genre: slight enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, eventual smut, classical pianist!yoongi, violinist!reader, they’re both actually really into each other but won’t admit it
warnings (for this chapter only): y/n has awful stage fright/performance anxiety, alcohol is mentioned, swearing, sexual references
summary: You know, when Min Yoongi’s face isn’t screwed into an accusatory scowl, he looks exactly like the kind of guy you’d have no trouble falling in love with. Or, the conservatory au where Yoongi helps you get over your stage fright. In more ways than one.
a/n: I’ve been reading fanfics for years and finally bit the bullet! I’m currently working on the other chapters and will have them up soon… and I promise there will be significantly more action in them ;) This is also crossposted to ao3, so you can check it out there too!
You know, when Min Yoongi’s face isn’t screwed into an accusatory scowl, he looks exactly like the kind of guy you’d have no trouble falling in love with. Even the back of his head is enticing as you stare at him in the middle of your Beethoven lecture. You struggle to focus to take notes on Beethoven’s genius deviations from sonata form, as Yoongi leans back and stretches his arms above his head. You wish you could see him from the front, see what his expression looks like when he’s not telling you to get the fuck out of his practice room. Instead, you settle for watching him bounce his leg up and down, now hunched over his notes.
Fuck, it’s been a long time since you’ve felt that uneasiness in the pit of your stomach. The butterflies start to bubble up every time you see him, even in passing. You’ve never been able to escape his presence on campus, seeing him everywhere but never actually speaking.
Any time you’ve seen him on campus, he’s always with Taehyung - Taehyung being the other violinist in the tiny music department. You see them often on campus, walking together between the cafe and the music building. You see Yoongi when he’s alone in the cafe, nursing a coffee and brooding over some orchestral score, or in passing when you’re run-walking between classes to reserve your favorite practice room before anyone else can. And since both of you are music majors in the same year, you’ve shared a majority of the music classes that you’ve taken up until now.
You wonder if he can see the longing written all over your face when you see him in classes, but he never spares you more than a second glance. If that. The most likely scenario is that he doesn’t know you even exist.
Whenever you see him though, all you can do is bite down the nervousness and replay the last (and also first) time that you spoke to him. The hard look in his eye, the way that he slammed the door in your face.
The first time that you talked to Min Yoongi, you could barely look him in the eye. And it’s not because he’s maddeningly gorgeous and even more intimidating. Well, a little bit.
The lack of eye contact had more to do with the fact the headache that had been plaguing you was starting to threaten your ability to stand up straight. Even through your blurry vision and the disapproving pout on his face, he was still so. Fucking. Hot. How was any of this fair?
The exchange you shared with Yoongi was just another incident in the long string of unfortunate mishappenings that one Tuesday morning.
