my favorite word is pigeon @jihopesjoint - Tumblr Blog

moments: connections

Summary: A series of drabbles featuring each of the seven members, about a moment of connection.

Pairing: OT7 x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Humour, fluff, angst, smut

Word count: 11.8 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, making out, oral sex, sex, vague exhibitionism

A/N: The day has finally dawned when a new fic arrives. I've decided that with how far the series has come and how difficult it is to find the time to write these days, I want to write more of what I call "capsule fics" - like this one, where every member gets featured and all their drabbles are connected thematically as well. We'll see how it goes :)

This can be read standalone, and can be read for individual members.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @faearchives @margopinkerton @purpleseoul7 @confessionsofamarshlily @jiminjhang @xjoonchildx @tarahardcore @infinitehobi @handfullofcandids @whoisbts @jihopesjoint @cuntessaiii @nightappple @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: "space song" by beach house

main masterlist

Seokjin June (Set a few months after One Down)

Seokjin’s thumb moves of its own accord, and the social media posts blur into each other. It seems pointless, scrolling through his friends’ and acquaintances’ lives, especially when his restricted hour to use his phone will come to an end soon.

Despite that realisation, he stays where he is, lying on his side and aimlessly scrolling. It was inconceivable, the first few weeks, that there were people continuing to lead their normal lives while he was here, but it’s less shocking now. His shared room is empty but for him; he should go outside, for it’s a cool evening in the middle of a hot summer. He should go outside, he should get some fresh air, he should mingle with the other soldiers.

But just the thought of it tires him out, so he continues scrolling, lamenting his mind turning to mush. He should get off Instagram, though - as he moves his thumb up to bring his apps tray down, he accidentally clicks on a notification that pops up the same second.

He groans silently as the screen goes dark before a cheery jingle starts playing, the familiar yet annoying sound of Words with Friends opening on his phone. He stares at the screen unblinkingly, waiting for the game to boot up so he can close it. The moment it does, though, the app informs him that a new game is ready to begin, with just the right number of players already there.

Better than Instagram, he decides wryly, and clicks on Start. Six players in total, and he goes fourth. He plays the word silent, frowning slightly as the app dings to signal ten points.

The next player, Player 5 - or Dr. Na, as per their username - uses his L to play library. It gets fifteen points, and Seokjin scoffs.

By the time his turn comes around again, the board is slightly more spread out, and he uses Player 1’s miles to play lonely. Eight points later, Dr. Na plays lament with his L and gets fifteen points again.

Seokjin frowns. It seems like a coincidence but nearly five rounds later, Dr. Na has used at least one of his letters and consistently scored higher than him. He waits for round eight and when his turn comes around, he uses Dr. Na’s Z to play zealot, and scores twenty-five points. With only a handful of options left, Dr. Na is forced to use his T to play truck, scoring twelve points.

In the middle of his dorm, Seokjin grins. Almost immediately, a tiny notification pops up on top of the speech bubble icon

Maybe it’s petty, maybe he’s a sore loser or maybe he’s just tired of talking to other soldiers he lives and trains with, but in a rare move, Kim Seokjin navigates to Dr. Na’s profile and clicks on the tiny speech bubble icon. From the empty profile picture template, he concludes Dr. Na is a woman.

Well played, is all she’s typed.

Seokjin chuckles softly. Learned from the best, he replies.

Good thing I’m not the competitive type.

Or I’d be in big trouble?

Or I’d be thinking about this mishap for the rest of the day. And I have a job where distractions are deadly.

Whew, that’s dramatic, he types, then pauses. But I’m not judging.

Yeah? What do you do?

He bites his lip. I’m a chef. And you’re… a doctor?

That’s your final guess?

Either that or you’re a huge James Bond fan.

How did you know???

Her reply comes out of nowhere, her surprise mirroring his own. He rolls over onto his stomach, feeling uncharacteristically smug at this seemingly correct guess.

Dr No is the best Bond movie, he informs her, and that is a hill I will die on.

Booo. It’s ancient.

That’s part of the charm.

One of my friends used to watch Dr No all the time too. He made me watch it so many times I swore I’d never watch it again.

And yet, it’s your username?

He can sense he’s caught her out; he can see her typing and stopping a couple of times. He looks at his watch and feels a fleeting disappointment; he’ll have to hand in his phone soon.

Guilty But the name works on a few different levels. But enough about my username

Mine is quite normal

Direct, you mean. You like gimbaps, I assume

In a manner of speaking

There’s a pause where Seokjin frowns, his heart skipping an uneven beat.

What did you say you do again?

Me? I’m a doctor. So you guessed right, I suppose Do you work at a restaurant I may have eaten at?

I don’t know I’m actually serving right now

There’s that pause again. Seokjin’s thumbs hover over the screen, but when he sees her typing again, he freezes, waiting.

And you like gimbaps?

My friend does.

A bell rings in the distance, startling Seokjin. He needs to return his phone; his heart sinks unexpectedly at the thought.

How are you doing? she asks. You know… serving?

I’m okay. It was hard at first but it’s getting better. What about you? I mean… you’re a doctor, right? How is that?

Tiring But I’m trying to eat healthy these days

That’s good I mean, as a chef, I approve

Thanks

Footsteps outside the door, and then a knock. “Dinner!” comes the voice. “Deposit your phones in the office on your way!”

