dinoyoongi @dinoyoongi - Tumblr Blog

Oct 28, 2021

Darkest Day

Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Yoongi doesn't like pokemon, doesn't want one, doesn't care to be around them. What happens when he finds an abandoned pokemon during one of the hardest weeks of his year? Can you help him through it? Genre: Pokemon Trainer AU, fluff, angst Word Count: 8,549 Rating: T Warnings: None

Notes: This is for The BTS Writers' Club October prompt, Spooky.

Thanks to @eatjeanjin and @moon-write for reading over this for me, and thanks to @foxbroart for the crazy awesome banner.

You called it Yoongi’s Darkest Day, but it was more like a week.

He’d hide himself away from the world. He wouldn’t call. He wouldn’t text. If he left his house, it was always entirely alone. He’d made it clear a long time ago that he didn’t want you around for that week. He wanted to be alone, to go through it alone, to feel his feelings and process his emotions and come out of it on the other side alone.

And you hated it, but you understood. He knew you were there if he needed you. And part of you, every year, hoped he would call you, hoped that he would admit that going through it alone was unhealthy. You hoped he would finally let you be there for him in the way you knew he wanted but was too stubborn and hurt to recognize. But you never pushed. You let him hide away for as long as he needed.

You didn’t even really know what prompted the Darkest Day. You’d heard rumors. People talked about how anti-social Yoongi was, how he was rude, and cold, and stoic. They said that his disappearance every year was nefarious, or that it was him going off to be a part of some murder cult, or that he had some secret family somewhere far away. But you didn’t believe them. You knew Yoongi--the real Yoongi. You knew that he was just quiet and preferred to listen. You knew that he cared a lot, but that he had no patience for mean-spirited people. So you knew he had to have a good reason to disappear for a week at a time.

He just wasn’t ready to tell you. Maybe he’d never be ready to tell you. But you were determined to be there if and when he was ready to talk.

So it was startling when your phone rang two days into the Darkest Day. And yeah, you were a little nervous because what if something terrible had happened? But you answered your phone anyway, not expecting to be sneaking around the weird alley of the train station with him not even 20 minutes after his call.

But how could you say no to him? You’d been waiting for literal years for him to ask you for help, and here it was, unconventional though it may be.

Yoongi carried the paper bag of pokemon food he’d asked you to bring. You were confused, but you followed him anyway.

“What are we looking for?” you asked softly, following him closely down the alley.

The buildings were close together, the alley barely wide enough for four people to pass through comfortably. It was surprisingly dark in the alley, despite the fact that it was mid-afternoon and the sky was a clear blue. You didn’t like the feeling the alley gave you, so you stayed close to Yoongi.

He shushed you. “He should be around here somewhere.”

“Yoongi.” You stopped walking, annoyed, and grabbed his arm. “Who?”

He sighed, pushing his box-dyed grey hair off his forehead. He looked exhausted, and you could see an unknown emotion swirling in his eyes. “I was here yesterday and I saw this Gengar sitting outside on the steps by itself. I asked around, and the guy at the cafe across the street said that it used to come here with its trainer, but he said he hasn’t seen the trainer in weeks. I guess the Gengar keeps coming back to wait for its trainer.” Yoongi frowned. “It drifted over to the cafe this morning when I was over there. It looked hungry. But it got scared by a truck and floated off.”

You hummed. Weird. Normally, Yoongi hated pokemon. Hate was maybe a strong word for it, but he had a general dislike of them. He never tried to catch a pokemon of his own, and actively went out of his way to avoid the wild monsters that wandered through the city. He didn’t even like your Nickit, despite the fact that the fox pokemon was sweet, if not a little sassy.

So it was a little strange--okay, a lot strange--that he was going to such an effort to find this random, trainerless Gengar.

He took your hand as you continued to walk, your fingers loose in his grip. His eyes silently searched the alley for any signs of the abandoned Gengar--a too-dark shadow, unexplained movement, a trash can with eyes.

“Guess it’s not here,” Yoongi said after you’d searched the length of the alley twice. You couldn’t believe it, but he actually sounded sad.

“Maybe it went home.” You doubted your own words, but you were trying to stay positive for his sake.

“Maybe.” He sounded sad and dejected. He squeezed your fingertips lightly. You hadn’t realized that he was still holding your hand.

You took a few steps out of the alley, your free hand coming up to shield your eyes from the sudden sun, when you heard a hiss and a clatter from behind you. Yoongi spun around, his hand dropping yours. When you looked, it seemed as though the wall of the train station had some sort of bulge, a large shadow growing and emerging from the bricks.

Beside you, Yoongi scoffed. “There you are,” he chided. His tone was gentle, caring even. Who was this man and what had he done to your best friend?

Yoongi approached the shadow as it fully emerged, a large purple blob plopping unceremoniously onto the ground. It watched Yoongi, its sharp red eyes focused on his movements. But when Yoongi was within a foot of where it sat, the Gengar dissolved into the shadows on the pavement below.

Sighing, Yoongi sat on the ground, opening up the paper bag and pulling out the container of food you had brought. You weren’t sure if ghost types had a preference, but your Nickit liked it, so you figured it couldn’t be too bad. When he opened the container, Yoongi sniffed and almost gagged.

