honeybee - m.yg.
genre: heavy angst, fluff (8k)
summary: yoongi was a steady hand in your life, the kind of hand that would walk oceans, cross busy roads, walk through a million people but that never lets go, and your hand, always hangs in the air, and you have to let his go. but right when you're about to break up, your hand refuses to go and yoongi stays until you have the strength to do so.
a/n: it's been too long, i bring a new lens to love.
masterpost masterlist
-
i hope i never see what your face looks like going.
"when will we do all this then?" yoongi was usually a practical man, but right now, he was just a man trying to hold on to whatever was left.
there was a fridge.
and so many magnets.
so many promises on what to do, where to go but in front of that fridge, there was only you and him, with not much left between you.
"i don't know," you said, playing and rearranging the magnets, trying not to feel the tension threatening to close around your throat.
you and yoongi liked planning, liked going “oh, we should go there!” every other day, and once you couldn’t keep track of how many “oh, we should go there”s passed between you two, you bought magnets.
a magnet for anything you wanted to see, eat or do together.
everything from las vegas's neon lights to a simple mug of hot chocolate with hearts bouncing around it, you had it all.
you filled it up meticulously over the years.
but now, you barely looked at the fridge, barely bought another magnet, barely bothered to say “oh, we should go there!”, barely even looked at each other.
you still existed, next to him, around him, saw his face as soon as you woke up in the morning but you started to turn away, started to move away when he sat next to you, you don't know when it started, you don't know when your skin stopped singing when he came close but right now, looking at the man you once loved, you felt nothing.
but you liked planning and unlike what you've been doing for the past few months, you wanted to follow through.
"so, should we do them? we did buy all of them," you decide and yoongi doesn't respond for many minutes and each minute feels like the last you'll see him.
"we should."
"all of them?"
"all of them."
"and then?"
"and then, we move on."
-
sticky sweet, tangerine.
you would think a couple living together for two years, would've had time to hit a cafe together but every christmas, you would come home with a steaming cup of hot chocolate from your favorite place, only for yoongi to steal the marshmallows on it and go, "oh, we should go there!"
but you never did and the magnet made its home on the fridge.
it seemed like a good start, a safe start.
except yoongi was about 20 minutes late.
which normally wouldn't be a big deal, but today, it was, today, it annoyed you, today, you wanted to be somewhere else and not waiting for the man you used to love at the doorstep of a coffee shop filled with couples.
maybe this was what happened when love thawed.
irritation, exhaustion, impatience came through.
"sorry, sorry!" yoongi's voice cut through and your irritation softened to guilt.
it had only been twenty minutes.
and this was still yoongi.
"i'm so sorry, meeting just went on and on and," yoongi cut himself off at your raised eyebrows, "got it," he mumbled and stepped forward to open the door for you.
years of being together did that.
knowing the threshold, the boundaries that one normally has and what pushes it just slightly.
"two hot chocolates, please," you said to the cashier who was a little too smiley for the middle of the day, "sure! would you like marshmallow fluff with that?"
you've heard of marshmallows but, "what's that? is it seasonal?"
and she literally brightens up, as if you've just discovered treasure in the sea, "so, we put a rim of melted marshmallow around your cup, and then torch it to give it that toasted flavor," which sounded great, "it's delicious and yes, it's seasonal, won't be here after this week," her expression was magical.
and you were sold.
"how do you do that if it's a to-go?" and the fantasy is ruined. you glare at yoongi who seems genuinely concerned.
you just wished he was as concerned about other things, like your destroyed relationship, rather than how burnt marshmallow fluff is transported.
the cashier smiles uneasily, "we can't do that for to-go, unfortunately, it's for only if you have it here," and you shrug, "then, we can just have it here."
"actually, i have another meeting soon, i'm sorry," yoongi chimes again and, was he always like this? or were you just noticing it now? and when did he start apologizing so much?
"oh," you deflate, telling yourself that he didn't owe you his time anymore, "okay, that's fine," you turn to the cashier and smile awkwardly, she shares the same smile, god knows she doesn't want to be in the middle of this.