I have to go, he types quickly, getting off his bed.

Oh, okay Take care

You too Sleep early maybe You know, since you’re tired and all

I’ll try But I was thinking I’ll watch Dr No again maybe

Yeah? Thought you hated it

Not that much apparently, comes her reply. It might be fun. You know, for old time’s sake.

Seokjin stops at his door. The game is forgotten; the multiple pings coming from the other players have been muted in favour of this impromptu conversation. Staring at his screen, he types in one last reply.

Have a gimbap for me

Without waiting for a response, he turns his phone off and steps out of the dorm.

—

Yoongi March; Set during Pretty Girls

Yoongi can’t feel anything; not his hands, not the cool air of the air conditioner, not the sofa in his studio. Or maybe he can feel everything - so much so that his nerve endings have lost all sensation, and it’s just Miso on his lap, her hands, her lips, her hips under his palms and the feel of her sighs against his skin.

Coming back to his studio had been a long time coming. After all the events of the day, after a painful couple of hours when she’d had to go back to Donghyuk’s studio and work, she’d returned. The energy was different this time around, though; despite spending all day together, it felt like the first time they were alone.

The small talk had been negligible, hardly even a formality. Yoongi hadn’t been able to resist pulling her in for a kiss and it seemed as though Miso had been waiting for a sign from him, for she’d begun unbuttoning her blouse instantly.

Yoongi had taken the initiative this time. Kneeling on the floor while she sat on the sofa, situated between her legs, he’d worshipped her. His brain was on autopilot by this point; the desire to see her pleasured, to see her with her guard down and show him how he made her feel was driving him as he gripped her thighs where they rested on his shoulders.

His intention had been to return the favour from earlier in the day when she’d sucked him off in the woods. But once she’d finished (moaning, sighing, wet in his mouth), she’d finally opened her eyes to face him, gaze shaky and cheeks flushed. She’d kissed him and steered him onto the sofa, one hand snaking down to his crotch and seemingly confirming something. With a hint of a smirk, she’d tugged his jeans down and straddled him.

Their breathing is in sync now, gasps of varying pitch and clothing scattered around his studio.

“I’m so close,” she whispers, her voice unlike anything he’s ever heard. Her fingernails dig into his shoulders as she increases the pace of her hips, and Yoongi nods in response, pulling her to him as close as he can, groaning as he feels her wetness coat his cock. He reaches up her pale, slender body with one hand, memorising the scent of her skin, the softness of her small breasts and the sensation of her lips brushing against his as she fucks him into the sofa.

Yoongi finishes seconds before her; their sighs of ecstasy mingle as he spills into the condom they’d belatedly remembered. Miso drops her head onto his shoulder and he presses a kiss to the side of her neck, breathing in deeply.

She pulls away after a few seconds. Her choppy hair is tousled and her lips are swollen, but she looks more exhilarated than he’s ever seen her. There are words on the tip of Yoongi’s tongue that threaten to spill out, but he senses it’s not the time.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Min Suga,” she says, her mouth tilting upwards slightly.

He grins and leans forward to capture her lips in a short kiss. “Just being a patient man, my love,” he murmurs, squeezing her waist before dropping his hands to his sides.

Miso’s eyes flicker briefly before she chuckles and clambers off him. They get dressed and clean up in comfortable silence; Yoongi watches her out of the corner of his eye, relieved when she doesn’t seem to regret their tryst at all.

“Are you releasing any more music soon?” she asks after a while, when they’re seated at his desk. She’s wrapped in the jacket he’d been wearing all day; she hadn’t asked and he was glad for that.

“I don’t think so,” he admits, clicking on a sound byte so a low, thumping sound fills the studio. “There’s just no time. Not with the tour and everyone else’s music.”

“You can always release it unofficially.”

“Yeah, that’ll go over great with the rest of the team. Maybe after I’ve enlisted,” he suggests wryly, “when they can’t do anything about it.”

She nods, leaning forward when her phone buzzes. “Ugh, it’s Donghyuk,” she mutters. It’s the third time he’s seen this reaction at the mention of her lead producer, and Yoongi takes it as confirmation that she and Donghyuk are friends.

“Yeoboseyo?” she says into the phone, sighing slightly. “Mhm. Yeah, no, I’ll do it tonight. Sure. Oh, I don’t -“ She stops abruptly as her eyes widen, before she sighs. “He’s singing,” she whispers to Yoongi, who can’t help but snort at the thought.

Miso puts the call on speaker and places her phone on the desk. The studio is now filled with the scratchy sound of a half-arranged instrumental and Donghyuk humming unintelligibly over it, complete with some rudimentary beatboxing.

Yoongi can’t help it; he covers his mouth with his hands to stifle his laughter. He leans forward and mutes the mic, turning to see Miso rolling her eyes but laughing as well.

“He’s a really good producer,” says Yoongi clearly, “but there’s a reason he, Namjoon and I were always at the bottom every month when we were trainees. It’s a good melody, though,” he admits, just as Donghyuk’s solo comes to an end.

“What do you think?” he asks over the phone.

Miso unmutes the mic, her hand snapping up to cover Yoongi’s mouth as he begins to laugh again. “It’s good,” she says. “Sounds a little too old school EXO to me, though. Not sure it’s the kind of sound they were looking for in the brief.”