“Yum,” he said dryly, placing the food on the ground and cautiously sliding it toward the shadow on the pavement. “Here. Eat.”

Always so graceful with his words.

You sat beside him, trying not to think of how many people have thrown up in the alley. Yoongi shifted, his knee touching yours. Despite the calm front he was putting up, you could sense the tension in how he was sitting, how he held his shoulders, how he unconsciously chewed the skin on the side of his thumb. You reached over and gently tugged his hand away from his mouth, interlocking your fingers with his to prevent him from continuing to bite his cuticles.

Silence enveloped you as you sat there, waiting for the Gengar to come out of hiding again. Thankfully, you had no plans for the rest of the day, although if you did, you would have gladly cancelled them. Yoongi’s appearance worried you--the dark circles and disheveled hair and rumpled, baggy clothes--and though he was hyper-focused on the Gengar, you wanted to be there for him. So you sat there in complete silence, your thumb rubbing small circles into the soft skin of Yoongi’s hand.

You weren’t sure how long it took, but eventually, the shadow in front of you started to swirl and bulge, two dark spikes beginning to emerge from the ground. When the Gengar was fully emerged, it eyed the container of food warily.

“Go ahead,” Yoongi coaxed, gesturing to the food. He offered the pokemon a soft smile, his catlike eyes crinkling with the action.

The Gengar watched Yoongi carefully, its red eyes following every subtle movement. Now that it was sitting in front of you, fully emerged, you were able to really look at the pokemon. It was small--smaller than normal--and Yoongi was right. It was less round than a Gengar normally should be. You wondered if it had been eating at all since its trainer disappeared.

Finally, the pokemon reached forward, eyes never leaving you and Yoongi. But it grabbed a piece of the pokemon food out of the container, slowly bringing it up to its mouth. It watched you as it chewed, slowly but surely eating through the food you had brought.

For the rest of Yoongi’s Darkest Day and a few days after, it became part of your routine to meet Yoongi at the train station. You would bring a container of pokemon food--after the second day, you made it a point to actually buy something specifically for ghost and poison types--and you and Yoongi would walk around in an attempt to find the Gengar.

It took a few days of searching for it, but eventually, the Gengar would be sitting on the steps of the train station waiting for the two of you to show up. It would hide in the shadows of the steps, waiting and watching but still scared of the strangers hurrying about their days. But it would emerge as soon as it saw Yoongi, its red eyes following his movements almost exclusively. It didn’t seem to care that you were there. It trusted you enough to not hide from you, sure, but it seemed to latch onto Yoongi exclusively.

Perhaps it sensed your Nickit.

And it was very cute seeing how the Gengar looked at Yoongi like he was some sort of celebrity.

The days after the Darkest Day turned into weeks turned into a month, and you were still visiting the train station. And you had started to notice something interesting. When you left the station, after the pokemon had eaten and you’d spent some time with it, it would follow you and Yoongi. Not for long. A block or two at most. But the purple ghost would toddle along beside Yoongi, its short legs and round frame causing it to almost waddle. Then, when it got too far from the station, it would look back almost sadly, and it would stop.

“I wish there was a way to explain that its trainer wasn’t coming back,” Yoongi groaned, hiding his eyes in the crook of his elbow.

He was laying on the floor of your living room, a blanket stolen from the back of your couch balled up under his head as a pillow. His soaked t-shirt clung to him in odd places--parts of his sleeve stuck to his bicep, you could see the light definition of his abdomen through the fabric hugging his tummy. Outside, rain pattered against your window, the dark sky rolling with rumbles of thunder. Your apartment was closer to the train station. You had run when the deluge started, the fat, cold drops spurring you on faster. You hadn’t missed the sadness in the Gengar’s eyes when you left.

Apparently, neither had Yoongi.

You had your arms shoved in a hoodie--Yoongi’s hoodie--to stave off the chill of the outside. Curious and slightly amused, you watched him from your position on the couch. Your Nickit laid at your side, its broom-like tail curling around its body and covering its little nose as it napped. You stroked its soft fur gently, frowning slightly as Yoongi huffed. You knew he was still thinking about the Gengar and how hurt the shadow pokemon had looked when the two of you started to run away.

A clap of thunder shook the walls of your apartment, causing Yoongi to jump slightly. Seconds later, his phone rang, just once. A text message. He read it and swore.

“Jin says the power’s out in our building.”

“Stay here,” you told him softly.

He nodded once, and that was that. You hadn’t really expected an argument. This was nothing new. Yoongi stayed over often enough that he had clothes in a drawer in your dresser. You kept a stock of his favorite coffee brand because he complained when you offered him anything else. You even bought toothbrushes in packs of two. Not because it was economical--though it certainly was--but because Yoongi needed a way to keep up with personal hygiene, too.

You knew that none of this arrangement was normal for people who were only close friends, but you refused to let yourself consider the alternative. That would make it real, and you weren’t particularly ready to face the implications of any of it yet.