"we'll just take the normal ones to-go," you confirm, and yoongi shifts uneasily next to you, "i'll wait outside," you let him know, you weren't paying for the normal ones, if he wanted the normal ones, he could go ahead and pay for you both.
it was petty but you couldn't be anything else at the moment.
outside, you focus on the dogs walking by, the trees finally changing color, the couples who whispered to each other and kissed cheeks, and you felt heavier than you did in the coffee shop.
when did it change?
you couldn't pinpoint it, you couldn't remember a particular day or moment that shifted things between you and yoongi but if you both were ready to walk away, it had to be something significant, right?
"come inside," yoongi calls out to you and you frown, "where are the drinks?"
he holds up two cups with white clouds sitting at their rims, "she said it's seasonal, right?"
and you don't hold back your smile.
you kisshis cheek as you walk in and take a cup from his hands.
after all, this was still yoongi.
-
it's too hard to describe this, in a way that feels honest.
for pottery, yoongi showed up on time and you were pleasantly surprised to see him right at the door as you walk up to the small studio.
"is this it?" he asks and you nod, "yeah, the class is only an hour long by the way, in case you have anywhere to be," you head in and he trails behind, "nope, nowhere else to be."
you ignore the tug in your heart at his words and maybe it was for the best, because two hours in, you and yoongi sat defeated in front of the rotating potter's wheel.
you stared as it went round and round, you felt the clay harden around your fingers and the sweat lining your forehead, you didn't have to look at yoongi to know that he was the same.
the instructor circled again, pausing at where you two sat and raised her eyebrow, "how are we doing here?" she had the audacity to smile at your destroyed pride and faces.
"all good," you grinned back with gritted teeth, refusing to acknowledge your collapsing creation.
"well, if you need anything, i'm right here!" she cheerfully says and you almost want to throw the wheel on her, "sure!" you exclaim, just as loud and that leaves you at square one again.
until.
yoongi starts laughing beside you.
"all good!" he imitates your tone, only to fall back in laughter again and you glare at him, "how are you laughing?"
he ignores you.
"yoongi, she was judging us, our skill, our talent!" you fume and he smirks, "we don't have any of that."
he had a point.
but.
"how are you not supremely annoyed right now?" because you were, you were so annoyed, you were annoyed that you paid to be humiliated.
"come on, you're too entertaining for that," yoongi bumps your shoulder and while you want to continue glaring, your insides soften.
yoongi had once told you.
at the beginning of your love.
you had just fought with someone over them pushing yoongi, and yoongi had dragged you away, laughing in your ear and keeping you close.
you had asked him the same thing again, how was he not annoyed, how was he not angry, how was he walking away, and he had shrugged.
he had told you, "i don't know, when i'm with you, everything is fun, even things that are supposed to be, well, supposed to be irritating."
if any of that sentiment remained, you never noticed it until today.
and as he presents to you his broken cat figure, you smile at it he's not looking.
you don't show him what you make.
a (kind of) mug for hot chocolate with marshmallows (very poorly) carved on them.
-
i just reach and you're right there.
you wanted to check off as many things as you could in town before you had to move on to the cities you'd stuck as magnets.
and that unfortunately included ice skating.
you watched with gritted teeth as yoongi sailed in front of you.
he had always been unusually good at ice skating and you, well, you had other talents, which is why you never ended up doing it together.
but yoongi had come home one day, with a smile that could break his face and he had glowed with happiness, you asked him then, "what's got you in such a good mood?"
he had kissed your cheek before answering, he always did that when he came home, "ice skating with the boys, you won't believe it but it was exhilarating."
you had laughed and told him that he could enjoy it all he wants, by himself.
but the next week, he had brought the magnet home and told you, "i think it would make you happy too."
it was like yoongi, to think of your happiness, to predict your happiness, to find and discover things that made you happy.
he was one of the reasons you had been so happy for a good chunk of your life.
now, he glided across ice as if he belonged on it and you held onto the railings and hated every second that brought you here.
no, you didn't expect him to be romantic, hold your hands and give you a whirl but.
fuck, maybe you did expect that but you knew you were in the wrong to expect that.
so, you tightened your grip on the steel bar and took step by step, slipping but not quite falling, and you were okay with that for now.
"you know, you could've just asked me," you heard and peeled your eyes away from the floor to see yoongi in front of you, standing with amused eyes, concerned eyebrows and a smile that he held in tightly.