“Ah, well. We can edit out some of the ad libs,” he agrees, the sound of a keyboard in the background. Yoongi nods emphatically and mouths no kidding, prompting Miso to slap his leg lightly.

“Anyway -“ She clears her throat. “Send me the file. I’ll try to work on it tonight.”

“You’re still in the studio? I thought you would’ve left by now.”

Miso catches Yoongi’s eye for a moment. “Uh, yeah, I’m still here. Just taking a break right now.”

“Right.” There’s a pause - a knowing, suspicious pause. “With Yoongi?”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows and he can visibly see Miso’s hackles rise. “Um… I mean, he’s here, too. In the studio. In the building. Why?”

“No reason,” he says nonchalantly. “Just that it’s clear you have a thing for him and I know he’s single, so -”

Donghyuk’s gleeful confession gets cut short abruptly when Miso grabs her phone and turns off the speaker, pressing the phone to her ear and instantly getting to her feet.

“Anything else you need?” she says loudly into her phone, facing away from Yoongi. “No? Yes, I will. Definitely. Goodbye, Donghyuk.” Swearing softly, she hangs up before gingerly making her way back to the desk.

Yoongi turns to his monitor as she nears him, quietly sinking back into her seat. He continues doing what he was doing when Donghyuk called, calmly moving files into the shared drive he was managing.

“Everything okay?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Totally,” she replies, her voice betraying nothing. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

It’s almost challenging, her tone. He turns to her blankly, raising his eyebrows. “Okay,” he says, turning back to the screen and clenching his jaw so his face doesn’t move against his will.

“Shut up, Yoongi,” she mutters, and Yoongi breaks. Turning to her again, he sees, for the first time, Kang Miso blushing. Grinning with his heart full, he twists his torso to face her and, hooking his hand underneath the seat of her chair, he tugs her to him.

“I’m totally single, by the way,” he confirms, leaning forward towards her.

“Yeah, no kidding,” she says, rolling her eyes - but they have a rare twinkle. Clutching the collar of his t-shirt mock-angrily, she accepts his kiss.

—

Jungkook Set the morning after The Sixth

It’s a beautiful morning. The sun is out, warm but not hot; the breeze is calm and comforting; the view of the Han is picturesque and as he pours himself a coffee, Jungkook feels like he could skip. It’s a beautiful morning.

He steps onto his balcony looking over the city, steam rising gently from the ceramic cup. He’s still in pajamas but hasn’t bothered to put on a t-shirt, armed with the confidence that he is simply too high up to be photographed by paparazzi.

Also, it’s tough to care about paparazzi on what is, genuinely, a beautiful morning.

He enjoys it for a few minutes, quietly sipping his coffee. He’d like to be here for a lot longer, but a shrill sound breaks through the calm and he cringes, dashing back into the kitchen to pick up his phone where he’d left it on the counter. Glancing at the screen, he rolls his eyes as he answers the call.

“Jimin hyung,” he says. “What’s up? How come you’re up so early?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” comes Jimin’s reply.

“I fell asleep early last night,” says Jungkook evenly, making his way back to the balcony. “I, uh… I was tired.” Without meaning to, he feels his face break out into a grin. “It’s nice to be up in the morning, though. The sky is all blue and clear. Oh, and you can hear birds chirping.”

“Birds?”

“Yes. You may want to try it sometime, hyung.”

Jimin evidently ignores this. “And why aren’t you responding to my texts?” he demands.

Texts? Jungkook brings the phone away and swipes over to WhatsApp, grimacing when he sees the several dozen messages from various people he’s yet to respond to.

“Sorry, hyung,” he mutters. “Didn’t end up checking my phone. What’s - wait, why are you up so early?”

There’s a moment where Jimin pauses. “I had a meeting. Listen, are you busy today?”

“Uh…” Jungkook glances back in the direction of his bedroom. “I don’t know. I might be. Why?”

“Do you want to go to dinner? I really want to try that new sushi bar that’s come up in Gangnam. Do you want to go?”

“Oh.” Jungkook frowns, mentally going through his entire calendar. “Not sure. Is it a work thing? Or just you and me?”

“Not just you and me,” corrects Jimin. “Sungwoon will be there, probably Hoseok hyung as well.”

There’s something that makes it sound like there’s more to that sentence. “Anyone else?”

“Well, Dilara is here, too,” says Jimin quickly. “She’s got a race this weekend so she’s here today…”

“Right.” Jungkook exhales silently, pressing his tongue into his chin. He needs to be rational about this, he thinks to himself, even as an old, feeble sinking feeling creeps into his stomach.

He hears a sound and turns, his heart skipping a beat when he spots Lia with the coffee mug he’d left outside for her, pouring the coffee he’d made. She’s wearing what looks like the oversized t-shirt he’d had on last night, a light grey one that reaches all the way down to the middle of her thighs. Her hair is tousled and splayed messily down her shoulders and it’s a few seconds before he realises Jimin has resumed speaking.

“Hey - hey, listen -” Jungkook lowers his voice and cups his hand over the receiver. “I have to go. I’ll call you later.” Without waiting for a response, he hangs up.

He turns back around to his original position, listening intently for the moment Lia pads onto the balcony, running a hand through her long hair.

“Morning,” she says, joining him by the railing, a foot’s distance between them.

