threshold, a full glass of water in hand as his eyes fall on you. You’re filled with the urge to hide or bolt but there’s nowhere to go: Yoongi’s here, right in front of you, and now it’s impossible to look away.

His hair is longer, lighter than you remember – a shade of brown somewhere between ash and honey. His face is still achingly beautiful, all sharp angles and smooth planes even in the hazy light of Jungkook’s room. Yoongi closes the door behind him and it’s not until he takes a couple steps closer that you realize how thin and drawn he looks.

You spot the faint lilac shadows beneath his eyes and automatically start to worry: about how well he’s sleeping; if he’s staying up late to record or forgetting to make time for meals. The concern rushes in for only a moment – until you remember you don’t get to know those details of his life anymore.

Yoongi edges toward the bed, eyes flicking away from you as he comes near enough to set the glass of water on the table beside you. You draw the blankets back up to your chest and turn your gaze to the ceiling to keep from looking at him any longer.

Yoongi moves back a pace and lingers in the edge of your vision. He shoves his hands into the pocket of his sweats and there’s a long moment of quiet.

“Jungkook must have been really worried to bring you here.”

His voice threatens to set off a fresh torrent of emotion. You swallow hard but stay silent.

“Did something happen last night?”

Under the covers, your press your nails into the flesh of your palms. Yoongi waits quietly as you study the white paint on the ceiling.

“…Were you hurt?”

A strange feeling bubbles up in your chest and you’re unsure if you want to laugh or cry. Your voice loosens in your chest as you stifle both urges.

“I was drunk,” you answer – flatly, barely above a whisper. “That’s all.”

Yoongi draws a long breath through his nose and lets it out heavily. He shifts on his feet, head dropping forward as he looks at the ground.

“You have to be careful – ”

“I was.”

“Well – be more careful, then…”

He sounds exasperated, his words strangely clipped and suddenly you want to tell him to get out – to sit up and scream at him until he leaves you alone. To tell him he has no right to be frustrated with you.

Instead, you lie still and clench your jaw as silence stretches between you again. Yoongi scratches at the back of his neck and starts to angle his body toward the door – but then he pauses, the line of his shoulders stiff as he stills. You watch as he turns again and takes a few shuffling steps nearer, moving impossibly slow and careful before lowering himself to sit on the edge of Jungkook’s bed.

The mattress sinks under Yoongi’s weight where he settles by your feet. He’s sat as far away as possible but still so close – close enough to touch, you realize, if you reached out to him. You catch a soft hint of his familiar smell and tears well at the corners of your eyes as he sits and stares down between his feet. You let the beads of moisture gather and fall as you lay there, leaving wet tracks along your cheeks and temples.

"I'm sorry..."

Yoongi speaks the words so softly that at first you think you misheard him. He clears his throat and scratches at his ear.

"'S just...Jungkook said he found you by yourself. You were supposed to keep yourself safe," he says stiffly. "You said it...once. Said you'd be safe."

He falls quiet again. You tremble a bit as you try to hold in your breath and Yoongi’s jaw tightens. His hand twitches where it lies on the blanket beside him but otherwise he stays still. He doesn’t reach for you; he doesn’t even look over when you let out a quiet sniffle – the silence is almost unbearable but the fact that he’s here, only feet away is enough to hold on to. 

You trace the line of his profile, the image blurring in and out of focus as you blink away tears. He stares at the ground and you ache with the pull of a sudden memory, freshly dug up by Yoongi's words. 

“You never gave me another chance...”

Yoongi looks over at the soft sound of your voice, his dark eyes full of something – alarm or question, maybe, tinged with hope. His lips part.

“You never called me baby again,” you murmur, voice wavering as your throat tightens. “You were supposed to g-give me another chance, remember?”

Hurt flashes over his face – it’s brief but you just catch it before he looks away from you again. He gets to his feet, his expression hardening as he pushes a hand through his hair and clears his throat again.

“Please…try to be more careful when you go out.”

You press your lips together and trap a sob in your chest, eyes lingering on Yoongi’s back as he heads toward the door. He pauses again and you see him tug at the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You don’t know what could happen, you know,” he continues, half-turning to you with renewed irritation in his voice. He waves a hand in a vague, frustrated gesture. “Drunk, alone – you could’ve – you can’t just…”

You roll over to face away from him as he scolds you, setting your teeth against a fold of Jungkook’s blanket and ignoring the way your mind screams for you to make him stay. Yoongi’s voice trails off and a minute passes before you hear him open the door.

“Jungkook was really worried,” you hear him say from the doorway – his tone much softer than before. Yoongi pauses again. “I don’t like seeing him that way, so…”

If he finishes his sentence, you don't hear it. The door clicks shut behind him and you're left alone again.

Chapter Text

“Euuuuaaaaaaarrghhhhhhaahhhhh – “

Jin yawns deeply and raises his long arms above his head, eyes scrunched shut as his knuckles scrape the wall behind his pillow. He rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes before pushing the hair from his brow and smacking his lips. Sniffing a few times to clear his sinuses, he turns to look at his bedmate.

“What should we do today, hm?”

The RJ plushie remains silent, staring back at him with black button eyes. Jin scoffs quietly.

“Psh – you always say that…”

Jin throws back the comforter of his bed and gets to his feet to continue stretching. He rubs at his chest as he yawns again, jaw aching from how wide his mouth is hanging open. He kicks his way into a pair of fluffy slippers and hums a little tune to himself as he shuffles toward the door to the hall.

He's slept well lately – one of the perks of having a room to himself. For the first few nights that Yoongi wasn’t around, Jin was worried. He doesn’t worry much as a rule but the disappearance of his longtime roommate was out of the ordinary. Yoongi can be a bit aloof and he loves his alone time but he’s also loyal and straightforward. It’s the fact that he was clearly upset but packed off to his own apartment without saying anything about it – that’s what had Jin feeling so unsettled at first. He waited up for his roommate for almost a week but eventually got used to seeing Yoongi’s bed empty, the gear on his desk untouched.

Jin opens his bedroom door quietly. He sets one foot in the hallway and freezes – surprised to see a lone figure creeping toward the living room area, only a few yards away.

There’s no reason he should be seeing what he’s seeing right now – in the dorm, and at this hour – but the tangled mess of hair moving down the hall is unmistakable. Jin squints at your figure, confused until his eyes drift to land on Jungkook’s door and sees that it’s the only one standing open. His shoulders tense and his chest puffs up a bit as he watches you go – he’s protective of all his members and he has half a mind to call you out right here and now.

But Jin sets his jaw and stays quiet. If you’re here in the dorm, there must be a reason for it. It’s not like you scaled the wall of this luxury apartment complex and snuck in through a window…though that would have been pretty cool, he concedes with a wistful tilt of his head.

Jin is suspicious of you and hates what happened with Yoongi all those weeks ago…but he can’t shake the feeling that there’s still a part of the story missing.

He slips across the hall into the bathroom, closing the door as silently as possible to keep from drawing your attention. He won’t bother you – this time – but he doesn’t want to invite any other kind of interaction, either. Even a friendly one. He’d rather hop back in bed without incident so he can nap or play on his phone until the members are called to practice.

Jin takes his time with brushing his teeth. He skips a shower, figuring he’ll have to wash off after dance practice anyway. He meanders his way through his morning routine. Halfway through patting toner into his face, he hears a loud thud from down the hall.

He pauses for a second, fingers still pressed to his cheeks as his eyes dart to the door and he listens for any further noise. There’s only silence, though, so Jin shrugs and continues patting away.

Once his sunscreen is evenly applied he washes his hands and dries them on a towel. He opens the door and pokes his head out into the hallway, cautious in case he runs into you again.

Instead, he sees Jungkook: pressed up against his own bedroom door, face turned away from Jin as he flattens his palms to the smooth surface.

“…I swear I didn’t know!”

Jin catches the hushed, pressured sound of Jungkook’s voice and his eyebrows jump up toward his hairline. Jungkook turns his face in Jin’s direction, pressing his opposite ear against the door. His eyes are big and shiny and there are little wrinkles of worry etched across his forehead.

“Are you OK?”

Jungkook speaks again – to whomever is on the other side of the door, Jin assumes – but there’s no answer. The maknae lets his arms flop down by his side and he takes a step back, his head dropping toward his chest. He turns, dragging his feet slightly as he starts to head back toward the front of the dorm.

Jin follows, padding quickly up the hall in slippered-feet and silk pajamas.

“Hey,” he hisses, hurrying to catch up. “Jungkook-ah – “

He stops short just past the kitchen entrance, stuttering on his next words when he spots Yoongi in the living room.

The rapper stands in slides and sweats, his shoulders slumped. His face is turned toward the ground so Jin can’t see his expression but even so he can feel the tension in the room. If Jungkook looks dejected, Jin thinks, then Yoongi looks…well…dejected-er.

“She won’t talk to me,” the maknae sighs, clearly distressed. “Hyung…”

“What’s going on?”

Jungkook looks up at the sound of Jin’s voice but Yoongi doesn’t budge. The youngest member rakes a hand through his sleep-tousled hair.

“J-Jin-hyung,” he stammers. “Everything’s OK, it’s just – “

“Is that Y/N-ssi in your room?” Jin interjects.

“Yes – she spent the night,” Jungkook replies. “She – “

Jin’s brows pull together as the protective side of him flares back up again.

“She what??”

“No – n-no no – “

Jungkook waves both his hands, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily as Jin’s face starts to heat up.

“Jungkook-ah – “

“She just slept in my room!!” the maknae blurts. “Sh-she was at the office last night – when I stayed late to practice – I found her in a studio and she seemed lonely and like she needed a friend and we talked and then – “

“And then you brought her back here?” Jin cuts in again, his tone sharp even as he tries to keep his voice down. “For what – a slumber party?”

Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes and a little croak escapes from his throat as he tries and fails to start a sentence. Jin can tell he’s short-circuiting, so he bites his tongue and waits for the younger man to pull himself together.

Jungkook takes a deep breath

“She was by herself, and upset,” he explains earnestly. “We talked, and…and it really seemed like she needed to not be alone for the night.”

Yoongi shifts on his feet – it’s only a tiny movement, but Jin catches it out of the corner of his eye. The rapper rubs at his nose before shoving his hand back in his pocket. His eyes never leave the floor.

“I told Namjoon-hyung I was bringing her here,” Jungkook continues. “He said he was fine with it – “

“But did you stop to think if everyone else would be fine with it?”