"yoongi, i'll kill you if you laugh at me right now," clearly you didn't look the least bit threatening to him because he immediately bursts into laughter, making the sides of his eyes crease with all his teeth in view.
you found yourself taken aback a little and paused to stare at this man so trapped in his joy that he doesn't notice how deeply you take in all of his features.
you didn't want to forget this.
you didn't want to forget seeing yoongi this happy.
"come on, you could've just grabbed me," he shrugs, and you scowl, "you know i can't do that."
anymore.
you couldn't do that anymore.
and it isn't until a minute passes that you wish you could swallow your words back but they were out in the world, and you watched yoongi's laughter fade as quickly as it came.
you always did this.
ruin the moment.
never let him stay happy.
steal his joy.
it was all so clear now, why he wanted to leave, why you two couldn't go on because you would always destroy it.
you shuffled your feet, watching the lines form on the ice, debating whether to just turn around and leave, to just head home, take down all the magnets and reassure yoongi that he didn't have to do them anymore.
he didn't have to deal with you.
anymore.
but yoongi was unfortunately, still yoongi.
"come on," and he doesn't wait for your response, your reaction, he doesn't study you so deeply, he doesn't look for signs of discomfort like you do, he only takes your hands in his, places one on your waist and you're gliding.
yoongi's grip stays tight.
the lines carve more deeply into the ice.
and somewhere in the middle, both of you are breathless and laughing in each other's faces.
you forgot everything about why you wouldn't work out.
because yoongi was always right, yoongi always found a way to make you happy, especially when you didn't want to be.
-
god, i love the way you look at me.
miami was hot.
you were now two months ahead from when you first started taking down the magnets, one by one.
miami was going to take one more down and soon, there would be none left on your fridge, and nothing to see yoongi for.
he arrived a day before you, you didn't ask why, you waited at the front of the airport, scanning the crowd to catch his hair somewhere.
and you caught him easily, your eyes always found him, it wouldn't have mattered if there were a thousand more people where you stood, you would still find him.
he walked up to you, lazy smile, hands in pockets, loose shirt sticking to some parts of his skin, forehead lined with sweat, and steps, fast and sure, towards you.
"it's bloody hot, isn't it?" yoongi said, and you were spellbound, yoongi in miami was more attractive than yoongi at home in sweatpants, and it took you a minute to recover your dropped jaw.
had his mouth always been this way?
drawing out words smoothly?
flushed and so ready to be kissed?
"y/n?"
you dug your nails into your palm to ground yourself, "yeah, so...hot, suffocating, really," you made a show of waving your hands to push some air onto your face until yoongi produced a small handheld fan from his pockets.
"i have one too, you really need it around here, let's go," he handed it to you and took your suitcase, walking ahead of you.
you swallow your desire, ignore the way his fingers brushing against yours felt, and catch up to him.
-
shooting stars, racing cars.
miami was sticky.
and windy.
you and yoongi watched from the window of your airbnb as the once irritating yet pleasant weather became gushes of wind that you couldn't even walk in.
"so?"
he seemed to ask you that a lot, 'where does it go from here?', 'what do we do?', silently letting you take the lead.
if only you knew where to go.
"i don't know, we obviously can't do the amusement park today," you shrug and sit on the bed, letting your shoulders roll back and wincing at the ache in them.
damn you, spirit airlines.
damn you and your reclining seats that don't actually recline.
damn miami and it's cursed weather.
damn yoongi.
damn everything.
"tired?"
"obviously," you snap and you expect him to snap back, you expect him to start a fight because god knows, you would have if he spoke to you in that tone.
but yoongi isn't like you.
at all.
he just sits down beside you and leans back on the bed, "rest for a bit, if the weather gets better, we'll do something or we can order dinner to here."
you are almost annoyed at how quickly that makes you feel better.
"we're only here for two days and you want to sleep?" you challenge him, basically begging to start something at this point.
he gives you a look.
yoongi never started a fight, it always left you feeling like maybe he thought you weren't worth the fight, that if he just nods and moves on, you'll eventually shut up and he wouldn't have to deal with you anymore.
but he never let you win a fight either.
and you were always trying to change that.
"what else can we do?" and you're huffing, turning away from him and shoving your face into the pillow.
but just because he didn't let you win, it never meant you stopped trying.