“Morning,” he replies. “Sleep well?” He nods as she hums, and notices her gaze flicker to his arms and torso and bites his lip, satisfied.

“Hell of a view,” she says, but he can’t tell if she’s referring to the city. She tugs absently at the wide collar of the t-shirt and the tattoo at the nape of her neck is momentarily visible.

“You get used to it. Actually, no, you don’t,” he amends after a moment. “Dunno why I said that.”

“Thanks for the coffee.” Lia takes a sip and sighs softly. Jungkook gets the distinct feeling that she may be in the same space that he is - awake, comfortable, hopeful - and it makes him glad. “Wow. This is Seoul.”

He follows her gaze at the expanse of the city. “Well, part of it.”

“Well, obviously.” They exchange shy smiles.

“So,” she begins after a few moments, turning around and leaning back against the railing, “what does Jeon Jungkook do on his weekends?”

“Oh.” A little thrown by this question, he hums, gripping the railing and leaning backwards until the veins in his forearms pop. “Not a lot, actually. He usually works if he has to, or he catches up on, like… laundry and stuff. In fact, there are whole weekends where Jeon Jungkook doesn’t even leave his house.”

Lia raises her eyebrows, but he can tell she’s amused. The soft rays of the sun fall on her face as she looks past him and out at the city, and Jungkook wants to pinch himself. It actually worked. Weeks of respectful distance, letting her take the lead, taking on her challenge and winning that final date with her - it all actually worked.

“Any plans for the weekend?”

“Um -” He realises he’s staring and looks away, tossing his bangs out of his eyes. “Depends. Are you free?”

She smiles. “Maybe? There’s a chance I have to go visit a couple of friends. They just had a baby,” she adds by way of explanation. “So. Not sure.”

Jungkook nods. “Don’t babies sleep really early, though?”

“So I’ve heard.”

“And apparently parents of babies get tired, too.”

“Go figure.” She grins. “I’ll let you know how it goes,” she promises, placing her empty cup on the balcony table and stretching. “Do you mind if I take a shower?”

Jungkook shakes his head, watching her as she squeezes his hand and heads inside, her long hair straight and messy down her shoulders. I’ll let you know how it goes. Despite his attempts at staying cool, the words make his stomach leap. He gathers both their cups and goes back into the kitchen, when he remembers something.

Fishing out his phone, he scrolls to his chat with Jimin. He was right; there are nearly ten messages from his friend he’s yet to reply to, the last one being from just a few minutes ago.

Jimin [09:45] so will you come?? tell meeeeeeee JUNGKOOK

Jimin [09:50] it’s been a long time jungkook

Jungkook stares at the screen, trying to ignore the tiny trickle of guilt creeping into his heart. Just then, he hears the shower turn on in his en suite, and it disappears.

Jungkook [09:57] Maybe another time. Sorry.

—

Hoseok April; Set shortly after Pretty Girls

Hoseok leans back on the recliner and sighs hugely, stretching his shoulders before placing his hands behind his head. “You think if you move here, they’ll let you keep this apartment?” he asks, pressing his back into the plush fabric.

Chanyeol clicks his tongue, nudging him with a beer can and handing it to him, crossing Hoseok to sit on the beanbag. “I have to move here first. But the traffic here is just too much,” he adds critically.

“Please, you live in Busan. How is that better?”

“Busan isn’t as bad as Seoul,” pipes up Jimin, sounding a bit defensive as he takes a beer as well from Chanyeol. He’d tagged along after filming since Sooah had to work late, and he and Hoseok had come over to Chanyeol’s company accommodation while he stayed in Seoul on a two week assignment.

“I’d move here if Hayoung can, too,” says Chanyeol fairly, comfortably chugging down a quart of his beer.

“Do it,” instructs Hoseok. “Plus the train system makes going home a lot easier from Seoul than Busan.”

Chanyeol snorts. “When was the last time you took a train anywhere?”

Hoseok’s jaw drops exaggeratedly while Jimin laughs. “No train can compare to hyung’s Porsche,” he adds, reaching over from his place on the floor and patting Hoseok’s knee.

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“Make fun now, but someone needs a quick ride with the multiple aux outlet and charging point and suddenly I’m everyone’s best friend,” mutters Hoseok.

“We’re just teasing, hyung.”

“Well, partly,” chortles Chanyeol. “But coming back - moving to Seoul isn’t on the cards any time soon. Like, I’d probably think about it if… hang on -“

Hoseok frowns as Chanyeol leans forward, peering at something.

“Is that a hickey?”

He tugs at Hoseok’s collar and Hoseok jerks back.

“No, it’s not,” he says hastily, fixing his collar as Chanyeol resumes his seat, giving him an approving nod. Except it is, he thinks; naturally, the concealer the make-up team had applied for the shoot has come off. He pulls his collar away slightly to see beige streaks on the dark cotton and silently groans.

“So much for not having time to date because of your busy schedule,” says Chanyeol, grinning.

“I’m not dating anyone,” says Hoseok forcefully, panicking slightly now and meeting Jimin’s eyes, who’s pursing his lips and looking into the bottom of his can. “I actually don’t have the time.”

“Ah, well.” Chanyeol shrugs. “Looks like you’re having fun, though. It’s not a bad thing,” he adds when Hoseok rolls his eyes. “As long as you’re both on the same page.”