Jungkook falls silent when Jin speaks. His chin dips toward his chest slightly but he keeps his eyes on the eldest member. Jin pauses, considering his words carefully.

“This is a shared living space. You have to remember respect for everyone’s boundaries,” he says evenly. After a few beats, he lifts a hand toward where Yoongi stands. “You know Yoongi-yah isn’t on good terms with her – “

“What do you care?”

Jungkook only murmurs the words – to himself, maybe – but Jin still hears. His eyes widen and he can feel the tips of his ears reddening.

“I – wh…what?”

Jin thinks he must have misheard him. The maknae lifts his head.

“You and Yoongi-hyung aren’t even speaking,” he says quietly. “You haven’t even asked him how he’s feeling.”

“Jungk – “

“And Y/N-ssi,” he presses. “You don’t know her at all. You don’t know what she’s been through.”

Jin blinks, taken aback and bordering on speechless. Jungkook looks back at him steadily, his dark eyes full of something bold and sad. Jin wants to scold the youngest member – but he also wants to hear what Jungkook seems to think he knows.

The room hangs in silence. Yoongi shuffles to the couch and drops down to sit with his elbows on his knees, his head cradled in his hands.

The movement shakes Jin out of his shock, enough for him to clear his throat before speaking again.

“Maybe that’s all true,” he starts. “But if you leave me out of it, you still know it wasn’t right to bring her here without clearing it with all the members. Staff could have found out. And Yoongi still lives here, even if…”

He trails off briefly, looking over toward his roommate. The rapper doesn’t look up – just sits there, folded in on himself.

“…Even if he’s needed some space lately. He still has a say in what goes on here.”

Jungkook’s shoulders sag. “I didn’t know he’d come back…”

Jin glances toward the front door and spots the duffel bag that Yoongi usually totes between here and his apartment. He slips his hands in his pockets, suddenly aware of a strangely tight feeling in his chest and throat.

“…Are you back, Yoongi?”

The rapper doesn’t look up at first and Jin worries that his question fell flat. But then Yoongi lifts his head slowly, revealing a pair of dull, tired eyes as he turns his gaze toward the other two members.

“…I guess.”

It’s not much of an answer, as far as answers go – but the words instantly put Jin at ease. He almost has to bite back a laugh when Yoongi spares a brief, bracket-shaped smile – it’s more of a grimace than a smile, really…but Jin’s glad to see it.

Before anyone else can speak, the sound of soft footsteps on the wood floor interrupts the moment and Namjoon materializes from the dim hallway.

Dressed in plaid flannel pajama pants, he already has a worried look on his face.

“Hey,” he says lowly, glancing between the members. “What’s happening out here – Kook?”

The maknae straightens up. “Uh – nothing, it’s OK – “

“Where’s Y/N-ah?”

“In his bedroom,” Jin supplies smoothly.

“Sh-she’s fine!! I think,” Jungkook says, flustered. “She just – well, Yoongi-hyung showed up, and – “

“He’s moving back in,” Jin adds.

“There was a little…ah – run-in – Y/N-ssi didn’t think he’d be here, you know – “

“You’re moving back in?” Namjoon asks, tilting his head to look at Yoongi.

The rapper doesn’t answer – he’s looking down at the floor again.

“Y/N-ssi’s in my room and I think – I think she’s mad at me and I know it’s my fault,” Jungkook groans. “This is my mess – I’m sorry – “

Jin clicks his tongue. “Oh, so you’ll say ‘sorry’ to Namjoon-ah but not to me??”

“I’m sorry to everyone!! I didn’t mean – “

“Are you staying, hyung?” Namjoon asks again.

“I’ll fix everything, I swear – “

“He may be the leader but I’m still the oldest here!”

“If I can get her out of my room, I can talk to her – “

“I get no respect,” Jin declares, shaking his head. “I raised you from when you were just a child and look how – “

Jin cuts his scolding short when Yoongi suddenly stands up from the couch. Wordlessly, he crosses the living room and the other three members watch as he moves toward the hall and bends over to pick up an empty cup lying by the baseboard.

Yoongi disappears into the kitchen and there’s the sound of running water. Jungkook glances at Namjoon; Namjoon looks over at Jin. Jin feels the urge to crack a joke but stuffs it down deep.

Namjoon clears his throat. “Hyung – “

Yoongi appears again, full glass of water in hand – but he doesn’t even acknowledge the members. He turns down the hall and they watch as he slowly makes his way to Jungkook’s door. He knocks twice; he reaches for the handle, pushes the door open and slips inside.

As soon as the door shuts behind Yoongi, another one opens further down the hall.

Jimin pops out from his room. His eyes are just two sleepy crescents and his hair sticks out in all different angles as he trudges toward the living room in his sock-feet.

“Wh…what’s going on?” he mumbles, rubbing one hand over his puffy face. “I thought I heard voices…”

Jungkook just hangs his head and scratches at his neck. Namjoon coughs quietly.

“Everything’s fine,” the leader says calmly. “We were just talking – you can go back to bed. There was a minor miscommunication earlier but – “

“Jungkook-ah brought Y/N-ssi here without telling the rest of us and let her sleep in his bed – Yoongi-yah showed up this morning and you can probably guess how well that went.”

Jin rattles it all off before Namjoon has a chance to stop him. Sometimes he enjoys a little chaos.

Jimin’s eyes go wide. “Y/N-ah – Y/N-ah is here??”

Namjoon huffs. “Hyung…”

“She’s in my room still,” Jungkook says miserably.

“With Yoongi-yah,” Jin clarifies.

Jimin splutters. Namjoon claps both hands to his head.

“I – that’s – that’s crazy,” Jimin breathes. He rubs at his chin and pauses. “I have to wake up Taehyungie – “

“Jimin-ah – no!!”

The members dissolve into bickering. Namjoon tries valiantly to block Jimin from running down the hall to wake up yet another member; Jimin whines and presses them all for more information. Jungkook bites at his nails, wide-eyed and anxious as he interjects here and there with random apologies and pleas for forgiveness. Jin mostly watches, content to let the scene unfold while he keeps one eye on Jungkook’s closed door.

It opens only a few minutes later, to everyone’s surprise – the members hush as soon as they hear the creak of the hinges. Jin takes a step out to the side so he can peer past Namjoon, just in time to see Yoongi turning up the hall again.

The hall is still shadowy, even though it’s getting to be mid-morning – Jin can’t quite make out Yoongi’s expression until he’s just a few feet away.

“Yoongi – “

Jimin pipes up first but Namjoon quickly hushes him. The rapper glances at the members anyway, the hurt on his face obvious and unchecked in a way that makes Jin’s stomach twist.

He’s used to a few basic variations of emotional display from his roommate: totally blank and unreadable; brooding and pensive; big gummy smile – those tend to be the presets. Jin saw Yoongi get angry that day when Namjoon sat them down to talk things out in the dorm – but he hasn’t seen Yoongi looking broken in a very, very long time.

Suddenly nervous, his feet carry him forward and he reaches for Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Hey – what happened?”

The words spill out automatically. Yoongi shakes his head and tries to cut wide around the members, dodging Jin’s hand.

Panicked, Jin goes for his elbow.

“Yoongi-yah – hey – “

“Hyung – “

Jin thinks Namjoon is talking to Yoongi again but then he feels someone tugging at the back of his shirt. The leader pulls Jin backward just as Yoongi twists away from him again, turning his face so it’s hidden from the others. Jin’s whole body feels hot.

“What happened??”

He says it louder, and there’s a nervous murmur from Jungkook – or Jimin, it’s hard to tell. Jin takes a step forward but feels Namjoon holding him back from going any further. He opens his mouth to speak again but the words evaporate on his tongue as he watches Yoongi wrench open the front door.

“Wait!”

A moment later, he’s gone. Jin rounds on Namjoon right away.

“Why didn’t you stop him??” he demands, voice hard. “Did you see his face?”

“Jin-hyung,” Jungkook says anxiously. “He – “

“I’m following him,” Jin says stiffly, pulling out of Namjoon’s hold. “I want to know what she did to him.”

Namjoon lets out a heavy breath. “Jin, don’t.”

“I want to know what she said – “

“It’s not her, hyung.”

Jungkook’s voice cuts through the others, firm and loud and surprising. Jin realizes his heart is pounding when he stills and stops talking long enough to focus his eyes on the maknae.

“It’s not…either of them,” he continues, a little awkwardly. “You’re not seeing the whole picture.”

Jin’s lost. Jungkook glances at Namjoon; the two hold each other’s gaze for a long moment until Namjoon nods. He turns to Jin with a strange expression on his face.

“Jin-hyung,” he says softly. “You know they’re crazy about each other, right?”

Jin bristles. He swallows hard.

“I – “

“I know you don’t trust her,” Namjoon presses. “I get it. But you have to trust Yoongi.”

“He can’t see straight when it comes to her,” Jin counters.

Annoyingly, both Jungkook and Namjoon smirk.

“No,” the leader chuckles. “He can’t…but not in the way you think.”

Jin’s head is spinning. He looks around at the other three members, lost for words again and irritated. He seems to be the only one confused at this point and it’s getting under his skin. He crosses his arms.

“What am I missing here?”

Namjoon sighs. “Ask your roommate, when he comes back…”

He nods toward the door, where Jin sees Yoongi’s duffel bag still sat on the ground.

“…Or just watch, and listen. You’ll see.”

Chapter Text

Your ears are ringing.

Everything sounds a bit muffled under the tinny hum as you hurry to keep up with the bulky man in front of you. He’s dressed in all black and you can’t tell if he’s security or management – either way, he seems to know where he’s going and you’re glad to have someone lead you away from the noise of the crowd.

The plastic badge around your neck swings at the end of its lanyard and taps gently against your torso with each step. You wrap your fingers around its edges, tilting it toward your face just long enough to make out Monsta X’s logo there before the man leads you through a tight cluster of other staff working backstage.

The venue isn’t so big – not by Bangtan standards, at least – but still you were shocked to see how many people came out for Jooheon and the other members. The longer you’ve known the members, the harder it’s become to imagine them as famous – to any degree. You were glad to be surprised by the crowd: if you’re honest, you spent half the performance watching the fans’ faces and reactions. The raw joy and excitement you saw there only reflected all the hard work you’d witnessed the members put in over the time you’d spent with them at Starship.

It was surprisingly easy to arrange your plans for the concert. Jooheon’s manager sent you tickets and a few details about getting backstage after the encore set; you took the night off from work and even set aside the next morning so you could have some extra time to rest. Knowing you were a little nervous to see the members, Songhee offered to go with you – but you were pretty adamant about doing it by yourself and for yourself.