"when i'm sleeping, if you wanna meet someone else, you can do so, you know? i don't mind, we're not fully together or anything."
was it cheap to use your relationship's fragile status to start a fight?
yes.
will you stop?
no.
you needed yoongi angry, huffing and puffing, telling you to go away and never wanting to see your face again.
but yoongi was yoongi.
"you know that i'm going to be right here," he's turning the other way, and soon, your hotel room is filled with his snores.
you glared at the wall in front of you, wanting the roof to crumble on his head.
you would never win with yoongi.
-
baby boy, honeybee.
sitting across yoongi at a beachfront bar, sipping on your fifth martini and trying to enjoy the horrid weather, wasn't the worst experience in your life but it was close.
around your first martini, you told yourself you would stop.
around your second, you told yoongi that you would stop.
around your third, you swore on your life to stop.
around your forth, yoongi tried to ask you to stop.
around your fifth, you started to feel overly conscious of the fact that yoongi was stone cold sober and you were, well, close to being gone.
and also around your fifth, yoongi pulled away your glass and chugged it himself, making you giggle and lean on your palm to watch him struggle to drink it.
he hated martinis.
nothing better than a whiskey, was what he always said and if it was not whiskey, it had to be soju.
"let's get you a drink," you tried standing up and yoongi was already rushing out of his seat to place a hand on your elbow.
"i'll get it," he tried to sit you back down but you pushed back, "it's never fun to get your own drinks," you reasoned and pulled away from him to stumble to the bar.
you didn't have to look back to know yoongi was behind you, you didn't have to look to know that it was his hand on the small of your back, guiding you through people and keeping you close to him.
at the bar, you called upon the bartender, asked him for their strongest whiskey, and let yourself lean back into yoongi's touch.
it wasn't your fault that his touch was so warm.
it wasn't your fault that you weren't fully broken up.
and you were drunk.
maybe that one was a little bit your fault.
but it didn't matter because here was yoongi, here were you, and here was miami's humid breeze ruining your hair with each minute passing by.
and you didn't want to be anywhere else.
"chug it," you turned to yoongi with the glass in your hand, and almost reeled back at how he was already looking right at you, as if he was trying to piece your face together from behind you.
it takes a second for him to say anything but when he does, he laughs and shakes his head, taking the glass from you and sliding it back on the countertop.
"i think we've had enough."
"i didn't know your tolerance had gotten so bad, yoongi," he always took pride in his tolerance so, you knew you would at least get an offended glare.
but he gives you nothing.
he only shakes his head and starts walking away, which only makes your irritation surface closer to your skin.
'fine, i guess we're not doing anything fun anymore, let's just stick to what we came here for," you push past him to your table, gathering your coat, phone and purse with heavy breaths, trying not to let it sting so much, trying not to let it bother you so much.
but god, did it bother you.
and reminded you of everything that has changed.
you and yoongi used to drink nights away, and now, you're swaying in your step and he's one step away, watching your imbalance and wanting no participation in it.
"it's not like that," his voice cuts through the noise in the club but you ignore it.
your skin was hot.
your hair was ruined.
you were drunk.
and you wanted to be anywhere else but here.
"you know, it's not like that," his hand closes around your wrist and you pull it back, refusing to let it sit on you, refusing to feel his touch because you always only wanted it more.
"really?" you turn around and you hate the look on his face.
pity.
towards you.
towards your state.
towards whatever, it didn't matter.
was it so pitiful to want the ending to not be so horrible?
was it so pitiful to cling onto the last few days you would have with someone?
and was it so pitiful to still feel love and not have anything to do with it?
"then, what is it like, yoongi? tell me." you were nowhere near brave enough to hear the truth but you asked anyway.
"i just think we should get to our hotel safely, that's all," and he gave you your lie, your comfortable space to walk out of this conversation with some pride and dignity.
but they were always in tatters when it came to yoongi.
you heard some music.
you stared at yoongi's face under a million lights, somehow, he was brighter but that, that would be a secret you keep close to your heart, that you see light in him, that you glowed because of it.
and you grabbed his hand, pulled him towards where everyone else danced, and just stood there.
you saw him eye everyone else on the dance floor, and then his eyes closed in on you, and like every other time he looked at you, the rest of the world and the sky melted behind him, and it was only him, only him and you.
and some tiny hope that today wouldn't be the last time you would be in his arms.