Are we ever. It’s incredibly ironic, for as far as he’s concerned, Chaeyoung is his girlfriend in everything but name. Aside from the fact that neither of them have ever used that word, Hoseok can’t think of any other term he can ascribe to her.

But right now, even thinking about it in Chanyeol’s presence makes him sweat. For the first time in nearly two decades, Hoseok can’t predict how his best friend would react to something. It’s a strange sort of handicap, especially when it involves a clandestine relationship with his little sister.

“We’re… yeah, we’re - we’re in the same place, pretty much,” he explains pathetically. “It’s… it’s going good.”

“That’s good,” says Chanyeol, sounding as though he means it. “You can bring her to drinks or something tomorrow night, before I leave. If you want.”

“Oh, that’s - that’s not a good idea,” says Hoseok immediately, shaking his head.

“Why not?”

He gapes and turns to Jimin, in a desperate and silent plea for help. Jimin’s eyes widen and he purses his lips again so his amused expression disappears.

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re that serious,” says Jimin, sounding surprisingly convincing. “I mean, I haven’t met her either,” he adds, as though he hadn’t brought Chaeyoung a boxful of ready-to-eat couscous from his trip to Los Angeles last month.

“Oh.” Chanyeol nods slowly. “Okay. Is it like a - what is it called now? A situationship?”

“Something like that.” Except I’m in love with her. I’m in love with your little sister and she’s the best part of my day and even though it’s a huge betrayal I can’t help it and I just know if I look you in the eye too long you’ll figure it out. That I’m in love with your sister. And that she probably loves me, too, even though she hasn’t actually said it yet.

Hoseok swallows, reining in the word vomit. He places his beer on the floor; there is no scope to risk that kind of liability right now.

“Interesting. Oh, you know who else is in a situationship kind of thing?” Chanyeol says suddenly, making a face. “My sister.”

Jimin places a hand over his mouth, and Hoseok can see his cheeks lift from where he’s sitting. He aims a kick at the younger member’s foot, glaring at him to be cool.

“She - really?” Hoseok clears this throat. “She told you that?”

“Oh, no, no.” Chanyeol gives a hollow laugh. “When I met her for lunch yesterday, her bag accidentally fell open and I had the great fortune of spotting a box of birth control pills.” He grimaces. “I could’ve gone the rest of my life without seeing that. Although, I suppose I should be glad she’s taking precautions,” he mutters grudgingly, taking another deep swig of beer.

In literally any other situation, Hoseok would’ve guffawed at the stricken expression on Chanyeol’s face. But nothing about this is funny - not to him, at least, for Jimin seems to be enjoying it greatly.

“Do you have a sister, Jimin?” Chanyeol asks.

“Oh, no. A younger brother,” he replies, emerging from his beer with a carefully set straight face. “Would’ve been nice to have a sister, though.”

Both Hoseok and Chanyeol jokingly grimace in unison, before the latter sighs. “It’s not bad having a sister,” he allows, “and Chae is… she’s a good girl. Too good, in fact, which is why I’m not too comfortable about this situationship thing in her life.”

Jimin nods seriously - too dramatically, in Hoseok’s opinion. “Come on,” he ventures, hoping he sounds nonchalant. “She’s not a kid anymore. Let her live a little.”

“I’m not stopping her,” points out Chanyeol, shrugging. “But she refused to talk about it, which isn’t like her. And, really, what do we even know about this hooligan?”

Hoseok chokes. “Hooligan?”

“I don’t know! She did live near Hongdae for a while, remember?” Chanyeol exclaims, leaning forward. “With that weird girl she went to college with?”

“Oh.” Memories return to Hoseok, of Sunmi, Ice and a neighbourhood out of an indie gang film. “Yeah, that was a shithole,” he agrees, shuddering. “It took me a decent bit of effort to get her to move away from there and with Sooah.”

“She and Sooah get along well,” says Jimin encouragingly. “Sooah’s apartment is a lot more leafy now and they’ve started having mimosa nights on Fridays where no one else is apparently invited,” he adds cheerfully.

Hoseok suppresses a smile, knowing this was Chaeyoung’s attempt at reclaiming her friendship with Sooah. Jimin had been sporting enough on the surface but there were a reasonable number of Fridays when Hoseok had received a message out of the blue saying wanna hang with varying degrees of desperation.

“Oh, that’s right,” says Chanyeol. “Sooah is your girlfriend, right?”

“Yeah,” answers Jimin proudly. “We’ve been together since high school. Kind of,” he amends when Hoseok gives him a look.

“Do you think she’ll know who this guy is, that’s macking all over my sister?” he asks, sounding a bit disgruntled. “If they live together and all.”

Jimin grins, while Hoseok closes his eyes and wishes for the ground to swallow him up. “I can ask her,” he says diplomatically.

“Do you even have to?” Hoseok jumps in. “I mean… doesn’t she deserve her privacy?”

“I’m not trying to invade her privacy,” argues Chanyeol, sounding affronted. “But she’s young and trusting and the least I should do as her brother is make sure she’s not being played by some guy looking for a little fun.”

“I don’t think -“ Hoseok begins weakly, but Jimin beats him to it.