During the week that passed between your night at the dorms and the concert, you took time to think about choices. You didn’t regret choosing to let Songhee in on what happened between you and Yoongi – it seemed like the healthiest choice you’d made in a while, even though the marathon of fresh misery that followed was hard to bear. You wondered how long you could carry those intense feelings and what you could do to lessen them in time.

Lying in Jungkook’s bed and watching Yoongi head for the door – that was a painful low you didn’t need, you decided. It played on loop in your head with a few other memories you wished you could forget: fleeing from the club in Gangnam; your argument with Namjoon; every sad minute you’d spent hiding from the world in your tiny apartment…each one produced a different shade of grief that you could have avoided, you realized – if only you’d made different choices.

You were lucky to slip away from the dorm without causing further chaos. You crept out of Jungkook’s room only when the silence in the apartment lasted long enough to convince you that all the members had left. You were relieved not to run into anyone on your way and by the time you got home, you knew you couldn’t keep counting on luck if you wanted your days to get any easier. You needed to change.

So you followed through on what you’d told Jooheon about catching one of his shows. You started writing in your planner again and made an effort to get more sleep. You asked Songhee to keep checking-in on you and cleared all the half-empty bottles of shitty wine from your fridge. You deleted your thread of texts with Yoongi.

They were all small choices but each one made the next feel a little easier. You started to think that getting back on your feet – feeling strong again – was actually possible, and the concert felt like the perfect way to celebrate that.

Backstage, a rush of nerves hits as soon as you hear the clamor of familiar sounds coming from one of the rooms off the main hall. Minhyuk’s bubbliing laugh cuts through a deep, booming voice – Shownu, probably – and sure enough the man ahead of you leads you right to the source.

You find the members spread out around a large dressing area, already clad in hoodies and sweats as they chatter and work on getting their makeup removed. Jooheon happens to be sitting closest to the door and spots you right away.

“Hey – you came!”

His greeting is loud enough to get the attention of the others. Before you can do more than raise your hand in an awkward wave, you’re swept into a tight hug by Minhyuk. The other members get up from their spots to drift toward you for their turn; Jooheon looks on with a grin and watches as each one meets you.

“We didn’t think you’d show…”

Changkyun’s familiar low drawl in your ear has you grinning as he circles his arms around your shoulders. You scoop your arms behind him to pat him awkwardly between his shoulder blades.

“That’s not true,” Minhyuk corrects loudly.

“Yeah - don’t listen to him,” Jooheon adds. “He’s been bugging me all week about it.”

“’Is she coming? Is she coming??’” Minhyuk imitates the maknae while just barely holding back a cackle.

Changkyun scoffs and releases you a little too quickly, arranging his face in a cool expression while the others laugh. Before he can get away you reach out a hand to pinch one of his cheeks.

“Did you miss me that much?”

He swats your hand away and clicks his tongue but you catch the way the tips of his ears turn pink before he slinks off, muttering to himself. Jooheon slaps him on the back as he goes before edging toward you, the smirk on his face starting to fade slightly as he meets your eye.

You feel suddenly awkward, hyper aware of the other eyes and ears in the room – and you’re guessing Jooheon feels it too, if his posture is any indication. His shoulders lift as he tucks his hands into his pockets and suddenly he looks like a little kid to you: nervous, unsure; the usual mischief in his eyes replaced by a questioning look. Your hands twitch with the reflex to hug him but the moment feels too strange, stilted for that kind of gesture.

You settle for giving him a smile – a real one, warm and honest and immediately you see relief melt into his features. His shoulders relax a bit and he drops back a step to let you further into the room.

“Come on,” he says warmly. “We wanna hear what you thought of the show…”

The members produce a folding chair for you and listen in as you give your feedback. You can tell they’re relieved to hear your praise, each one showing it in his own way. Shownu is all sheepish grins while Kihyun takes your admiration gracefully; Changkyun tries to act nonchalant but the members cheer and laugh when you describe the way the crowd around you reacted when he flashed his abs.

“All those late-night workouts paid off, huh?” you tease him.

He rolls his eyes. “I hated those…”

“You hated them??” Jooheon cries. He looks to you, wide-eyed. “Remember when he’d beat down my door and force us to touch his abs at three in the morning?”

An involuntary laugh bubbles up in your throat. “Oh, my God – I will literally never understand – “

“Feedback helps me stick to a routine,” Changkyun pouts quietly.

“Right. You just wanted to hang out with us.”

“Such a jealous dongsaeng,” you add, turning to wink at Jooheon.

The two of you giggle together, lost in the sudden memory until someone changes the subject and the members carry on with their chatter. Changkyun sits across from you, straddling a chair backwards and you happen to catch his eye as the others talk. He looks at Jooheon for a long moment before shifting his gaze to you; he lifts one eyebrow in question but you give a quick, discreet shake of your head.

You can only stay for a short time – the members are busy and their staff are even busier, so as soon as a couple of the managers appear you start to make your goodbyes. Minhyuk makes you promise to call him as soon as you get home.

“Won’t you be asleep already?” you ask as he crushes you against his chest one more time. “You must be exhausted.”

“Don’t care,” he says, voice muffled slightly as he turns his face into your hair. “I want to hear how you’re really doing.”

“Minnie, I’m – “

You stop yourself mid-reply, the automatic I’m fine catching somewhere in your throat. You promised Songhee – and yourself – that you’d try being more honest with your feelings. Minhyuk holds your shoulders and pulls back just enough to look you in the eye.

“I’m a little rough right now,” you whisper to your friend. “But I'm OK. I’ll fill you in later tonight?”

You give a final wave to the members and Jooheon follows you into the hall. He glances over his shoulder, making sure you’re alone before turning to meet your eye.

“Thank you for coming…”

You smile and reach to touch his arm. “Of course. I didn’t realize how much I missed everyone.”

Jooheon scratches at his ear and peers into the dressing room again. “I’m sorry if it felt rushed – there isn’t really a good place to talk here…and I think we’re loading the vans soon – “

“It’s fine,” you assure him. “Seriously. We’ll find time to talk, and…maybe just seeing each other was a good step, yeah?”

He nods once, his eyes somber. “Yeah. Thank you...for just seeing me. I don’t know if I deserved it, Y/N-ah...”

You pause for a moment, considering his words a while before shrugging. You tuck your hair behind your ears and take a breath.

“Well…maybe it’s not a matter of deserved or not,” you say quietly. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes and people have been kind to me – maybe even when I didn’t deserve it. But we’re friends, right?”

Jooheon smiles softly. “Right.”

You let your breath go. “So…that’s what matters for now. We’ll talk, and we’ll figure our shit out…OK?”

He nods, and again you feel the awkward tension as the two of you start to part. You’re not sure when you’ll see Jooheon again but still – you don’t want to rush whatever it is you have to work out between you. He slips back into the dressing area, leaving you feeling only a little sad until a staff member arrives to see you out.

“Communication has been smooth this month, so we’ve been able to make a good deal of progress…”

There’s a long pause in discussion while the interpreter rattles off the updates for everyone present in the meeting. Bang Sihyuk sits at the head of the table, as always; the conference room is full of staff from the production team and two songwriters from the States are on speakerphone. Sihyuk nods contemplatively as the interpreter wraps up.

“…And as soon as RM finishes his verse, we should be finished with these projects and ready to submit final drafts.”

It’s mid-morning and you’ve been anxious all week to report out on the songwriting team’s efforts. You haven’t been involved on all the projects going on for the new album – each track has a slightly different list of contributors with the main drive coming from Bangtan and the in-house production leadership – but still you feel like you’re revealing a piece of your own personal work. Writing still feels new and tricky and today you have the same kind of nerves you used to get when you first started showing your music to other people.

“We should have more than enough for a solid studio album,” Pdogg comments.

“There may still be cuts after recording,” Sihyuk replies. He turns in his chair to face the other producer while the interpreter murmurs away into the phone. “But it’s a strong tracklist so far. It’ll be hard to trim it down.”

Pdogg dips his head in agreement and Sihyuk catches your eye for a moment as he looks around the room.

“I look forward to reviewing the final edits,” he continues. “The members seem satisfied so far and I’m sure any necessary tweaks can be made easily during recording. Y/N-ssi can help us bridge any gaps there, as she has throughout this process.”

The interpreter catches up with Sihyuk’s comments and then one of the women on the phone speaks up. 

“Y/N’s been great,” she says, and you think you hear a smile in her voice. “Obviously she’s helpful with the language barrier – but she also just knew what the members were trying to convey in the early drafts and she made sure those intentions were preserved.”

You keep your expression neutral but you can’t help the warmth that comes to your ears and cheeks as you hear her feedback. A smile crosses Sihyuk’s face as he listens to the interpretation being fed back to him and you almost wish you could take a snapshot.

When the meeting wraps up, you linger afterward to chat with Pdogg. He finalized the sequencing of TXT’s mini-album last week and you’ve been hoping to pick his brain about it at some point.

“Find me toward the end of the day, if you’re still around,” he says easily as he heads out the door. He glances at you. “But don’t work too late – you did good work today.”

You leave the room feeling light – lighter than you have in many long weeks. Carefully edging around the stream of staff members moving through the hallway, you hug your bag against your side; a giddy feeling balloons in your chest and you think about texting Songhee. She’s the first person who’d want to hear about how good you feel in this moment.

Or maybe she’d be up for meeting you for lunch, you think – you could celebrate with something special and tell her about your morning. As you make your way down the hall you realize there’s a literal hop in your step and you try to tone it down – it’s hard, though; you feel like you might actually be putting off some kind of glow and you’re not mad about it. You smile to yourself and slip one hand into your pocket to get your phone.

“Y/N-ssi – “

You turn your head to right at the sudden sound of your name but find just the blank wall of the hallway.

You look to the left and startle a bit as soon as you spot Seokjin strolling just a step behind you, head tilted slightly as he waits to catch your attention.

“Just coming out of a meeting?”

Your footsteps slow and Jin moves alongside you to avoid bumping into your shoulder. He falls in step with your pace easily as you splutter.

“J-Jin - um – “

“Can I walk with you?”

Confused, you glance at his face a couple times before nodding and turning your gaze to focus on the ground in front of you. You feel the afterglow of the meeting start to fade as your mind spins.