“You should adopt the Gengar,” he said suddenly. When you looked at him, he was staring at you. His dark eyes were intense, and you could see something in them--some kind of emotion--but you couldn’t tell what.

You laughed, the sudden noise jolting your Nickit awake. It scurried off the couch and away--probably to your bedroom. “That Gengar wants nothing to do with me.”

Yoongi scoffed. “It likes you.”

“It likes you.” You slid off the couch and onto the floor, scooting closer to him. He lifted his head from his blanket-pillow, adjusting how he was laying so he could plop his head against your thigh. “It likes me because it associates me with you.”

He hummed, but didn’t say anything. His brow furrowed and he frowned, refusing to look at you even as your hand found his hair, your fingers carding through the unnaturally ashen strands.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned softly, pushing his bangs off his forehead. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing. I know that face.”

“You know I don’t want to do the whole trainer thing.” Yoongi sighed, rubbing at his eyes in frustration. His long fingers dug into his eye sockets, and for a second, you were concerned that it was painful. But then he let one of his hands drop, his other rubbing down his face tiredly. “I can barely take care of myself half the time.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

He snorted derisively, rolling his eyes. “I disappear for a week every year because I get sad. Can’t really do that when something else relies on you.”

You frowned. You’d never been sure if the Darkest Day was intentional or not. You hadn’t wanted to ask him. It seemed too personal, and despite how close the two of you were, it seemed like a line that, once crossed, you couldn’t go back from. But knowing that he knew what he was doing--that his isolation was planned and purposeful--you hated to admit that it hurt a little bit. Yoongi was your best friend. You wanted him to feel like he could rely on you and trust you with the heavy stuff.

“It’s okay to be sad sometimes, Yoongi.” You kept your voice soft and gentle as you ran your fingers through his hair. “Everyone gets sad. It’s human.”

“Not like this.”

“What do you mean?”

For a while, Yoongi was silent. He sat up, scooting backwards so that his back rested against the couch, his knees tucked up close to his chest. You let him go, let him retreat into himself, let him stay quiet. You figured you had waited for him to come to you during the Darkest Day, you could wait for him to want to talk to you.

He didn’t say much for the rest of the night. You fell asleep with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, like you were standing on some sort of precipice, unsure of whether to back off or take the leap.

Something woke you up. You weren’t sure what it was. Maybe it was the rain that was still pelting against the window. Or maybe a sudden flash of lightning. Or maybe it was Yoongi shifting beside you. He was curled up in front of you, one hand tucked between his knees. You had wrapped yourself around him in your sleep, your body curled close to his, your arms encircling his waist. The hand that wasn’t tucked between his knees clutched your hand, his fingers laced loosely with yours.

He shifted again, and you heard him inhale shakily. You could feel him trembling slightly and you pressed ever closer, moulding yourself against him in hopes that, if he was cold--Yoongi was almost always a little cold--the extra body heat would help. But he continued to shiver and after a second of silence, he let go of your hand to wipe at his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned, unsure if he could hear you over the rain.

Yoongi shook his head and you hummed, pressing your cheek against his shoulder blade.

You laid there for a while, listening to him breathe and feeling his body move with each breath. You sighed. “I know you know this,” you told him quietly, half-mumbling into his t-shirt. “At least, I hope you know this. But I’m here for you. Whatever it is, I’ll listen.”

His hand found yours again, and he squeezed your fingers in acknowledgement.

Silence fell upon you again, even the thunder dying down to just leave the rain pattering against your window. For a moment, you thought Yoongi had fallen asleep, but his breathing wasn’t even enough, wasn’t shallow enough. So you laid there quietly, mentally luxuriating in the softness of his shirt against your cheek but refusing to go back to sleep before you knew he was okay.

Yoongi took a deep breath. “When I was a kid, my parents both had pokemon.”

You knew that. You’d met both of Yoongi’s parents. His dad’s Crobat was surprisingly kind, and his mother’s Swellow had the softest feathers you’d ever seen. You had always wondered how Yoongi could have grown up surrounded by pokemon and not come out of it with a love of the creatures.

“They got me a Litten for my eighth birthday.”

He readjusted then, rolling onto his back so that he could stare up at the ceiling. You gave him a bit of space, one of your arms coming up to support your head so that you could look at him properly. Yoongi kept a hold on your other hand, clinging to you loosely. You let him rest your joined hands against his stomach.

“I loved that cat,” he said softly, his thumb absently rubbing against your hand. “Back then, I had no idea what was wrong with it. I just knew that it couldn’t use its fire moves and that it had trouble walking. Mom and Dad said it was sick, but I didn’t care. I’d come home from school every day and I’d play with it and carry it around the neighborhood on walks. But it just kept getting sicker and sicker.”

He cleared his throat, rubbing at his eye with his free hand. You waited silently, patiently, giving him time to collect himself. Yoongi was in touch with his emotions more than most, but that didn’t mean he particularly enjoyed crying.

“When I got older, I did some research.” His dark eyes met yours briefly before darting to the side toward the window. “Hip dysplasia, respiratory issues, epilepsy, and heart disease. It never stood a chance.” Yoongi sighed, loosening his grip on your hand so that he could play with your fingers. You could see the tracks of his tears in the low light of your bedroom. “When Litten died, I had barely turned nine. I was devastated.”