"you can still dance right, yoongi?" you teased him, a smile growing on your face when his own lips try to fight one away, but yoongi was yoongi.
he might hate you now but he loved you once.
and even for just the memory of it all, he lets you sway him, force him to twirl, force him to twirl you, dance circles around him and poke his body whenever you could, just to see him smile again, just to see him shake his head at you one more time.
he pulls you close just for a second to whisper, "i never forgot."
for a second, the magnets on the fridge are once again a journey and not the end.
for a second, yoongi was yours again.
for a second, you were so happy, because yoongi was so happy.
and it was all so simple.
yoongi was yoongi.
he broke your heart sometimes but he always stepped up.
as a slower song comes on, he stops your flailing hands, he holds them to your side, breaks into a laugh when you try to wiggle away.
but you stand straighter than ever when his eyes soften on you, when his hands snake around your waist, his fingertips hesitantly pressing on the fabric of your dress, his hair falling forward as he took a step closer towards you, he didn't push away the strands, only sucked in a breath when you eventually tucked them behind his ears.
he takes one of your hands and holds it to the side, he lets his other hand tighten on your waist, you let your head fall into his chest, seeing his face was too much but hearing his heartbeat kept you steady, kept you alive in this moment you will have to forget later.
yoongi runs one hand through the length of your hair before pressing your head further into his body, he holds you close, closer and closest until you became him and he became you.
and you try not to squeeze his fingers to death, you try not to fall to your knees and cry out.
because you knew.
this was the last time he will let you get so close, this was the last time you can use being drunk as an excuse, this was the last time you and him would dance.
and you don't know if that thought scared him as much as it scared you.
-
let's just walk in the dark.
on the plane, you stare down at the city of miami, watched the buildings get smaller and smaller until it all disappeared under the clouds.
maybe you shouldn't have run, maybe you shouldn't have left yoongi behind but you couldn't help it.
waking up in the morning to his face, peacefully snoring, his arms, loosely wrapped around your shoulders and keeping you close and his body, wound around yours, made you panic.
it was hard enough, to do this, to think of waking up and not seeing him next to you and you could do without the constant reminder that every minute around him was one minute borrowed from the future.
and you were always so good at this, the running, the avoiding, never turning back and looking at the mess you leave behind.
from: yoongi
where the hell are you????
to: yoongi
plane, going back home.
from : yoongi
...
...
seen.
he left you on seen.
back home, you would answer to yoongi.
but for now, you close your eyes and pray that the magnets all disappear.
-
pick me up, walk me home, and it feels like god threw me a bone.
yoongi walked into the house and straight into your room, not even sparing a glance at you on the couch.
"yoongi?" you call out, getting up to follow him with your heart in your throat.
in the room, he has his head down, and he's removing each article from his suitcase, still refusing to look at you.
"are you not going to ask me anything?"
a beat passes where he pauses and you pause too.
and when he does speak, you wish he never did.
"should i?" he resumes unpacking, just to give you a stern glare and you feel like he might as well have punched you instead.
"actually no, can i even ask you anymore?" his bitter laugh that follows does nothing to quell your racing heart.
"what is that supposed to mean?"
"it means, since you've made it so clear so many times that i'm free to do whatever i want and be with whoever i want, i should probably let you do the same, right?"
he should have just punched you, yelled at you, anything but whatever was coming out of his mouth, would've been better.
"yoongi, what the fuck? no, it's jus-'"
"it's just, what?"
and you have no response.
no words.
some of the few times in your life that you've been rendered speechless, was always in front of yoongi.
"i couldn't stay," you admit and he throws a shirt back into his suitcase, "why not?"
you couldn't tell him that if you stayed, you could never leave afterwards, you would have always wanted his arms around you, his breath in your ear, as you slept.
that you couldn't live in any other way.
"i just couldn't."
yoongi stares at you, and you swear you see tears forming in his eyes until he's turning away, yet again.
"fine, then."
-
here's to hoping.
you thought yoongi would be done with you, with the magnets, with whatever nonsense was left.
but a week later, you get a message.
from : yoongi
aquarium magnet, tomorrow, 3pm.
and that's how you take the clownfish magnet down.
when you reach, he's waiting at the entrance with two tickets and you lift your hand up to wave at him.
he waves back with a small smile which has you breathing out in relief.