Jin has never spoken much to you before now. You worked with him on English pronunciation for a bit, but out of the members of the vocal line – out of all the Bangtan members, actually – you spent the least amount of time with him. You found him hard to read in most situations: always confident and relaxed; always using formal language with you even though he carries himself with an air of nonchalance.

You’ve been avoiding all of the members these past few weeks - even before the disaster at the dorms. Your late-night conversation with Jungkook was an exception and aside from him, you aren’t sure where you stand with any of the members or how they feel about you. Since you don’t have a pre-existing relationship with Jin, he feels like even more of a mystery than the rest.

You clear your throat awkwardly.

“Is there something I can help you with, Seokjin-ssi?” 

He shakes his head and brushes his long dark fringe from his eyes.

“Nope.”

You pause, sure that he’s about to expand on his answer – but he just plods along with a mild look on his face, ambling slowly on his long legs so he doesn’t outpace you. You adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder and hide a frown as you head for the elevators.

Jin follows you onto the lift. He tucks himself into a corner of the compartment and folds his arms across his broad chest while you punch at the button for the lobby. Two men you recognize from the management team squeeze in before the doors slide shut and you’re relieved when they strike up a friendly conversation with the idol.

When the elevator settles on the ground floor, you prepare to step off and make for the front entrance – but Jin is glued to your side the second you set foot on the tile floor of the lobby.

“Should we get coffee?” he says quickly, stepping around you and squaring up so he’s blocking your escape route.

You peer around his form to eye the front doors. The busy street outside BigHit is just yards away.

“Um…I was going to head home, actually – I have some work to get done and – “

“Can it wait?”

You meet Jin’s eyes, dumbfounded as you search his expression for some kind of hint about what he’s up to.

“Seokjin…what - ?”

“I need to talk to you,” he presses, voice suddenly lowered. He pauses. “If you can give me just a few minutes…”

You let him lead you down to the café where he buys two tall glasses of iced coffee. You watch him carefully as he sets them down at a table in the furthest corner from the entrance; his face betrays nothing as he sheds his coat and drapes it over the back of his chair. Jin takes a seat and you follow suit, folding your legs carefully under the table as he glances around at the customers nearest to the two of you.

Jin clears his throat and sits forward, placing both elbows on the table. You stare at each other for a moment before he speaks.

“Y/N-ssi…you and I don’t really know each other, right?”

You take a careful sip of your coffee and nod slowly. “I would agree with that statement.”

“I know you’re close with Namjoon-ah,” he says quietly. “He talks about you as a friend. I don’t have that relationship with you, but…I have some things to say and I hope you can think of me as a friend while I say them.”

His words are making you more anxious – and curious – by the second but you try your best to keep your face neutral. A small cluster of staff members trail by your table and Jin waits until they’ve all shuffled off before speaking again.

“I saw you at the dorm last week.”

You freeze - horrified - hand still hovering by your glass where you just set it back down on the tabletop.

“I don’t totally understand what happened that day…Jungkook told me some, but I know there’s more to it,” he explains. “It’s not really my business – “

“Yeah, it’s not,” you confirm, suddenly tense. “Sorry, but – where are you going with this?”

He presses his lips together briefly. “Look – I’m not good with words. There’s no good way to start this conversation so I’m just gonna say it: I know you and Yoongi-yah were together – ”

 Your jaw drops in surprise.

“I don’t know in what way, or for how long…but the look on his face when he came out of Jungkook’s room the other week told me it must have been pretty serious,” he continues. He lets out a heavy breath. “I don’t know everything that happened with you two, but…I think I’m part of the reason you aren’t together now.”

“Excuse me??”

The words spill out suddenly, just as you’re starting to register the rising heat in your face. Jin quickly holds up both of his hands.

“I know – “

“I – y-you – what??”

You ball your hands into fists and find your hands shaking – whether from anger or shock, you’re not sure.

“Y/N-ssi – “

“Don’t say my name,” you snap, voice unsteady. “Actually, don’t say his name either – you’re really bringing this up in public?”

“I think you want to hear what I have to say about it.”

You clip out a short, humorless laugh. “I seriously doubt that – “

“Fine – I think you need to hear what I have to say,” Jin presses, his voice growing loud enough to cut you off.

There’s a pause as he holds your glare and waits to see if you’ll speak again. You lean forward, upper arms pressing against the edge of the table as you stare Jin down with narrowed eyes.

“You realize this is the last thing I want to be talking about, right?” you ask quietly. “Here, at my work, with you – ”

“Please.”

Jin says the word so solemnly that it takes you off guard. The tall man lays a hand on the table, close to where your glass of coffee sits. You watch the way he presses each fingertip against the laminated surface before looking back at his eyes.

“I know it sounds insane – and I have no right to ask you to do this, but…please just let me explain.”

You study his face for a long minute.

Statuesque and inscrutable as always, you can’t get a read on Seokjin – but something in the tone of his voice has you glued to your chair. You fold your arms and lean back, heartbeat still thudding away in your chest as you try to calm yourself enough to listen. You lift your chin in a gesture for him to go on.

Jin lets out a long breath and pushes a hand through his hair. He glances around the café before settling his gaze back on you.

“…Do you remember being eighteen years old?”

You arch an eyebrow, surprised by his question and skeptical.

Jin chuckles softly – almost sheepishly. He wraps both of his large hands around his coffee cup, slouching a bit in his chair.

“I started as a trainee when I was eighteen,” he says. “It was a crazy time…I walked away from the plan I’d had for my life and ended up here – with a bunch of kids to look after and a lot of choreo to learn.”

Jin smiles at the memory briefly and you try to picture him as a scrawny teenager.

“One of the first things the staff told us was how we’d have to give up our personal lives. I remember they brought it up at every meeting, it seemed like – always telling us about the sacrifices we’d have to make…if we were lucky enough for our hard work to pay off.”

You think of Heesoon, scolding Soobin in front of his members in the practice-room. The look on his face is clear in your memory but you have a hard time picturing Jin in his place.

Jin lets out a heavy breath, bordering on a sigh and shrugs his shoulders.

“I didn’t really know what they meant by all that – but it scared the shit out of me,” he continues. “I knew it meant we couldn’t date…and the thought that just having a relationship with someone could sink my whole career really got in my head. That it could sink the whole group…”

You glance at your coffee and run a thumb across the edge of the tabletop. Jin pauses a while and sips from his cup.

“Like I said – I was eighteen. I didn’t know anything. I thought the best way to avoid disaster was to make sure I never felt serious about anyone,” he explains. He smirks wryly and shakes his head. “It was pretty easy for me, honestly…still is. Maybe I forced myself to be this way, or maybe I was just built for it – for just hooking up…”

He falls quiet again. You glance up at him, studying his face before he meets your eye and pulls his hands into his lap.

“It’s easy for me to live that way. It’s safe. But not for Yoongi-yah.”

Your stomach dips at the sound of his name. You draw a slow breath through your nose to steady yourself as Jin keeps talking.

“It’s not how he’s built. If he lets someone in at all…there’s no going back for him,” he says evenly, still holding your gaze. “He’s also never one to fake anything or fool himself.”

“Hm...”

The little doubtful sound slips out unbidden, a reflex. Jin pauses and watches while you take a sip of coffee. He tilts his head slightly.

“…You don’t think so?”

You give a tiny shrug, suddenly unsure of what you’re objecting to. You stare at the ice melting in your cup as if you could divine the answer there.

“I don’t think I know him at all,” you say slowly. “I thought I did, for a time…”

Jin waits while you think. You run a fingernail back and forth across a warped spot in the table’s finish and sigh quietly.

“All I did was fool myself about Yoongi. I tried to keep him at a distance for so long – told myself I didn’t have feelings for him, when I obviously did.” You pause, smiling ruefully. “The whole time I think I counted on him to see through it…he always seemed sure about what he wanted, you know?”

Jin pauses. “You don’t think he was?”

“I think I pushed him away one too many times,” you answer, the words coming quicker to you now. “At the end, after we got caught - we got in this fight. He was angry with me – over things I didn’t tell him, stupid things that didn’t even matter – and…he just didn’t have any reason to trust me anymore.”

“Y/N-ah – “

“I walked away from this, Jin – we both said some shit but I was the one who walked away, and it took me awhile to realize why he didn’t stop me – “

“If Yoongi was angry with you, it was because of me,” he interjects. “That day you got found out – I brought up your relationship with Lee Jooheon. Yoongi was ready to defend you but I told him not to.”

Your mouth goes dry. Jin's words seem strange, out of place. There’s a burst of raucous laughter from across the café, where two of the baristas are gossiping behind the pastry case.

“You – what – ?”

“I knew about you and Jooheon-ssi because Changkyun and I are friends,” Jin explains, sounding almost miserable. “And that time I walked in on you fighting with Yeonjun-ah, in the practice-room…I thought there was something going on between the two of you. I brought it all up to Yoongi that night.”

Jin’s words seem scrambled in your mind, somehow wrong and out of order no many how many times you try to rearrange them. He rubs a hand over his face while you think back to your argument in the studio, replaying it for the thousandth time in your head and trying to understand the sequence of events.

A sick feeling stirs in your stomach and you shake your head.

“But…but he said knew about Jooheon before that – “

“Because of me,” Jin says quietly. “I’m the one who told the members about it. When you first came to BigHit.”

“And Y-Yeonjun,” you continue. Your voice sounds weak, bordering on confused though you can feel the anger roiling inside of you. “Why would you – “

“Because I thought I was doing the right thing,” Jin cuts you off, much louder than before. He leans forward. “I didn’t think it was serious between the two of you. I don’t know you, I didn’t want to see Yoongi get hurt and you seemed like a threat. I’ve seen things happen to the other members, and to other idols and – “

Jin pauses, looks around the café briefly. He chews at his bottom lip – a fidget that seems oddly out of character.

“...He’s my roommate, you know. And I’m his hyung…it would kill me to see it happen to him.”

Jin’s words fall quiet between the two of you. Suddenly he looks different, you think: sat across the table, he’s still impossibly handsome – but now somehow less imposing, softer. You catch a glimpse of Jin – free from his usual charm and swagger – and wonder how you never knew he and Yoongi were so close.

“I told Yoongi not to trust you,” he continues softly. “I thought it was the right thing to do, that I was protecting him…”

Jin meets your eye again.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, solemn. “I didn’t want him to get hurt, but…I made it worse in the end. For both of you.”

Your throat tightens and you have to look away from Jin, embarrassed and reeling and infuriated as you start to question how long you can keep up a strong front. You watch as a woman in a pantsuit two tables over dabs at a fresh coffee stain on her jacket, her face twisted in distress.