The Darkest Day. Every year, like clockwork, the Darkest Day happened seven weeks after Yoongi’s birthday.

He swallowed thickly before continuing. “They got it at a breeder mill. They never said it, but how else does a pokemon get all those problems? Either poor Litten lost the genetic lottery purely by chance, or the jackass breeder didn’t know what the hell they were doing.” The shadows on Yoongi’s brow darkened when he frowned, and you could sense more than see the tension in his jaw. “Either way, Litten didn’t deserve it. My parents tried to get me a new pokemon a few months after... “ His voice caught slightly and he cleared his throat again. “A Poochyena. But I couldn’t bring myself to love it. It hurt too much.”

“I’m so sorry.” You pushed his hair off his forehead gently.

“It’s....” He shrugged, dark eyes finally meeting yours. “It’ll just never be the same, you know? I don’t want to replace Litten. It wasn’t his fault he…”

He trailed off and silence enveloped you once again. You stroked his hair once more before going back to leaning on your hand, watching him. His eyes slid closed and he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Outside, the rain was finally beginning to die down.

“You wouldn’t be replacing him,” you told him softly, testing the waters. “You can still love Litten and care about another pokemon. Of course they won’t compare. But I think that’s a good thing.”

He hummed. A soft rumble of thunder sounded outside, the last vestige of the storm. “Do you think Gengar’s okay?”

You couldn’t answer that. If Yoongi’s information was correct, the ghost pokemon had been abandoned by its trainer. This had been the first major storm since Yoongi had found the Gengar. You had no idea how it had weathered the storm, if it had been scared of the thunder, if it had been able to get out of the rain.

“Do you want to go check on it?”

Yoongi shook his head. But then, he paused. “Yeah. I kind of do.”

And that was how you found yourself at the train station at two o’clock in the morning, searching the alley for the plump purple shadow. It was cold, the chill of the storm still clung to the air and the soggy ground did nothing to help your freezing feet. Neither of you had bothered to put on actual clothes--you had pulled on a pair of old sweatpants and the hoodie Yoongi had bought two sizes too big specifically so you could share it.

Yoongi clutched your hand tightly as you searched, and for a moment, you were transported back to the Darkest Day, when he had first called you to help him feed the Gengar. How much and yet how little had changed since then.

Eventually, you found the Gengar. It was sitting under an overhang on the steps at the side entrance of the station, staring at its feet gloomily. As soon as it heard your footsteps approaching, it started to dissolve into the pavement.

“It’s us!” Yoongi called, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible. The train station closed at midnight, and while the city was busy enough that it wasn’t entirely suspicious that you were out so late, it certainly wouldn’t be great if you managed to disturb all of the neighbors.

The Gengar froze, the lower half of its body hidden in the shadows of the steps. Its red eyes watched the two of you warily. It didn’t look particularly happy.

Carefully, Yoongi took a few steps closer. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, crouching down in front of the pokemon. “I was worried about you in the storm.” The Gengar huffed and looked away. “It’s chilly out. Are you cold?” Yoongi attempted, his tone placating.

From a few steps away, you watched as the ghost pokemon slowly let its guard down. Its red eyes softened, and it frowned ever so slightly.

Yoongi sighed. “I’m sorry we left you out here. We shouldn’t have done that.” Quickly, he corrected himself. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He looked over at you then, his dark eyes meeting yours briefly before darting away. He stared at the logo on your hoodie--his hoodie--for what felt like an eternity. Then, he took a deep breath and turned back to the Gengar.

“Did you… Do you want to come home with us?” You could hear the nerves in his tone, the slight wobble in his voice.

The Gengar sat silently, staring at Yoongi. It didn’t move. It didn’t pull itself from the shadows. It just stared.

“I know you have a trainer,” Yoongi said quickly, attempting to smooth over the situation. “So it wouldn’t even need to be a permanent thing. I just… feel bad that you’re out here all alone.”

Eons passed. Your toes froze in your sneakers. But still, you stood there, slightly behind Yoongi as he crouched in front of the purple ghost. If you hadn’t been sure of it before, you were convinced of it now: Yoongi could probably convince you to jump off a bridge. He never would do that, because he was a good person and a kind and benevolent being, but looking back over your years of friendship, standing outside of a train station at two in the morning wasn’t even the weirdest situation he had managed to drag you into.

So yeah, you were pretty sure if he asked, you would jump off a bridge.

Eventually, though, the Gengar slithered the lower half of its body out of the shadows, its little legs phasing into existence in a transparent gradient. It reached forward and Yoongi grabbed its little hand. Gengar smiled at that, its eyes falling closed and a wide, toothy grin spreading across its face.

Yoongi stood then, the Gengar’s hand still in his own, and turned to you. “Do you uh… mind if we still crash at your place?”

You laughed and nodded. He grabbed your hand as he passed you, leading you and Gengar back towards your apartment for the night.