"wanna head in?" and you walk behind him, steps slow and hesitant, to make sure you don't crowd him or annoy him.
the aquarium magnet was yours, you and yoongi had watched 'finding nemo' one night and you just knew he would love the aquarium, you had been many times but never with him.
inside, you can barely contain your excitement and forget the whole 'try not to annoy yoongi' plan.
you point to every animal you pass, "and you know, technically pufferfish can puff up multiple times in their lifetime but it causes them extreme physical pain which takes them so long to recover from," you don't know if he's listening, you can't really tell because you avoid looking right at him.
"but so many of those videos have divers showing them puffing up?"
so, he was listening.
"yeah, it pisses me off, just for some viral video, they torture these animals," you puff out, the memory of those videos always left you in a rage.
yoongi gently leads you along.
you continue to dump random information on him, this was your magnet, so you felt responsible to make sure he had a good time, "they can keep most types of sharks in captivity but not great white sharks, did you know that?"
"nope, why is that?" his ever so patient, ever so indulgent voice fills you with the same relief that it always did.
because yoongi was always yoongi.
"they can die from hitting on the surface of the tanks, they can't make sharp turns like other sharks and they don't even eat in captivity, they've tried many times but they always fail to keep them in tanks."
"which is good for them?"
"hell yeah, that's great for them," and he's laughing with you.
you keep walking until you reach the final enclosure where it's just glass and so many tiny, small, big fishes swimming around, oblivious to the beautiful scene they create to whoever is watching.
you stand in front of it, oblivious to the scene you create for yoongi.
the light passing through the blue water falls on your face as if you belong in front of it and yoongi’s never been one to look away from you.
he watches you, trapped and free, he watches you until he remembers every moment that's lead the both of you to here.
"i can see you why you like this," yoongi whispers, afraid to break your tender attention to the fishes.
even with your keen eyes on them, you want to ask, if he likes it too, if it was worth it to bring the magnet home, if it was worth the text he sent, if it was worth anything at all.
but you don't.
"yeah, i do, a lot," you say instead and he smiles at you, an acknowledgment to your admiration.
"so, what's next?"
you think back to the fridge, how empty and bare it laid now, how lifeless it looked.
"only las vegas."
yoongi looks away at that.
when you come back home, you stare at the clownfish magnet until you're sobbing and then, you throw it in the trash.
-
shooting stars, racing cars.
by the time you were packing for las vegas, you were also packing up your belongings in the house, one by one, everything you used to share with yoongi, now was either lying in a box with your name on top of it or his.
In between all this, the neon las vegas magnet stayed hanging on the fridge, its presence too blaring or too invisible at times.
yoongi didn’t talk much during this, he packed and unpacked some things, left some of his belongings in your boxes sometimes, made food for you whenever he could but you never ate together.
even in las vegas, you landed at different times, and you didn’t have yoongi’s face waiting for you at the arrivals gate like in miami.
so, it was safe to say, both of you felt the change and both of you accepted it.
you only run into each other as you’re heading out for a group tour.
“oh, hi,” you gulp when he comes into view, and yoongi nods, “hello,” and it’s painfully awkward, too awkward for especially the both of you.
“great hotel, by the way, good pick,” yoongi offers and this time, you’re the one nodding, “found a great deal,” and both of you nod one last time before joining the tourist group.
the first day, you spend looking at all the overpriced, overrated and overcrowded places that everyone goes to, you barely talk to each other, save for a few photos that your tour guide insists to take for you two.
the second day, yoongi shows up hungover to yet another group tour and you spend the day holding his hair back whenever he pukes and shaking your head each time he apologizes, but by night, it being your last night, you decide to have dinner together.
which didn’t spell disaster until you were sitting in front of him, in your best dress, trying not to break with every second that passes by.
these seconds, were all you had.
these seconds, were the last of which yoongi would be yours.
and staring at his indifferent face to all of it, stirred something ugly in you.
"so, what's been up with you?"
yes, you lived in the same house.
and no, even if it's embarrassing to admit, you didn't know anything about yoongi's days anymore.
hell, the last time you properly spoke, was weeks ago.
“nothing much, routine stuff, nothing too exciting,” and you’re gritting your teeth at his answer.
he used to tell you even if he saw a funny-looking pebble and now, you got nothing.
“what about at work? they seem to be keeping you busy,” you press.