“I should have trusted Yoongi to know his own heart,” Jin says. “The others…Namjoon-ah and Jungkook-ah – they trusted him. They saw it right away.”

You swallow thickly. “Saw what?”

There’s a short stretch of silence as Jin pauses. You stare hard at the pattern of the woman’s suit.

“…It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

The woman stands up to leave and your eyes linger on the empty space left in her chair.

“It’s obvious that he loves you.”

The silence between you is interrupted only by the quiet roar of the equipment behind the café counter. The milk steamer hisses and you bite down on the inside of your cheek. Pain blooms there, sharp and welcome as you sit across from Jin. Moisture gathers along the waterline of your eye before cutting a warm track down your face.

“I didn’t see it until he moved back in the dorm,” Jin continues - in a gentle voice you've never heard him use. “He hasn’t been himself. I’ve seen him get sad before, but...now he isn’t working on music - not outside our regular schedule. He hasn’t worked on anything but this one song – I can hear it through his headphones when he plays it, and I can hear your voice. He plays it over and over sometimes, at night – like there’s something he can’t get quite right – “

“Why are you telling me this?”

You swipe at your face with shaky fingers before wrapping them around the cup of coffee in front of you. You focus on the cool of the glass against your palm as Jin watches your face.

“So the two of you can make things right,” he answers. “You have no reason to trust me, I know – and God knows I can’t tell Yoongi-yah what to do…but you should at least know all the facts.”

Suddenly your eyes feel dry, irritated. Jin looks at you like he’s waiting for an answer – but you find that you have no idea what to say, and no energy to think it through.

Drawing in a deep breath, you push your glass forward and stand up from your chair before leaning over to lift your bag from the tile floor.

“I have to go, Seokjin-ssi,” you say stiffly. “I have a lot of work to do, and…I have to go.”

He watches as you pull your phone out to check the time, eyes anxious.

“Y/N-ssi – ”

“I listened, OK?” you interrupt him. “You asked for a few minutes and I gave them to you. I have to move on now.”

There’s a sudden rush as the café floods with a flock of customers – a large meeting must have just let out somewhere. You turn from Jin and move against the rush of people, weaving in between their bodies to hide your face as you slip away.

The weekend comes grey but welcome.

The air hangs heavy outside the windows of your apartment, which you’ve drawn tightly shut against the deepening chill of the night. You’re spending your Saturday night cleaning and taking a much needed break from anything work-related. The excitement of the songwriting meeting wore off by the time the week dragged to a close and you realized you hadn’t taken a real, intentional day off in what feels like years. You were exhausted by Friday but still mustered the energy to follow through on your plan to hang out with Songhee.

She came by for dinner and the two of you shared stories over the stove as you took turns flipping jeon. Songhee was tired from work but had happy things to say about her latest date with Doyun. You didn’t want to spoil the mood by sharing what was on your mind, but you knew better than to try and bottle it all up.

Songhee listened while you told her about Jin. She already knew about all the aftermath of the night in Gangnam; as you talked through your meeting in the café, you could tell she was being careful not to react.

“…and then you just walked off?” she asked after you’d finished.

You shrugged, prodding at a pancake with your chopsticks.

“I didn’t know what else to do. I had to get out of there,” you explained. You took a deep breath. “Before I left, he told me…”

Songhee waited, watching you. The sound of the crackling hot oil filled the room.

“…What?”

You cleared your throat. “He s-said that Yoongi…”

The words wouldn’t come. Torn between wishing they were real and wishing Jin had never said them, you swallowed them back and decided maybe some parts of the story were better left for later. You gave Songhee a slightly apologetic look and shook your head.

“I just…I’m afraid of getting stuck again, Songhee,” you said quietly. She held out a plate while you lifted the fresh jeon from the oil. “I don’t know what to do with all the stuff Jin said – but I know I have to keep moving.”

She nodded, eyes never leaving your face as you sighed and reached for more batter.

You’d meant what you said – and you still mean it now as you scrub at the oil spattered across your stovetop. It’s near eleven o’clock and you’re just about done cleaning the kitchen; you realize you’re sweating as soon as you straighten up and drag a forearm across your brow. You toss the soiled sponge into the sink and give your stove a final wipe with a rag before heading off to change your clothes.

You’re still tugging a fresh t-shirt over your head when you catch the sound of a knock at your front door. Wiping your hands against the seat of your jeans, you shuffle off toward the entryway and check the peephole. The door makes a whiny creak when you ease it open moments later.

“Hey!”

You’re genuinely surprised to find Jooheon in your hallway. He’s in sweats, you’re relieved to see – even though the two of you used to be close you’re not super thrilled about being caught in your rattiest ripped jeans and an old pair of house slippers.

“Hey,” he says, a smile flickering across his face. “Is...this a bad time for me to be here?”

“No! Of course not, I’m just – I didn’t expect to see you – “

He rubs at the back of his neck and you spot apprehension in his eyes.

“I know it’s soon, but…we’re flying out tomorrow,” Jooheon says. “It’ll be awhile before we’re back – “

“It’s alright,” you say quickly. You step back from the threshold. “Seriously – come in and sit, yeah?”

Jooheon steps inside. As you close the door and watch him kick off his shoes, you flash back to the last time he appeared in your doorway. It feels like a lifetime ago that he showed up damp and drunk on your doorstep. You wonder if you still would have let him in if you’d known all the things that would happen that night…

“Can I get you water or anything?”

Jooheon shakes his head and waves you off before you can start toward the kitchen.

“Nah,” he says – still sounding a little apprehensive. “I won’t stay long – my manager is out front with the car, anyway…”

You follow him to the couch, where you both sit and lean against opposite arms. You curl your legs under yourself and turn your body toward Jooheon; he stays facing forward, elbows rested on his knees as he avoids fully settling into the cushions. You watch him rub at his knuckles.

“Nervous for the tour?” you ask lightly.

He glances up at you briefly. “Oh – no, not really. Excited, more than anything.”

“That’s good!!”

Jooheon nods and looks back toward the floor. He might look calm to anyone else but you know him well enough to read the small things his body betrays: the slight hunch of his shoulders; the way he nibbles at the inside of his upper lip…

“…But I’m guessing you didn’t come over here just to tell me that, huh?”

Jooheon smiles but it doesn’t really reach his eyes. You shift and cough to clear your throat a little.

“I know we said we’d figure our shit out but I gotta say – I didn't think it would feel this awkward – “

“Y/N…”

You sink into your seat on the couch and fall quiet. You can tell Jooheon is fighting off a smile until he rubs a hand over his face and takes a slow breath.

“All those weeks when we didn’t talk…they were awful,” he says carefully. “But they gave me time to think. My head was really messed up for a while. Even before…even before that night I came over here.”

You listen, resisting the urge to rush in and save him from the tension of the moment. Jooheon looks over at you.

“That night was horrible. I was horrible. I’m sorry – for how I acted, and for so many other things.”

You nod, throat tight. “I’m sorry, too.”

He shakes his head. “I know you tried to tell me – before, you gave me signs that you weren’t interested. That you wanted space from how we used to be. I don’t know why I didn’t see that…”

“I mean…I kind of gave you mixed signals,” you say quietly.

Jooheon’s eyes crease like he’s in discomfort. “No. Even if you did – that’s not an excuse for what I did when I came over here, Y/N. You know that, right?”

Sat across the couch from him, you feel small all of a sudden. You remember how you felt that night: confused, vulnerable; fearful and wary of someone you’d always looked to for safety and comfort. The memory only makes you feel sad now.

Jooheon exhales heavily and leans back against the cushions, looking tired. You both sit without saying anything for a while until he clears his throat quietly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” he says, lapsing into English. “I was a really shitty friend. I was so worried I was gonna lose you, and…I just missed what we had.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. The sadness in your chest turns strange and bittersweet and you don’t know whether to smile or cry.

“What we had was pretty good,” you murmur.

Jooheon hums quietly, looking down at his hands. “It was.”

“…I’m sorry I couldn't be more for you, Joo.”

He smiles ruefully and the sight makes your heart hurt – but only for a moment.

“What we had before was uncomplicated and fun, but…that doesn’t mean it was right for either of us,” Jooheon presses. He looks over at you again. “I didn’t have a right to push you for more when you’d already moved on…and I just hope I didn’t mess things up with whoever you moved on with.”

Surprised, your lips part but for a moment you’re without words. Jooheon watches as you swallow and try to regain your composure.

“…Minhyuk told you.”

He nods. You take a deep breath and look down at your hands.

“He didn’t say much – he was just guessing, really,” he explains. “Said he thought you were seeing someone new...maybe someone at BigHit…”

You trace the lines on one of your palms with the tip of a finger.

“…He said you looked happy.”

This time when tears blur the edges of your vision, you’re not surprised. They’re predictable – almost welcome. You blink the moisture away and linger with the sharp tug of emotion that comes when you let Jooheon’s words sink in. You let out a breath and feel your lips form the shape of a smile – a small one, but still a smile.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I think I was.”

“…But not anymore?”

The windows in your kitchen rattle slightly, buffeted by a sudden gust of wind. You sit still, arms wrapped around your middle, waiting for an honest answer to come to you.

“Maybe not right now, no,” you say slowly, after a long pause. “But I’m working on it.”

Jooheon watches you with soft eyes, his face somber until you show him a smile and you see the planes of his face relax.

The two of you sit together for a short while longer – sometimes talking, but mostly in silence – until his phone buzzes with texts from his manager. You walk Jooheon back to the hallway and this time you don’t feel awkward about parting with him – there’s none of the apprehension that came with saying goodbye backstage just days before.

“You’ll send me pictures from every show, right?” you ask.

Jooheon grins. “If I don’t, you know Minhyuk will.”

“I’ll catch up with you guys as soon as you’re back. And hey – “

He stands opposite you, just outside the threshold of your apartment. Jooheon gives you a small, questioning smile and a dimple starts to form in his cheek.

“…Thank you for showing up, Joo.”

He pauses, and then when he steps closer your arms lift automatically to pull him in for a hug.

You turn your cheek against the fabric of his jacket as he folds you in close. A knot takes shape in your throat when you realize how long it’s been since he’s held you – and how much has changed between you in that time. You let yourself relax in the relief that comes with the moment, the embrace just as strange as it is familiar. Jooheon lays a hand against your hair and you rest your weight against your friend.

Before either of you can speak, a soft ding breaks the silence.