The power outage at Yoongi’s apartment complex had been more significant than anyone had initially realized. Apparently, during the storm, a bolt of lightning had hit something electrical on the roof of one of the buildings and sent a surge through the complex, shorting circuits and frying wires all through the system. Some parts of the building needed to be rewired, and then the city had to inspect everything to make sure it was safe.

Two weeks later, Yoongi was still crashing at your place.

You didn’t mind. Honestly, you didn’t. Yoongi was far from the worst roommate in the world--he cleaned up after himself, and he was quiet, and he was a kickass cook. And Gengar wasn’t too bad, either. It seemed to get along with Nickit, but it mostly kept to itself, seemingly entertained by phasing in and out of walls.

It was just… for two weeks, you’d barely gotten any sleep.

You weren’t quite sure why, either. All you knew was that you would wake up exhausted, as if you had just spent eight hours running a marathon instead of resting. Some days, you would wake up with a pounding headache that couldn’t be touched by over-the-counter medication. Other days, you would wake up and your whole body would hurt, like you had spent all night with muscle cramps.

The lack of sleep was starting to get to you. You could feel your fuse getting shorter and shorter, and you were almost always grumpy, even with Yoongi. So when he plopped himself down on your couch after work one evening, you fought the urge to explode.

“Jin says the landlord thinks it’s going to be another week at least,” Yoongi reported, tucking his phone into his back pocket.

He didn’t deserve your frustrations, you tried to remind yourself. He was just doing his best.

“Great,” you said dryly. You could hear the snap in your voice, and when you saw the corners of his mouth turn down, you knew he had heard it, too. “I’m sorry,” you said immediately, sighing and running a hand through your hair. “I just… haven’t been sleeping well.”

He hummed in understanding. Normally, you loved how level and even tempered he was, how understanding he could be. Yoongi never judged you too harshly, giving you the benefit of the doubt, even when you probably didn’t deserve it. Even his kindness was starting to annoy you.

“Do you want to try to take a nap?” he asked softly, turning slightly so that he was better facing you. “I can put something boring on tv, and you can get comfortable?”

For a moment, you wanted to snap at him again, to tell him that no, you didn’t want to take a nap. It was six in the evening, and there was no way you would sleep at night if you took a nap now. But the smile he gave you was so soft, and his arms looked inviting, and really, who cared if you couldn’t sleep that night? It wasn’t like you could get rest anyway. So you nodded, just once, and he pulled you into his chest.

You’d always been amazed at how natural cuddling with Yoongi felt. Your bodies fit together well. His torso and legs were the perfect length for you to curl around when you were laying down, his shoulders were the perfect height for you to lean against. You knew most people were confused by your relationship.

Lying there on the couch with him, your head against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around you, you felt yourself begin to drift. Yoongi was warm and soft, despite the fact that he had been hitting the gym more frequently. And he had put on one of those Behind the Music documentaries where the narrator was just dronelike enough that it was soothing to listen to on a low volume.

You were asleep in no time.

It was dark, darker than you’d ever experienced before. At first, you thought maybe the power had gone out. But no, that wasn’t right. This darkness felt foreboding, ominous, almost primordial. And it went on forever. You weren’t sure how you knew that, but as soon as the thought entered your mind, you knew it was true. The inky blackness had no end, no beginning. It just was.

And it was thick. Like heavy fog in the mountains on a midsummer morning. You could feel it in your lungs, how the air was saturated and oppressive, could feel how it weighed your body down as you moved. Every breath you took was a little difficult, as if you were taking in barely enough oxygen.

A flash of light off to your left drew your attention, and you made your way to it, moving carefully. As you got closer, a pit started to form in your stomach--a strange, nauseating dropping sensation, as if you were in perpetual freefall.

The light was blinding. You had no idea how you were moving closer to it--your legs and arms felt like lead. Closing your eyes didn’t help, the flashing shined through your eyelids in bright hues of reds and oranges. The brightness hurt, and as you squeezed your eyes tight against it, your ears started to ring.

One last flash, brighter than the others, and then it all stopped.

When the spots cleared from your eyes, you could see a figure in front of you. He wasn’t facing you, but you would recognize the box-dyed blue-grey hair anywhere.

“What are you doing?”

His voice was cold, his tone even. For a moment, you didn’t think he was talking to you. But then his dark eyes met yours, and you could see the annoyance in them. Of course he was talking to you. Who else would he be talking to? Your stomach dropped.

“Why do you have to cling to me all the time? Do you know how annoying it is to always have you hanging off me?” He scoffed. “I don’t like people touching me. Don’t you know that? Or are you too stuck in your own world to care?”

The pit in your stomach solidified into something akin to dread, and you could feel your heart start to race. This was a dream. Your brain was just creating lies. Yoongi had been your closest friend for a long time. He would have told you if anything you did made him uncomfortable. Right?

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind, but it only brought the ringing in your ears back.

“You need to stop.” Yoongi’s voice, firm this time, sounded further off, like he was speaking to you from underwater. “It’s not nice.”

You were confused, but the Yoongi in front of you spoke again. “God, sometimes I just… I need you to leave me alone. I need my space. Just because I’m staying with you doesn’t mean we have to hang out every second of every day. You can be so annoying sometimes.”