“Hoseok hyung is pretty close with her these days,” he interrupts, ignoring Hoseok’s bewilderment at this random turn of conversation. “I’m just saying - I think he looks out for her a fair bit.”

“Of course he does; I’m his best friend,” says Chanyeol easily, making Hoseok’s stomach roll uncomfortably. “Chae is like family to him. But Jimin’s got a point,” he adds, leaning forward and nudging Hoseok’s knee. “Do you think you can find out more about this guy?”

“There’s an idea!” Jimin crows, looking thrilled.

Hoseok shoots a glare at Jimin before turning to Chanyeol. “I mean, I - I can try. I dunno,” he mutters, shrugging. “She probably won’t tell me anything.”

Chanyeol sighs and sits back. “Fine. Just - just make sure she’s okay? That she’s not being taken advantage of or something?”

Hoseok bites his lip; he recognises this tone, this specific tone that’s reserved for when Chanyeol reverts to the young boy making up for a lack of a mother and a father who didn’t pay much attention to his daughter.

“I don’t think you need to worry, hyung,” says Jimin, sounding the most sober he has all evening. “From what I know, this guy sounds like a decent person. And seems to like her quite a bit.”

He throws a casual glance at Hoseok, which Hoseok returns with a grateful nod of his own before changing the topic.

About an hour later, Hoseok returns to his apartment. He’s barely taken off his shoes when his phone buzzes.

Chae [21:15] Work took forEVER :(( Be there in 10

An involuntary smile creeps up his face and he replies with a string of heart emojis. He leaves the door unlocked and heads in for a shower, the day’s tiredness already threatening to get the best of him.

When he’s clean and fresh again, the en suite drowning in a cloud of steam, Hoseok towel dries his hair and heads out of his bedroom to the inviting scent of ramen. Following it to the kitchen, he sees Chaeyoung, barefoot and still in her work clothes with the Louis Vuitton hoodie he’d left on the sofa earlier today.

“Your apartment is too cold,” she complains when she turns around and spots him making his way to the kitchen. “And this is the softest hoodie I’ve ever worn,” she adds with a sheepish smile as he enters.

“Keep it,” he offers, reaching her and placing his hands on her shoulders to peer over her. “You’re cooking?”

“Well, I’m mixing,” she admits, pointing to the instant ramen packet next to the stove. “But I added bok choy and some minced lamb you had in the fridge, plus an egg for the end so in a way, yeah, I’m cooking.” She flashes him a proud smile and Hoseok’s heart skips a beat.

“Come here,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as she continues stirring. He buries his nose in her hair and inhales the flowery scent, closing his eyes and exhaling, his shoulders relaxing for the first time all day.

They stay there in comfortable silence for a bit, the only sound being the soft bubbling of the soup and the occasional metallic clang of the spatula with the pot.

“How was your day?” Chaeyoung asks after a minute.

“Fine.” He watches the ramen for a few seconds, the lamb turning a nice brown. “Had rehearsal, then filming and then hung out with Jimin… and Chan.”

Chaeyoung hums, but her slender frame tenses slightly. “How was that?”

“Well…” Hoseok sighs and steps away, waiting until she glances back at him. “He saw your handiwork,” he says, pulling his collar away from his neck.

Chaeyoung gasps, one hand covering her mouth. “Oh, my God,” she exclaims, half-laughing. “What did you tell him?”

“Oh, I evaded. You know, with Jimin’s help,” he answers, rolling his eyes. “And on a completely unrelated note, he said you are in some kind of a thing with some guy, too.”

“Oh, really?” Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows, looking angelic and doe-eyed. “He did?”

“He did,” confirms Hoseok. “In fact, he’s asked me to find out more about this mystery guy and report back to him. It took every bit of my strength to be normal.”

“But -” She frowns. “You suck at being normal.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” she says immediately, turning to switch off the stove before facing him again. “You get all flustered and stammer-y when you’re taken off guard - anyone can see right through you.”

“This feels great.”

Chaeyoung laughs and tugs at his hands, ignoring his sarcastic “no, please, continue”s and reaches up to kiss him on the cheek. “But I’m very impressed that you were normal,” she says finally. “It couldn’t have been easy, especially with my brother.”

Hoseok shakes his head. “It wasn’t. He’s one person who actually can see right through me.”

She bites her lip and frowns slightly. “You know…” She begins, swinging his hands absently, “you can always… tell him. I mean, I know it won’t be easy and it’ll be messy but…” Chaeyoung shrugs and looks at their hands. “It may not be the worst thing.”

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing,” he agrees, “but it might be close. At least for now. This is new and he won’t be expecting it… I mean, how do I just call him and tell him that his little sister, who I was an ass to for years, is my -”

He breaks off abruptly, his heart thudding when she narrows her eyes slightly, almost amused. You get all flustered when you’re taken off guard. He can’t help but agree with her, and it seems as though she’s thinking the same thing.

“My… reasoning for waking up in the morning,” he finishes, glad to hear his voice is at least steady.

Chaeyoung nods, apparently impressed. “Yeah, I guess that would be a bit out of the blue,” she agrees, shrugging. “And I kind of like this. That it’s just ours for now,” she murmurs, tilting her head up.

Hoseok reaches forward and kisses the tip of her nose. “I get that. Plus, your brother has started really hitting the gym recently so he’s kind of, you know -” He curls his arms and hunches his back “- jacked, so I’d really like to time it correctly so I don’t face any damage.”