You lift your head from Jooheon’s chest and the two of you look down the hall toward the sound. Your eyes land on the elevator doors just as they slide open to reveal a man dressed in a hat, facemask and a large black coat. 

Yoongi steps off the lift but goes no further, his feet settling in place as he turns his face in your direction. Even from this distance you recognize his eyes beneath the brim of his cap. You feel his gaze as it sweeps over you and Jooheon.

Your arms go slack, your hold around Jooheon’s waist suddenly weak as you stare down the hall.

“Y – “

You can only start to form his name before the sound dries up on your tongue.

There’s a pause and you notice you’re not breathing - and then Yoongi’s turning away.

The floor seems to tip beneath your feet as you watch him step back on to the elevator. His eyes are hidden from you now and you see his arm reach for the panel of buttons –

“Go.”

Jooheon gently pushes you from him and the sudden movement pulls your attention away. Dazed, you look at him but can’t decipher the expression on his face.

He gives you a shove, pushing you toward the other end of the hall.

“Go,” he repeats – louder, his voice firm but full of warmth. “I’ll lock up and get out of here.”

Breath fills your lungs. There’s so much you could say to Jooheon in this moment – but all you manage is a single nod before you turn, just in time to see the elevator doors sliding shut.

“Yoongi!!”

His name rips from your chest and your feet are already moving, the soles of your house shoes slapping against the carpet as you race toward the lift. You fly past the rows of apartment doors on either side of the hall.

“Wait – !“

The ragged sound of your voice fills the hall but doesn’t drown out the rumble of the elevator as it starts to move. You raise your arms in front of you and your palms smack against the metal doors as you crash into them.

Panting and shaken, you freeze as your mind spins – but only for a split second. You push off from the lift doors and head for the stairs.

Chapter Text

Yoongi startles as the bedroom door swings inward with a loud pow. Cheek smushed against his pillow, he groans and snuffles groggily to clear his nose.

“Jesus, hyung – “

Cursing loud enough for his roommate to hear, Yoongi tugs his comforter over his head and curls in on himself in the fuzzy darkness it provides.

“Get up, Yoongi-yah,” Jin sighs dramatically. He kicks his sandals off and sends them flying into the open closet.

“It’s Saturday morning…”

Jin plops down on the edge of his bed facing his roommate’s lump-shaped form. “No it’s not.”

Under the shroud of his blanket, Yoongi blinks.

“…it’s not?”

“It’s three o’clock in the afternoon. You were up all night again.”

Yoongi flails his limbs until he can thrash his way out of his sheets enough to sit upright. His hair is wild with static when he finally emerges looking flushed, his eyes still a little swollen with sleep.

“Are you serious??”

He looks around for his phone to check the time. Jin watches with a slightly bemused look on his face as Yoongi hangs half his body off the opposite side of the bed to search the floor.

“We have to leave for practice in fifteen minutes,” he says while Yoongi flops back on to the mattress and rubs at his eyes. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

Yoongi huffs and reaches to plug his phone in before rolling out of bed. He shuffles to his closet and tugs his rumpled t-shirt over his head.

“Anything in particular keeping you awake, Yoongi?”

“No,” he says stiffly, distracted. He tucks his thumbs under the band of his boxers and pauses to poke his head around the closet door. “…Are you just gonna sit there and watch me change?”

Jin scoffs but turns to lay out on the bed so he’s facing the ceiling. “Like I haven’t seen your skinny ass a thousand times already…”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and shucks off his bottoms. He doesn’t mean to be so prickly with Jin but he’s exhausted – the thought of going to practice fills him with dread and his limbs feel heavy as he pulls on a  fresh pair of sweats. He’s only just woken up but already he can’t wait to get home, shower, and close his eyes again.

Most of the members have been acting strange ever since he moved back into the dorm. Not strange in a bad way – more like they’re trying to be careful around him, gentle even. It’s a little unsettling, if Yoongi’s honest. He’s used to the dorm being loud and chaotic but lately it seems like any time he walks into a room, a weird hush falls over whatever conversation was going on before he showed up.

Tying the strings on his sweatpants, Yoongi lets out a quiet sigh – he’s not thrilled about dance practice but at least everyone will relax and act normal once they start moving around. He reaches for a hoodie to put on over his t-shirt

“I had coffee with Y/N-ah the other day.”

Yoongi freezes, one arm still extended into the closet. He’s not sure he heard correctly.

“…What?”

“Did I not tell you that?” Jin asks lightly. He hums to himself. “I can see why you liked her, you know.”

Yoongi slowly shuts the closet door and turns to face his roommate. He’s still laying flat on his back, hands tucked under his head as he gazes up at the ceiling.

“Hyung – “

“She’s stubborn – a little scary, even,” he continues, chuckling to himself. “Not the best when it comes to talking about feelings, but…that actually clocks too.”

Yoongi is shocked. Shocked that Jin apparently spent time with you, yes – but also thrown by the fact that he’s bringing it up so casually. Bristling, he crosses the room to grab his phone and charger from beside his bed.

“Glad you guys hung out,” he mutters, stuffing the gear into his backpack.

Jin pushes himself up and gets to his feet. Yoongi avoids his eye as he shrugs into his hoodie; he feels the beginnings of a familiar, sour gloom curdling in the pit of his belly and he hates it. He slings his bag over his shoulder and makes for the door but Jin steps in his path.

The taller man pins him with a pointed look – unable to hide, Yoongi stares blankly back. Then Jin shoves a pair of Yoongi’s sneakers against his chest.

Yoongi’s hands automatically come up to take the shoes. “Um…thanks – “

“She’s talking about moving on.”

Jin holds the sneakers in place, pressing them against Yoongi’s sternum. His eyebrows lift slightly and Yoongi’s mind scrambles for a response, his mouth suddenly gone dry. His fingers tighten around the rubber of the shoes’ heels.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Jin asks, his voice low.

He doesn’t. Yoongi doesn’t really know what Jin is saying or why he’s saying it – he’s still only just waking up and nothing is really computing in this moment. All he knows is that he’s tired and there’s a nasty sick feeling in his stomach and he’d really like this particular moment to end.

Despite all this, he shakes his head in a tiny nod.

Jin releases the shoes, leaving them in Yoongi’s hands. He slaps Yoongi on the arm and gives him a bright smile.

“Good. See you downstairs, then,” he chirps, turning to breeze out the door. “Last one in the van buys dinner!!”

Your feet move faster than is probably safe as you thunder down the stairs.

Living on the top floor is not paying off in this moment, you think as you leap past two steps to reach the second to last landing in the stairwell. Your cheap slippers squeak on the tile as you go. Heart pounding, you fly down the last flight and hurtle through the door into the lobby.

Your footsteps slow as your head swivels around to scan the space – but it’s completely empty. Your heart sinks but without missing a beat you speed up again and push past the two sets of outer doors.

Out on the street, you’re hit with a blast of wind. Your hair whips around your throat and face and you brush it out of the way to look around at the people passing up and down the sidewalk. Instead, your eyes land on a big black SUV idling on the other side of the street – the same make and model as the one you drove home from Yoongi’s apartment. You dash toward it.

“Hey!!”

You cry out when you’re only halfway across the street, moments before your hands slap flat against the driver’s side window as you skid to a stop. You whack your palm against the tinted glass until it starts to roll down.

“Hey, I – oh – “

As soon as a glimpse of cropped black hair comes into view, you realize it’s not Yoongi.

It’s Jooheon’s manager.

“Ah – sorry!! Sorry,” you say quickly, already backing away from the car.

He seems to recognize you but you’re still mortified. He pokes his head out the window as you scamper off.

“Yah!” he calls after you. “Is Jooheon-ssi coming down?”

“He’s on his way!!”

You screech over your shoulder without turning and make your way up the street, committing to one direction as you leave your apartment building behind. You head toward the busy street which crosses yours, hoping that somehow Yoongi is still in the area. You have to hope.

A man with a dark cap catches your eye once you reach the end of your block. You spot his head bobbing ahead of a cluster of college-age students, no more than thirty yards away as he steps into a crosswalk with a crowd of other pedestrians.

You take off, flying over the pavement as you watch the little walk indicator on the light across the intersection start to count down.

“Yoo – “

You cut yourself off, cursing once you realize you can’t exactly scream Yoongi’s name in public in the middle of a busy street. You speed up as the last pedestrian reaches the opposite end of the crosswalk and the light counts down from 4, to 3, to 2…

A hand wraps around your arm just as you’re about to launch yourself off the curb, grabbing you roughly and stopping you in your tracks. You swing around, winded, only to find an old woman hanging on to you.

“Are you crazy??” she scolds, glaring at you from under the brim of a big plastic visor.

The traffic starts up again as the lights change and cars rumble past in the street. The woman releases you and you stumble back from the curb.

“S-sorry, ahjumeoni,” you stutter, rubbing your arm. You make a short bow. “Thank you – “

She clicks her tongue as she shuffles off, mumbling something about foreigners and watching you closely like you might dart into traffic again. You clap both hands against your head, feeling slightly frantic as you scan around for a glimpse of the man in the dark cap.

Once the traffic is clear, you cross the street in the same direction you were headed – and as soon as you reach the other side, a drop of water hits your scalp.

You look up just in time for a raindrop to splatter against your cheek. People around you start opening up umbrellas. You hurry up the sidewalk as the anxious feeling in your chest deepens.

Weaving between the other pedestrians, you look everywhere for a sign of Yoongi. You peek into cafés and restaurants as you go and your heart races every time a black SUV rolls by – any small thing enough to give you hope. You scan the faces at every bus stop even though you have no reason to think Yoongi might be there. It’s dark, difficult to make out individual figures and faces even under the streetlights; doubt creeps in at every turn but you fend it off blindly.

Eventually the rain starts falling hard enough to soak the shoulders of your t-shirt. Water starts to pool at the curb and every inch of pavement takes on a disorienting wet gleam. Your toes are slippery in your house shoes when you duck into a coffee shop to pause and warm up.

You huddle near the entrance and push your fingers through your damp hair. It’s noisy inside, with a pop radio station playing over the sound of the customers. There’s a long line of people at the counter despite the late hour – you’re close to the Hongik University campus and you assume they’re all students. You realize you’re farther from your apartment than you thought and reach for your phone – only to remember you left it behind.

You’re not going to find Yoongi. The solidness of the realization sinks in as you shiver by the door, feeling suddenly alone and overwhelmed by the rush of adrenaline that brought you out here. You feel stupid – silly for even thinking you could track him down when he was probably gone before you even made it outside.