When you opened your mouth to respond, you couldn’t speak.

Underwater Yoongi spoke again. “Gengar. I know you understand me. Stop.”

It was like a fog lifted from your mind. The Gengar. Was it causing this? In front of you, Yoongi turned, his mouth contorted into a wide, toothy grin, his eyes glowing a bright red. And then he was gone.

A few seconds later, you woke up, feeling very much like a deep sea diver surfacing after a particularly long dive. For a moment, you were disoriented, the Behind the Music documentary still quietly playing on the tv confused you. It felt like you had been asleep for hours. But in reality, it had apparently only been forty-five minutes. The pressure around your body felt wrong, and immediately, you sat up, pulling away quickly. Your sudden movement scared Yoongi, and he jumped, his hands flying up to shoulder-height in an expression of submission and innocence.

You rubbed your forehead. The pressure around you had been his arms. He had been holding you. You sighed. Your head hurt.

Yoongi looked at you, concerned. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

When he reached out to grab your hand, you pulled away, your brain screaming at you.

Do you know how annoying it is to always have you hanging off me?

Confusion flashed in Yoongi’s dark eyes, his brow furrowing slightly. He whispered your name, his hands falling helplessly into his lap. “You had a nightmare?” You nodded, and his eyes fell closed. “I was afraid of that.”

“What do you mean?” It was strange to hear your own voice. It was hoarse, like you had spent the past hour yelling.

He scratched behind his ear with his index finger, refusing to make eye contact with you. “Gengar is… well, I had to scold it.” You said nothing, still too out of it from your dream to question him. “I think it’s the reason you’ve been sleeping so badly.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure exactly. I think it might be jealous. You did say it liked me more than you.”

You nodded. You knew that you should be angry, or at the very least, upset with the fact that Yoongi’s Gengar was eating your dreams and giving you nightmares. And maybe eventually, you would be. But in that moment, you were kind of relieved. It was Gengar that had made the Yoongi of your nightmares say those things. It wasn’t your fault that you were so sleep deprived.

“I told it that it had to stop or this wasn’t going to work,” Yoongi said softly. “I want Gengar to be happy with me as its trainer, but I won’t let it attack you. That’s not happening.”

“I appreciate that.” You let him take your hand then. “I would like to not have a dream like that again.”

Yoongi nodded, and you could tell he wanted to ask more. But he didn’t, choosing instead to lean back against the couch and turn his attention back to the documentary.

“Gengar’s sulking right now,” he said softly. “But I want it to apologize to you.”

You hummed. You appreciated his desire to make it better, at least.

You thought he had dropped the subject of your nightmare. But then you went to bed for the night. You were still shaken by the dream, but you hadn’t realized just how much it had affected you until you laid down.

Normally, you would have automatically curled yourself around Yoongi, your legs curving to fit behind his, an arm draped lazily around his waist. But you hesitated. Deciding not to risk anything, you faced away from him, burying yourself in your blankets.

You weren’t sure how long it took, but eventually, you heard him sigh, and he rolled over. He tossed and turned for a while, grunting in dissatisfaction every time he moved. It took a long time for him to lie still and stay silent, and you thought that perhaps he had fallen asleep.

“Are you okay?”

Perhaps he hadn’t.

“What do you mean?”

You rolled to your other side, readjusting so you were looking at him. In the darkness of your bedroom, you could tell he was upset. His brow was furrowed, the corners of his mouth downturned in a half-frown. It was quiet except for the sounds of Nickit and Gengar playing somewhere in the apartment.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi repeated, his voice husky with sleep. He was clearly tired, and you felt bad that he was still awake.

“I’m fine,” you told him, not meeting his eyes. “Why?”

“Then why…?” He sighed and then yawned, struggling to open his eyes back up again. “I don’t mind the cuddling. You should know that by now.”

You shrugged. “I wasn’t sure.”

“What was your dream about?” His sharp eyes were on you, then, still tired, but attentive and worried. “What’s got you so in your head?”

You chewed your lip, unsure if you wanted to tell him. But Yoongi was your best friend, and what was the point of that if you couldn’t tell him everything?

“You called me clingy,” you said softly, picking at your thumbnail. “And said that I was annoying.”

He swore under his breath, letting out a heavy sigh. He grabbed for your hand, bringing it up to rest against his chest, his fingers loosely intertwining with yours. For a while, he was quiet, his thumb thoughtfully ghosting against your skin in small circles. When he spoke next, he wasn’t looking at you.

“I have never once thought you were clingy or annoying,” Yoongi said quietly. “Trust me, I live with Jin. I swear to god, if you Google ‘annoying,’ his picture would be the first result.”

You laughed in spite of yourself. Yoongi loved Jin like a brother, no matter what he said. But he was right--Jin’s demeanor certainly wasn’t for everyone.

Yoongi smiled, squeezing your hand gently. “I don’t think you're clingy. And I don’t think you’re annoying. I like hanging out with you. I…” He paused, and for a moment, he looked like he was scolding himself. “I like how affectionate you are. It makes me feel appreciated.”

When you finally fell asleep that night, it was with an arm hooked over Yoongi’s waist, your face pressed between his shoulder blades.