She laughs. “He’s not like that. He knows I’m an adult, you know.”

“Think of it as self-preservation.”

“He knows I dated in college, so you’re not my first -”

Hoseok raises his eyebrows, something flipping in his stomach as her cheeks fill up with the lightest tinge of pink.

“- guy that I… cook for and spend the night with.” She winces and looks away as Hoseok snickers, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to him.

“Let’s wait it out,” he concludes, inhaling the scent of her hair again.

“Let’s wait it out.” Chaeyoung hugs him back. “You’ll have to suffer through more days like today, though,” she adds, chuckling.”

Hoseok clicks his tongue dismissively. “I don’t care,” he states, tightening his hold around her. “I’m happy.”

—

Jimin April; Set shortly after Pretty Girls

Jimin enters the apartment with a bang - literally, wincing as the door closes with a loud thud.

“Dude!” Sooah’s voice comes from somewhere behind the coffee table. “Careful!”

“Hoseok hyung ditched me,” complains Jimin, falling on the sofa dramatically. “And now I’m all alone.”

“None taken.”

Jimin frowns and leans across the sofa to see Sooah in tights and a sports bra, stretching on a yoga mat. Her hair is pulled back into an aesthetically messy ponytail, with a headband keeping her bangs out of her face. She looks like a dream and suddenly, Hoseok going back home doesn’t seem like a big deal.

“Didn’t go to yoga class today?” he asks, getting up and walking over to where she’s deep in a downward dog position.

“No, I got too late,” she mutters, sounding disappointed. “But I knew I’d feel guilty if I didn’t work out at all today, so -” She finishes her sentence by raising her leg into a graceful arabesque behind her.

“Turn your leg out a bit,” instructs Jimin. “It’ll help work your glutes as well.”

“I am turning it out.”

“No, you’re not. Wait -” He hops around behind her and wraps his fingers around her lower calf, slowly turning her leg out. “All the way from your hip, come on.” One hand trails down her leg and stops inside her thigh, gently squeezing it before helping her twist it.

Sooah chuckles. “Subtle, Chim.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m just helping you stretch,” he says innocently, stepping forward so he’s standing between her legs, his hips brushing against her crotch.

“Totally. That’s all you’re helping me - ow, Chim, that’s too high!”

Jimin jerks back just in time to avoid her leg as it comes down in a flash. She kneels on the mat and turns to face him with a scowl.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously what?” He whines, joining her on the mat and lying down, pulling her down with him. “I’ve missed you,” he mutters, squeezing her waist and nuzzling her neck.

Sooah sighs as he throws a leg over her hips. “I missed you, too, sweetie. You know, since… yesterday.”

“Too long,” he says, hearing his voice muffled.

“Fair enough.” She pats his hand. “What happened?”

“You smell nice,” he says instead.

She scoffs. “I’m sweating, you weirdo,” she retorts, pushing him away slightly so she’s facing him. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he begins, sighing hugely. “Hoseok hyung had to lie his way out of admitting to Chaeyoung's brother that they’re banging and while it did seem like he was pretty close to passing out, I guess it was kind of…” He squeezes his eyes shut to think of the word and opens them to see Sooah’s face inches away from his own, propped up on her elbow.

“Kind of…” She prompts, raising her eyebrows.

“Kind of cute,” he finishes, turning on his side to mirror her position. “They’re new to dating and they’re hiding it and everything…” Jimin trails off, suddenly aware that he’s pouting.

“Chim,” says Sooah, tugging at the strings of his hoodie, “are you asking me, in a very roundabout way, if our relationship is still exciting?”

“No! No, no, no, no, no -” Jimin breaks off, feeling the heat creep up his face and leans forward, nudging her on her back and rolling on top of her. “I know our relationship is still exciting. I’m dating Kim Sooah,” he informs her.

She flicks his temple, chuckling fondly. “Yeah, but we’re not hiding our relationship from anyone. Except, you know, the world.”

“I don’t want to hide it from anyone,” he declares. “I’ll tell everyone - I’ll put it up on Instagram right now. Don’t doubt me, Kim Sooah.”

“Never, Park Jimin.” She pats his shoulder. “Alright, get up. I have to go shower.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, just stay here,” he whines again, letting his arms buckle and collapsing on top of her. “Tell me you think our relationship is still exciting,” he demands, trying to keep a straight face over Sooah’s laughter.

“God, Chim - I’m under you!” she exclaims, half-giggling. “Get off!”

“Not until you say it. Say it, say it, say it - whoops, deadweight -”

“You’re crushing me -” Her hands go down to his torso and her fingers find their way under his t-shirt.

“First you have to - no!” He laughs involuntarily, half-shrieking as she tickles up until he rolls off her onto the yoga mat. “That’s cheating!”

“Deadweight is cheating,” she counters, getting to her feet and ruffling his hair before heading into the bathroom. When she returns twenty minutes later, she walks into the living room and halts. “Seriously?”

Jimin tilts his head back in the cobra pose. “Stretching just looked so good,” he admits sheepishly. He moves into a pigeon pose, one on each side while she heads into the kitchen and comes back with a bottle of cold water. Finishing up with a nice hamstring stretch, Jimin stands up and joins her on the sofa.