And what were you even planning to do if you found him? The question crosses your mind and your throat goes tight; you will yourself not to cry in public as you watch the rain pour down in grey sheets and think about the long walk home.

A familiar sound cuts through noise of the café and snags your attention: whistling, and a familiar melody – you catch a snippet of lyrics:

I recognized you at first sight

as if we were calling for each other –

“Are you FUCKING kidding me?!”

You can’t help it. You yell – in English, loud enough to turn many heads – as soon as you pick out the words to ‘DNA’ and a rush of frustration carries you back out into the night.

You plod home, tired and way past caring about the weather or the state of your clothes. Your slippers start to squelch with every step so you kick them off and shove them in a trash can. Your jeans hang heavy on your hips, the hems turning brown with grime as they drag on the wet pavement. The walk back feels twice as long and by the time you reach your apartment building, you want nothing more than to crawl in bed and hide.

Your fingers are stiff with cold as you punch in the code to the front door. The lobby is still empty and you’re grateful for it this time. You ride the elevator back to the top floor in silence, watching drops of water fall from the ends of your hair to darken the carpeting in tiny, perfect circles.

The lift opens onto your floor and a small amount of relief floods your veins. You take a couple steps out and pause as soon as you look down the hall.

A figure in dark clothing sits hunched outside your door, knees drawn up to their chest and arms crossed. You feel strange – a little dizzy – even before they turn to look in your direction.

You recognize Yoongi’s eyes like you did earlier – like you would no matter the distance or the day. His mask is gone and the sight of his pale face in the dim light of your hall seems familiar and surreal all at once – like déjà vu, or maybe the opposite.

He gets to his feet slowly and watches you make your way down the hall. His eyes trail over you and as you come to stand in front of him, he stares at your bare feet for a long moment. You shiver when his dark eyes raise to meet yours.

“…You’re soaked,” he says softly.

You watch the way the light plays off his irises as he blinks.

“’S raining,” is all you manage to reply for a moment. There’s a pause as you try to string together the first question in your heart.

“You’re…w-what are you doing here?”

Yoongi reaches up and pulls the cap from his head, running a hand through his hair where it was flattened down. You catch a glimpse of his brow and wonder how it still makes your chest feel too small for your heart.

He clears his throat quietly.

“I was waiting for you,” he says. His eyes drift over your shoulder, toward the elevators. “When I came earlier – “

Your mind flashes back to standing with Jooheon outside your door, the sound of the lift opening. Your cheeks burn suddenly.

“Yoongi, I – “

“It’s OK,” he presses, voice gentle even as he cuts you off. He waits for your eyes to focus on his. “I…I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I tried to find you,” you say quickly, heart pounding like you’re still running through Hongdae. “I didn’t – I saw you go, and I thought…I thought – “

Your words aren’t coming out right. You swallow hard, taking a breath to slow your mind and Yoongi rubs at the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I just took a walk around the block – “

Your eyes widen. “Seriously?”

A confused look flits across his face. “Yeah…?”

You almost want to laugh. Water continues to drip down your neck from your hair, running cold over your skin. You press a hand to your forehead.

“I wanted to give you space, that’s all,” Yoongi explains. “I came back right after, though – thought you’d still be here…”

You can hear the words he’s saying but they don’t feel real – none of this does. You fold your arms around your middle and watch the way Yoongi’s eyelids flutter as he looks down at the floor, his lips parted slightly.

“Y/N-ah,” he says quietly. “The last time we talked, I…”

His voice fades, leaving the two of you in silence. He raises a hand to tug at his ear before he tries again.

“I wanted...I – I didn’t – “

You hear the faltering in his voice and your stomach twists. Before you can speak up to save the moment, Yoongi lets out a quiet, wheezy laugh – surprising you. His fingers slip into the hair at the nape of his neck again and he coughs awkwardly.

“Ah – I didn’t really think this through, I guess,” he says. He looks up at you and the sheepish smile on his lips fades. “I didn’t think about what to say, I just…came here.”

You feel small, scared to respond and break the moment – but even more afraid of letting it slip by. Yoongi draws a deep breath and you see his shoulders straighten a bit.

“I’m sorry if my timing was off,” he continues. “I was at the dorm, and…I was thinking about you – about the last time I saw you – “

A part of you aches at the memory, but somehow it seems unimportant now. Yoongi keeps talking but all you can think of are the things you thought you’d never get to say to him – the things you couldn’t find the time or the courage to say before, and what might happen if you don’t say them now.

“I know I shouldn’t just show up like this…I thought about texting but I didn’t know if you’d answer me. I just kept thinking about how we left things – how I left things, that morning – at the dorms, and…ah…I know I’m not making sense, but I thought if I could see you and I could talk to you – if you would talk to me – then maybe I could leave things a different way, and – “

“That night in your studio.”

Your words are quiet but they cut into his, sudden as a thunderclap.

Yoongi stops mid-sentence and looks at you, frozen – his eyes round, almost cautious.

“…W-what – ?”

“That night…we drank Yamazaki and you told me I was bad at whistling.”

His eyes pan back and forth over your face and he swallows visibly. Your heart pounds and you will yourself to keep talking.

“You were wearing a black hoodie – the old one, with the rip in the cuff? The one you used to let me borrow…and your hair was still blonde then. You let me listen to a song from your mixtape and we slept on the couch…”

You squeeze your fists tight at your sides.

“That was it for me,” you murmur. “That morning – waking up next to you – everything was different.”

Yoongi’s head tilts slightly and you see his brows draw together, his face softening.

“Y/N-ah – “

“I never confessed about when I started having a crush on you,” you continue. A smile ghosts over your face and you have to hold back a laugh. “You asked, but…I was stupid. Stupid and scared – I was scared to f-fall for you, but too blind to see that I already had. Fell for you every second after that night – still falling for you – “

The words are finally starting to flow when Yoongi reaches for you, fingers catching strands of your hair as they cup your face to pull you near.

Your eyes slip shut before his lips find yours, bracing yourself against the relief and hope and ache that floods your veins like a tide rushing in. His mouth is soft and the softness feels like a miracle. You can barely find the force to kiss him back – you gasp quietly against him, chin quivering for a moment as you try to fill your lungs.

He brushes his thumb across your cheekbone, letting your lips part slightly as a shiver prickles over your skin. You lean forward to chase his mouth, leaving him only enough space to slip a single word between you.

“Baby – “

Your heart sings at the sound of his soft murmur. Yoongi steps in closer toward you and seals his lips over yours, silencing the shudder of your breath and all that’s left is warmth.

You lean into him and your fingers slip beneath his coat, automatically searching for the solidness of his body – something to anchor yourself to. Something to make this feel real. Your palms mold carefully to the shape of his chest and Yoongi’s fingers tighten where he cradles your face, pulling you deeper into his kiss for a moment before drawing back.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, voice low and shaky as he waits for you to look in his eyes. “For letting you go – for everything – “

“Yoongi, it’s – “

“No,” he says quickly. “Y/N-ah – I came here because I can’t stop thinking about you. Still. I came and I saw you with Jooheon and I didn’t mean to make you chase me – I…I just wanted to give you time. Because I know he’s your friend – chosen family, right? “

You feel like your chest could crack open, the sweet rush of regret and release is so strong. Yoongi curses under his breath and pulls you close to press his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you,” he murmurs, and this time tears prick at the back of your eyes. “I didn’t…I don’t want things to be like this. I don’t – “

You slide your hands from his chest to his neck and silence him with a kiss, too impatient to let him finish while the weight of so many things unsaid still crushing your heart. Yoongi makes a soft noise against your lips and wraps his arms around your waist to pull you tight to him. Your fingers find their way into his hair and your belly dips with a forgotten kind of rush when he lifts you just high enough to take your feet off the ground.

The snugness of his grip and the taste of his mouth make you breathless, high off the way he floods all your senses. It’s not until your feet touch the ground again that you remember you’re still stood in your hallway.

You part at the same time and it takes all the strength you have to catch your breath instead of pulling him close again. Yoongi clears his throat.

“We should…um – should we go inside?”

You nod in response; there’s a slight pause and then you both let out an awkward, quiet laugh at the sudden tension of the moment. He lets you step back and you tuck your hair behind your ears before bending down toward the mat outside your front door.

“There should be a key under – ow!”

Yoongi stoops at the same time, grabbing for his cap that fell to the floor at some point – his head knocks against yours and you both swear at the sudden impact.

“Shit – sorry!!“

He holds his head with one hand while reaching for yours with the other. His fingers cover yours where you’re rubbing at a spot just above your temple.

“It’s fine,” you say, wincing slightly while you pluck your extra key from under the doormat. “Really – “

“Are you OK??”

“I’m OK…”

Yoongi helps you to your feet and you meet eyes as you move to unlock the door. As soon as you look at each other, a much louder giggle slips out of you and Yoongi’s shoulders start to bounce as he laughs with you. His eyes crease deeply and he looks off down the hall as a sweet, toothy grin opens on his face.

“This is not going the way I imagined it,” he mutters to you.

You’re so distracted by the sight of his smile that it takes you longer than usual to open to open your front door. You peer at him over your shoulder while you fight with the lock.

“Have you imagined this before?” you ask, a little breathless still.

He smirks, and you actually have to force yourself to look away again. You’ll never get inside at this rate.

“What – have I imagined showing up randomly at your front door in the middle of a rainy night?”

The lock clicks and you finally get the door open. You push it inward and then you feel Yoongi’s hands on your waist.

You pause, only halfway through the doorway when he steps in close behind you.

“I’ve thought about it,” he finishes, his lips near enough for the words to warm the shell of your ear. “More times than I can count…”

Your keys thud to the floor and you turn to him. He pushes the door shut and reaches for you again and you let him, heart caught in your throat as he swiftly picks you up and moves you to sit on the small table in the entrance way. You let him step between your knees and warmth explodes in your belly when his lips find yours again – his kiss firmer this time, hungrier. Sudden want lights through your veins and you can’t help the way your fingers twist in the fabric of his t-shirt. He sighs quietly when you start to open your mouth for him; he tastes like mint and something sweet – something familiar and you’re starving, desperate to drink him in –

Yoongi shrugs his coat off and the sound of it hitting the floor reaches your ears. His hands cup your face and even through the sweetness of his kiss, a tiny bud of apprehension blooms in your chest. Your muscles stiffen slightly.

Moving suddenly – before you start to overanalyze it – you gently wrap your hands around Yoongi’s wrists. You dip your head to break the kiss and find yourself out of breath when you go to speak.