‘Do you want to grab dinner tonight?’

You’d been staring at the message in your notifications for ten minutes. You felt bad ignoring him. You’d never outright ignored Yoongi before. But you had spent the past week avoiding his calls and not reading his texts.

You hadn’t seen him since he’d gone back to his apartment, the electricity finally fixed. Not necessarily because you didn’t want to see him--you missed him desperately--but you needed space. You still weren’t comfortable being around Gengar, even if you mostly understood why it had attacked you.

It had lashed out because it was jealous. Yoongi was its trainer, you knew it had gotten attached to him quickly. In a way, you had come in between them. Your closeness with Yoongi kept him from hanging out entirely with Gengar. Thus, the frustration and the attack.

But understanding why didn’t really make you any more comfortable.

You locked your phone, the screen turning off immediately. Sighing, you leaned back against the back of your couch and ran a hand through your hair. You couldn’t keep ignoring him. You didn’t want to ruin your relationship with Yoongi.

You should have dinner with him.

You unlocked your phone and tapped into your message app. You typed out a quick reply, agreeing to get dinner and hang out. And you sat. And waited.

The minutes dragged as you waited for him to respond. Normally, he was good about texting you back. Even if he was busy, he was attentive to his notifications, especially when they were from you. You started to get nervous. What if he was upset with you?

You started to type out an apology for the late response when you heard a hiss from the corner of the room. When the shadows behind your television started to darken and shift, you yelped in surprise. But then the shadow started to solidify, and two purple horns started to emerge from the wall. When the red eyes and the big, toothy grin appeared in the shadows, you groaned.

“How did you get here?” you asked the shadow.

It cackled and emerged fully, tumbling out of the wall and landing on the floor with a soft ‘thud.’ Gengar laughed, a gleeful look on its face. When it saw you weren’t smiling, its grin faded. Slowly, it waddled over to you, its little feet silent against the floor. It touched your knee, patting it gently, a look of remorse on its face.

You sighed. You wanted to stay mad at the pokemon. You wanted to hold a grudge. But you couldn’t. The poor thing had been abandoned at the train station, left to the elements. Attacking you had been the wrong decision, but you couldn’t fault it for panicking when it thought Yoongi was spending more time with you.

“Does Yoongi know you’re here?” you questioned softly, rubbing the tufts of shadow on top of its head. That was when you noticed it was clutching something in one of its hands. “What do you have there?”

Gengar made a proud noise, perking up slightly as it handed you the object. A cell phone. You were about to ask whose it was when the lock screen lit up from the movement, answering your question.

Your own face grinned up at you from the screen, your chin tucked over Yoongi’s shoulder. He had taken the selfie at the carnival when it was in town. You had thought the lights by the carousel had been pretty--all blues and greens and purples--and had insisted that he pose for a photo with you. He’d made a dumb joke just before snapping the pic, and had managed to catch you both mid-laugh.

Your heart swelled at the memory, but at the same time, it ached. Partly because you felt guilty for ghosting him for a week. But mostly because you missed him.

“You shouldn’t take people’s things,” you chided, gently but firmly. “It’s not nice. Yoongi’s probably wondering where his phone is.”

Then you realized, Yoongi was probably wondering where Gengar was.

So you walked it home. You trekked ten blocks to his apartment, walking slowly so the ghost pokemon could keep up, its little hand clutched in yours the whole way. Gengar chattered away beside you the whole time, cooing when it saw a bird pokemon or pointing up at the clouds when it saw something interesting. It felt almost like you were taking a five foot tall toddler for a walk.

You knocked on the apartment door, standing on the steps and leaning against the banister. You were nervous. Why were you nervous? It was Yoongi. You’d been to his apartment hundreds of times. You and Jin were always on the same team when your friend group got together for game night. You shouldn’t be nervous.

And yet your stomach gave an uneasy flop, and you picked at your nails, unsure.

Beside you, Gengar looked around, waiting patiently at your side, its hand still clutched in yours. It got distracted by a Mothim flapping by, its orange and yellow wings hypnotizing the ghost pokemon for a brief moment.

But then the door opened, and both your and Gengar’s attention snapped to the man on the other side. Jin was tall and broad, and if you believed him, he was so handsome that women stopped him constantly asking to date him.

“Yah, there you are,” Jin groaned, swatting at Gengar to get it to enter the apartment. “You can’t just disappear like that, you know.” He sighed, leaning heavily against the door. “Thank you for returning our little Houdini. We’re still trying to teach manners.”

“I noticed,” you laughed, holding up Yoongi’s phone. “Seems it swiped this on its way out.”

Jin rolled his eyes and stepped back, motioning for you to come in. You kicked off your shoes, nodding when he told you Yoongi was in the living room. Gengar stood in the entry waiting for you, and you ushered it into the living room.

Yoongi sat on the plush chair, head in his hands, his hair a mess from running his hands through it. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell he was upset. His back was tense, and he had made himself as small as possible.

“Hey,” you said softly, attempting not to scare him. “Brought your runaway back.”