"well, i got a promotion," yoongi drops it so casually, and shrugs it off.
your fork almost drops on your plate but you hum with a tight smile and try to force excitement in your tone when you say, "congratulations!"
but you wonder if yoongi remembers his first promotion.
he had told you on the phone, breathless, excited, as if the world would collapse if you didn't know immediately, as if those were his last words and they belonged to you, he screamed, choked back sobs because he had worked his ass off for so long.
and you had waited at your door.
you had hugged him when he walked in.
you had cried in his arms and whispered, "you deserve it, you deserve it, you deserve it," into his ear until he nodded against your head.
you had gotten a cake and a singular balloon but that was enough for yoongi because holding the cake and balloon, was you and you were all he needed.
that night, he cooked your favorite food, even as you fussed about it being his day and he had kissed your temple when you ate it happily.
you were living, drowning in love.
and now.
"when did you get it, by the way?" you questioned, continuing to play with the food on your plate, yoongi sat back and thought for a second, "i think, three weeks ago."
and now, you were finding out three weeks after it happened.
"oh, wow," you don't hold the sarcasm in your voice and yoongi frowns, "is something wrong?"
"it happened three weeks ago, how am i finding out about it now?"
this time, it’s his fork that pauses.
he mumbles something, and then winces, as if he never meant to let anything out which only made you angrier.
"what was that?"
silence.
"yoongi?"
silence again.
you don't know if there's some invisible wall that was preventing him from hearing your voice but he doesn't move a muscle.
"fine, i'm sorry i asked, i know i have no right, i know we're at the end here but did i really not cross your mind? d-did we really get that horrible to each other?" you hate that your voice breaks and you also hate the flash of hurt on yoongi’s face but it only lasts a second before he’s back to being a blank slate.
“do you really want to talk about this?”
and there’s steel in his voice.
“i wouldn’t bring it up if i didn’t, would i?” you don’t try to hide the annoyance in your voice.
“so, you get to leave miami, not even bothering to text me about it and i can’t say anything. you can tell me to go and i don’t know, fuck around with other people because it’s okay, we’re at the end, none of this means anything, but if it really means nothing, why the fuck are we even here?” you try to catch yoongi’s pain in this, you only see his irritation which has your stomach squeezing for an entirely different reason.
you push back from the table, tears heavy in your throat and soon ready to flood your face and chest.
“if you don’t want to be here, then just leave.”
it was simple to you.
he could walk away.
he didn’t have to take down any magnets anymore; they were already done.
and you can walk away too.
-
a face i swear that i could spend my whole life knowing.
but it doesn’t seem so, to yoongi, who gets up and runs after you, calls out to you, all through the restaurant and then pushes past the door you so desperately try to close before he catches up to you.
“just fucking leave, yoongi!” you push against his chest when he finally breaks through and he grabs your wrist in his hands, never presses to the point of hurting because yoongi was yoongi.
but yoongi right now, fuming and heaving, wasn’t the yoongi you’ve known for years now.
“why did you leave miami? why did you not even tell me? is that what we've become to each other?" and when you struggle in his hold, he goes on, "you know how it felt! to wake up, and to not even see the dent of your body on the bed, to wake up, sick and worried, only to find out that you're already on the plane and then, you were home while i was searching every corner!”
you stop struggling, your wrists go limp in his hands, and your eyes burn with unshed tears, but you grit out, “i didn’t think you’d care.”
this time, yoongi’s the one loosening, his hands letting your wrists go and a singular hand comes up to wipe exasperatedly across his face.
“why?”
and when you don’t answer, he sighs, “i’ll do you one better, why can't we be together? why can't we work it out?"
the million dollar question that both of you ignored, until now.
the yoongi you know, would have let this go but the yoongi right now doesn’t back down.
“what’s happened to us that is so hard to come back from? what’s so bad about us?” you try not to let the pleading in his voice get to you, you try not to let the questions become daggers to your heart but one look at yoongi’s trembling fingers, breaks your resolve.
"because-" you look away because you don't think you can say it, you know he'll try to fix it if you do and you don't want to be fixed, you want to be free.
free of the guilt.
free of the worrying.
free of stealing from his happiness.
"you can't even tell me?"
"yoongi, i don't think i ever can,"
"why is it so hard for you to be with me?"
"yoongi, no."