“Yoongi – I think…”

You pause, and even though your head’s still cloudy you suddenly think of Songhee – about words she’s said to you before. You think about your heart, and all the ways you promised yourself you’d take better care of it…

You look at Yoongi and find him already searching your face.

“…I, um – I think I want to talk some more, maybe…before…”

He waits a few beats for you to finish – and when you don’t, he takes your hands in his.

“Yeah – OK,” he says quickly. His voice is warm and sure and relief spreads through your body when he presses a kiss to one of your palms. “Of course we can do that. We can talk more.”

He squeezes your hands and you let out a breath.

“I want to do this right,”  you say – maybe more to yourself, than to him. You look down at your knees. “And I think…I think maybe we should talk to the members – or…or j-just Namjoon – “

“Really?”

You look up at Yoongi and you’re surprised to find his eyes bright, hopeful. You nod.

Yoongi wraps his arms around you again, pulling you in close so he can rest his chin on top of your head. You lean your cheek against his chest and draw a deep breath as fresh ease melts the tension in your body. He holds you until you relax enough to start shivering slightly.

“You must be freezing,” Yoongi says after a while. He rubs his hands up and down your arms as he steps back a little ways. “I forgot you were out in the rain – “

“So did I...“

He moves so you can slide off the table, one hand still lingering on your waist as you start to gather your bearings again. Your wet clothes are heavy and cold against your skin.

“I should probably go shower,” you say, tilting your head toward the direction of the hall. “I’ll just warm up and change…OK?”

“Yeah – go,” he answers softly. “I’ll wait out here.”

You give him a small smile and Yoongi matches it, leaning in to brush his lips against your forehead before you start to shuffle off. Before you reach the end of the hall you steal a glance in his direction and spot him settling on to the couch.

Alone in your bathroom, you turn on the water and undress while you wait for it to warm up. Jitters are still coursing through you when you step under the hot spray of your showerhead and let out a sigh of relief. You let the water warm your skin, turning so it soaks into your scalp and loosens the knots half-dried in your hair. You draw in deep breaths, letting your lungs fill with steam as you try and relax.

Despite the comfort of the shower, your mind whirs away. Excitement prickles just beneath your skin – along with disbelief, and a shade of worry you can’t seem to shake. Yoongi’s appearance was so unexpected, you think, and it makes sense that you’re a little shaken. You close your eyes and try to picture him spread out on your couch, cozy and relaxed as he waits for you to come back to him…

…But the more you try to imagine him, the more you feel a nervous kind of flutter in your chest.

You think about how suddenly he showed up – how you melted as soon as he touched you. Suddenly he feel strangely far away even though you know he’s sat in your living room, his nearness both fragile and fresh.

Water drips all over the floor as you step out of the shower. You reach for a towel and wrap it around your body. You can feel your pulse is quick as you cross the bathroom in careful steps, driven by a strange sense of urgency as you reach for the doorhandle.

You draw open the door and find Yoongi on the other side of it – stood in the hall, his eyes a little wide as he stares back at you. Tendrils of steam slip into the hall and you look at one another.

Yoongi’s mouth opens slightly.

“I…”

You watch as whatever he was about to say fades. After waiting for a few short beats, you reach for his hand and pull him across the threshold.

Yoongi’s fingers fumble with his belt as you tug at his shirt.

“You’re sure this is OK?” he murmurs.

You make room for him to take his shirt up and over his head. “I’m sure – we can still wait and talk…right?”

“Yeah,” he nods, shoving his pants down over his narrow hips to kick them down his legs. You try to hold his eyes as his boxers follow. “Just don’t wanna be away from you – not yet – ”

You open your towel and let it fall; you hear Yoongi inhale sharply and then he’s got his arms around you again, walking you backward into the steam of the shower.

***

His body is just as you remember – lithe, strong, beautiful – and yet it seems totally new at the same time. He’s skinnier, you realize; there’s less give beneath your fingertips as you touch him and the lines of his body seem sharper, more defined. You keep your hands on his chest as he dips his head under the water to wet his hair, pushing it back from his brow before pulls you in close.

It’s hard to focus on anything other than his touch while you go through the motions of washing your hair. Yoongi hovers close to you, silent even as he helps you rinse the last of the lather from your scalp; when he finishes you turn to face the water and lean back against him, closing your eyes as his fingers skim your stomach. His body is warm, firm behind you and you try not to tremble as he fits his palm to the flat of your abdomen, just below your breasts. You reach behind you and rest your fingertips against his thigh, pressing only enough to ground yourself there.

Yoongi holds you tight to him as he lowers his head to trace the line of your shoulder with his lips. You feel his tongue press there, catching the rivulets of water on your skin and the white noise of the shower hides the shaky breath you let loose. The heat of his mouth stands out even against the warmth of the water; hovering on the edge of action, you somehow manage to stay still as his hands shift again.

Your breasts feel heavy cupped in Yoongi’s hands. The pads of his thumbs brush your nipples, making them tighten and sending a spray of goosebumps across your flesh. You squeeze his thigh to steady yourself as he tilts his head and presses a long kiss to the back of your neck. The spray of the shower pelts across your chest while Yoongi’s length presses against you from behind – you can feel him there, hard against the soft curve of your ass as every part of you hums with need.

You turn and Yoongi moves to press your back against the wall of the shower before dipping his head to claim your mouth. You shiver at the touch of vinyl against your shoulder blades, cold in contrast to the heat of his body as he cages you in. You swallow the soft sound he makes as he coaxes your mouth open and slides his tongue against yours – suspended between want and restraint, you grip his waist with shaky hands. Yoongi’s body is taut where it lays against you and he only stiffens further when you reach down and cup your hand around his cock.

His breath catches and he breaks the kiss, sounding almost winded as he presses his forehead against yours for a moment. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes and you hold his gaze as you gently stroke your fingers over the soft skin of his length, hungry to feel its warmth and weight in your palm. You press him against your abdomen and his hips buck forward slightly.

Yoongi cups your jaw and runs his thumb across your bottom lip and his brows draw together slightly as you explore him. You brush your fingers along the head of his cock and your breath mingles with his as he lets out a quiet moan; he leans into your touch, pressing himself tighter to you and you ache at the way his slick smears across your belly.

“Need – “

The word falls from his lips, sweet like he’s begging. You loosen your fingers around him while he draws a breath.

“Need to stop,” Yoongi finishes. “’M sorry…”

You move your hands back to his waist, reeling and flushed as you let him step back to put a few inches of space between you.

“Don’t be,” you breathe. “It’s OK – I shouldn't have pushed…”

He shakes his head a bit and pulls you off the shower wall so you’re both stood in the stream of hot water. Steam licks across your skin as you touch your fingers to his face, searching his expression for a sign of what to do next. Yoongi gazes back, his lashes stuck together in tiny, wet triangles where they frame the warm dark of his eyes. You touch a fingertip to the scoop of his cupid’s bow to brush away a bead of moisture there.

“Can you stay with me tonight?”

Yoongi catches your hand to press your palm against his cheek.

“Of course,” he says softly, and right away you feel your pulse start to calm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

***

An hour later, you’re still awake.

The lamp on your bedside table is still lit, washing your blankets in warm light. Your hair is starting to dry and you’re finally cozy where you lay bundled in Yoongi’s old hoodie – the one you’d held on to for so many weeks, even after he’d faded from your daily life.

“Have you had that this whole time?” Yoongi asked when you pulled it from the back of your closet.

You looked over at where he sat on the edge of your bed, dressed in his boxers as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. He shook his wet fringe from his eyes and you smiled.

“Yeah,” you answered, holding the sweatshirt close to your chest. “I couldn’t look at it for a while…but I couldn’t bring myself to give it back, either.”

Yoongi watched as you slipped it on. The sleeves fell past your fingertips; you crossed the room and Yoongi reached out to help you push the cuffs back to free your hands.

“I’m glad you kept it,” he murmured. He held your wrist until you strayed close enough to stand between his knees. “Suits you better, anyway.”

Now Yoongi is stretched out beside you, half his face carved in the lamplight while you talk in low voices. His hair is fluffy against the pillow under his head and every now and then you reach up to gently move a piece back from his forehead. It’s late, and the rainstorm hasn’t let up outside; you’re tired but still too high on Yoongi’s presence in your bed to let yourself drift to sleep.

A hush falls between you as your conversation wanders later into the night. Yoongi nudges his head closer to yours, his eyes tracing the shape of your hands where they lie tangled between you.

"Princess..."

The sound of your nickname puts a curl of softness in your chest, the comforting feeling blossoming until your cheeks warm. You look at Yoongi.

“…I don’t want you to be scared to fall for me.”

His voice comes so soft, his lips barely moving, that you almost miss it in the quiet lull of rain pattering against your bedroom window. You study his face, reaching out to gently smooth the line of worry between his brows with a fingertip.

“You’re an idol,” you say quietly. You trace your finger across the curve of his cheekbone. “You know that’s scary for me to think about, right?”

Yoongi’s eyes search yours for a long moment. “Yes, but…it’s still me. You don’t have to fall for who I am onstage.”

“I know,” you reply, starting to smile. “I don’t think I get to choose, though. If I’m with you, I’m with all of you…but I can’t exactly go around calling BTS Suga my boyfriend.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows lift at that, and right away you wish you could take back what you said. He props himself up on one elbow as one side of his mouth curves into a slow smile.

“Do you want to call me your boyfriend?”

Mortified, you press your lips together and turn to your other side to hide your face from him. Your cheeks heat up and you’re about to pull the blankets over your head when Yoongi reaches for you.

“Hey, no – that came out wrong,” he rushes out, warm fingers cupping your upper arm as he half turns you back toward him. “Y/N-ah – “

Yoongi scoots closer and leans over you until you can see the softness in his eyes. He slides one hand along your cheek to keep your face turned to his.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “Look – I know my life isn’t normal enough to give you the whole experience...but I want this. I want to keep this – as long as I can, and I don’t care what you call me – boyfriend, lover…whatever feels right, I don’t care. As long as I can be with you like this, it doesn’t matter.”

Flushed for a different reason now, you stare back at Yoongi until the look in his eyes coaxes a shy smile out of you. His expression softens further and he brushes his thumb over the hair at your temple. You shift to angle yourself a little closer to him.

“…What will you call me?”

Yoongi lowers his head until his lips barely skim yours. The rain quiets outside.

“Mine,” he answers quietly. “I’ll call you mine.”