His head snapped to you, dark eyes darting from your face to Gengar in front of you. Gengar, for its part, looked apologetic, its mouth turned down in a frown. Yoongi stood, moving to meet you. His hands fell on Gengar’s head, examining its round face for signs of distress. When he saw none, he looked at you, eyes meeting yours briefly before he looked away.

You handed him his phone. “It brought me this, too.”

Yoongi nodded. “Thanks.” His voice was soft, unsure, like he didn’t know how to talk to you.

It hurt, hearing him like that. In the years you had been friends, Yoongi had never been anything but straightforward with you, had never been anything but confident. Even when he was feeling shy or nervous or broken, his unease was never directed toward you.

You waited for him to say something else. He looked like he wanted to, but he stood there, his hand stroking Gengar’s head gently, unspeaking. It was awkward, and you hated it. When nothing came, you sighed.

“Okay, well, I uh…” you stuttered, rubbing your hands together nervously. “I guess I’ll go.”

You took a few awkward steps toward the door, but stopped when Yoongi spoke again.

“So that’s it?”

“What?” you turned, immediately taking a step back. He was standing in front of you, his body barely inches from yours.

“That’s it? You’re just going to leave?” He seemed frustrated. “We haven’t talked for a week. Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you said quietly, looking at your feet. “No, I-”

“Is it Gengar?”

“No.” It was the truth. You weren’t mad at Gengar. Not anymore.

“Then what?”

“I needed time. I didn’t want to be around Gengar at first. But…” You sighed, leaning against the wall beside you. “It got hard to reach out. I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“I wanted to hear from you,” Yoongi said softly. “I always want to hear from you. You’re...” He trailed off, a strange look in his eyes.

He stayed silent, you could see him struggling with what to say next.

Best friends tell each other everything, you thought to yourself. Even when it’s hard.

So you told him the truth.

“I missed you,” you admitted, reaching out and grabbing his hand. You could feel the butterflies fluttering in your stomach as he intertwined your fingers. You were nervous. Why were you nervous? “Did you still want to get dinner?”

Yoongi smiled and nodded. “Of course.” There was something about the softness in his voice that warmed your heart.

You knew you should turn, lead him to the door to go get takeout or to the couch to scroll through a delivery app. But for some reason, you couldn’t move. You were rooted to the spot, stuck there staring at Yoongi’s wide, genuine smile and his deep brown eyes. His head cocked to the side, his eyebrow raised in confusion. For the briefest of moments, you thought you saw his eyes dart down and then back up to meet your eyes.

It wasn’t clear who leaned in first, or when. Only that it happened and that Yoongi’s lips brushed yours gently. Your body felt like he had lit you on fire, every nerve ending simultaneously telling your brain something different. You were suddenly hyper-aware of your hand clutched in Yoongi’s, and the way his hand rested on your hip. When did that get there?

“Was that… was that okay?” his voice was soft, his cheeks flushed the brightest shade of pink. He was still standing so close, his breath fanning against your skin.

You nodded, your brain unable to form coherent thoughts beyond the obvious. You had kissed Yoongi. Or Yoongi had kissed you. You still weren’t clear on the specifics. But his lips had been soft and warm and moulded perfectly to your own. You had to admit that while you had never particularly thought about kissing Yoongi before, now that it had happened…

You very much wanted to do it again.

Thankfully, Yoongi seemed to have a similar thought, because he leaned in again. Your hand slid up his chest, gently knotting in the hair at the base of his neck. Somehow, in that one action, he managed to answer all the questions swirling in your brain and some you didn’t even know you had.

Why did he treat you differently than his other friends?

Why didn’t he seem to care that neither of you had personal boundaries around each other?

What were you?

A raspy giggle behind you jolted you apart. Gengar’s head poked through the wall, it’s red eyes closed as it laughed gleefully.

Yoongi let out a dry chuckle, his hand connecting with the Gengar’s forehead. “Get out of here, you creep,” he scolded playfully. “I’m still mad at you for running away.”

Gengar let out a happy cackle but disappeared into the wall. A second later, Jin screamed in the kitchen, apparently the victim of the ghost pokemon’s mischief. You laughed loudly, Yoongi’s shoulders shaking as he attempted to mask his laughter by burying his face in your shoulder.

“Yah! Don’t laugh at me,” Jin yelled back, appearing in the kitchen doorway. His shirt was completely soaked. He must have been doing dishes when Gengar scared him.

“We’re going out,” Yoongi managed between laughs, squeezing your hand gently. “Watch the little criminal while I’m gone?”

Jin grumbled and waved you away, returning to the kitchen. “Guess it’s just you and me tonight, kid,” you heard him mumble. Gengar cackled in response.

Yoongi kissed you once more, quickly, catching you off-guard. But then he tugged you down the hallway, his hands only separating from you so he could put his shoes on.

“Where to?” he asked softly, eyes meeting yours as you both stood back up.

You walked out of his apartment hand-in-hand. Eventually, you would have to talk about it, but for now, you were content with the new, unexpected development in your relationship.

dinoyoongi

Yoongi is my favorite boy and Gengar is my favorite Pokemon. This is the cutest ever. 😍

#katie recommends #yoongi #yoongi fanfic

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