“tell me, am i that horribl-“
"because i can never make you happy!"
the silence that follows, is deafening.
you watch as yoongi’s face goes from rage to concern to disappointment.
“why the fuck would you think that?” you're shaking your head, worlds and words blurring in your mind, everything spins inside and outside of you but yoongi doesn’t stop talking.
yoongi fights, and you never expected that from him.
“no, because i know when it started, it was when i got fired then, wasn’t it?”
a rock falls into your chest.
you remember that time.
you didn’t think that he did.
you would come home, and he’d be drinking.
you would peek into his bedroom, and he’d be complaining to someone on the phone.
and nothing you said, was what he wanted to hear.
nothing you did, seemed to help.
it was lonely to feel this helplessness, this helplessness of watching someone you love crumble and not have the courage to gather them in your hands.
thats when you knew, you would be over soon because if not in destruction, when else was love needed?
“you know what i’m talking about, right?”
you unfortunately, knew exactly what he was talking about.
because you pulled away too, not in a dramatic way but enough to give him space, which you thought he needed because right after giving him space, he got a new job and started thriving, in and out of home.
“you stopped talking to me, yoongi.” you told everyone and to yourself, that it didn’t matter if he stopped talking, if he stopped confiding, if he stopped loving you even, as long as you were together.
but it mattered.
it mattered almost too much.
"you stopped asking!" yoongi yells, for the first time in all the time you’ve known him, yoongi, your yoongi, yells.
the sound is devastating, his crest-fallen face after, even more so.
“and when you stopped asking. i-i thought you didn’t care anymore,” his voice reduces to a whisper and you almost catch the lone tear trailing down his face.
“you wanted me to ask?” the disbelief isn’t amiss to him and yoongi’s shoulders slump as he shakes his head achingly slowly, “always, i always want you to ask me everything.”
relief, was too weak of a word.
shock, an understatement.
grief, grief fit just right.
because none of this changed anything.
you were still in las vegas.
still on the last magnet.
“listen,” yoongi mumbles, the fight is exhausted, there’s no fuel, no fire and no oxygen left, it’s just you and him now.
“i love you, you know i do, and you know my best years are with you, why would i be with you if i wasn’t happy?”
and it makes sense, logically but to you, there is an answer.
“when was the last time you were happy with me, truly happy?”
“fuck, seriously? because for me, it’s even right now, i’m happier screaming down the walls with you than i’ll be anywhere else.” and he steps forward, you take one step backwards and his face twists in pain, but he takes another step, yoongi only hesitates for a second before taking your hand in his.
“why don’t you believe me?” his earnest eyes are hard to back away from but you know two things now.
you’ll never stop feeling like you were taking him from away from bigger, greater, happier things.
and yoongi was yoongi, he will never stop trying to make you feel otherwise.
both of you will fail.
you always thought the end didn’t have to be so bad.
because if it has to end, did it have to end so painfully?
but there was really no other way.
-
but even when i'm quiet, i love you baby, i promise.
you stare at the neon las vegas magnet hanging in front of you.
you’ve traced it so many times now that you know every line, every etching, and every color it has.
you and yoongi were done.
all of your boxes laid neatly by the door and you were finally on your last seconds with yoongi.
“you’re finished with packing?” yoongi calls out, coming into view and even now, the tenderness in his eyes makes you want to get a new magnet, hang it up, and forever have excuses to be by his side.
because isn’t it hard to feel the pulse of where love used to be and no longer hear it beat?
isn’t it hard to know how everything was and how everything ends up?
isn’t it hard to be so sure of someone, and still let them go?
it’s hard to know the ending and still stand defeated when you reach it.
yoongi was yoongi.
he was gentle.
he fought back when you needed it.
and now, he was letting you have your not-so-bad ending too.
you would always love yoongi.
you nod at him, smiling faintly and he smiles back.
but even a second more with yoongi, would dissolve it all, would ring the bells of hope and plant your feet into the ground next to him.
so, you don’t take a second.
you step forward, you take him into your arms, you let your fingers feel the skin on his nape once, twice and for the last time, a swipe across the back of his hand, to let him know, 'it was good, we were good, we were enough.'
you let him look at you for three more seconds, you ignore his tight grip on you just a millisecond before stepping back.
one.
two.
three.
and you.
you let him go.
and he.
he lets you go.
both of you leave the last magnet on the fridge.
i promise.