“Hi,” he says, placing an arm around her shoulders.

“Hi,” she replies, smiling up and leaning into him. “What’s up?”

“Not much. Just had a long day. Or I didn’t, actually,” he says a moment later. “But I’m still tired. Dunno why.”

Sooah frowns as he speaks, squeezing his thigh affectionately. “Have you eaten today?”

“Yeah, some. Had some sushi earlier today. And then a slice of pizza at Chanyeol hyung’s.” He pulls her in a bit closer and rests his chin on the top of her head. “I don’t know. Just one of those days, I guess.”

“Yeah.” She traces random patterns on his thigh for a few seconds, both of them just drinking in each other’s company in silence. “You know what might make you feel better?” she asks after a moment.

“What’s that?”

She pulls away slightly so she can look up at him. “I was thinking about it today, anyway… and it might take your mind off everything,” she adds, raising her eyebrows and shifting so she’s sitting on her knees.

Jimin frowns as she presses a light kiss to his lips. “I’d love to… but I’m honestly really tired.”

“Oh, I know.” She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to do any of the work. You just need to sit back,” she says, standing up and gently pushing him back against the sofa, “and relax.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jimin sits back on the sofa, his head resting against the back of it with his eyes closed.

“God, you were right,” he murmurs. “This is actually so relaxing.”

“I know, right?”

He feels her reach over and straighten the edge of his face mask, soft and fragrant against his skin. The cucumber slices feel light and cool on his eyes and he brings the glass to his face, searching for the straw and sipping the fruity mimosa.

“Sooah,” he says, hearing her hum. He searches for her hand on the sofa and slips his fingers into us. “You know you’re the most exciting person I know, right?”

She chuckles softly, sounding just as cosy and comfortable as he feels. “Yeah, skincare nights really get that adrenaline going.”

“Totally,” he jokes back, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing it. “Best kind of night.”

—

Taehyung April; Set a month after She’s In The Rain

The day is young, and the air is ripe with hope, potential and expectation. Up ahead, the track clears as mechanics, team principals and the press drift away, leaving the path ahead long and winding, with nothing but sixty odd laps between her and P1. Anything can happen.

Her brows furrow slightly. She knows the track and she’s raced hundred of laps around it; she knows what it’s capable of. It’s given her mostly good races, but at the core of its design, the potential is rife for chaos.

Bang.

The door is thrown open with force and kicked close as they stumble into the room. Their lips don’t leave each other’s, only passion and reckless abandon driving their movements. Taehyung pushes her back against the wall, swallowing her gasp, tightening his hands on her hips as she pulls at his sweater.

“Are we still fighting?” he asks against her lips. Their hands are everywhere - only part of his brain can even focus on the words he’s saying. “Because we should - probably - talk about it,” he says, punctuating every word with a kiss to her skin and helping her take off her long-sleeved t-shirt.

“Forget it,” she murmurs, kissing him back, her chest pressing against his. “I can’t even remember what we were fighting about,” she says, sighing when he nips at her lower lip and tugging at his sweater again. “Take this off.”

They stagger further into the room of their BnB, hands everywhere and articles of clothing being discarded at every step. The Scotland rain outside comes down in sheets, white and thick, the sound deafening. Their room is warm in comparison, dimly lit with just the fireplace going, the huge bed taking up most of the space on the wooden floor.

The speed is… fast. She’s like the wind; she feels one with the wind, until another car appears in her side mirror and she knows she has to buck up. Push, they tell her on the radio, and she tries. But other drivers know to push as well and she knows she has to try something different. Maybe with the tyres, or even a surprise pit stop. She needs to be in control.

Taehyung feels himself hard against her waist, her fingernails scraping against his scalp before they snake down his bare torso, her hands on every inch of skin. She nips at his lower lip and his grip on her hips tightens, before he wraps one hand around her thigh and lifts her off the ground. Her sound of surprise is so arousing; she tightens her arms around his neck as he brings them to the bed, lowering her onto it when she pulls away and stops him.

“One second,” she mutters, panting and swinging her legs off the side of the bed. Taehyung frowns in confusion as she pulls open the drawer on her bedside table and retrieves something before tossing it to him without warning. He catches it without difficulty, though, noting how glassy her eyes already are, her nipples erect and her lean, tan midriff the colour of honey.

He wants to devour her. He wants to worship her till the end of time and it’s only when she raises her eyebrows and tilts her chin at the object that he looks down to see his Polaroid, the one she’d gifted him years ago. Taehyung meets her eyes, silently confirming if she’s asking him what he thinks she’s asking. In answer, Dilara tosses her long curls off her shoulder and holds his gaze, eyes blazing.

He stares at her for a moment before raising the camera. Click. He doesn’t wait to check the picture that’s come out; letting it fall to the floor, he walks over to her to kiss her again, one hand still holding the camera. He lets himself be steered onto the edge of the bed where he sits and Dilara goes down on her knees. The moment her lips touch his cock, his breathing stutters and his eyes flutter shut. Snaking one hand down into her thick hair, he looks down to see her eyes on him as she sucks him off.

Click.

Cars are speeding around the track now. She can see them through the slit in her visor, across the misshapen circuit, most of them behind her. The competition is at its peak now and everyone is racing to win. Rainclouds appear in the sky and there’s a moment of panic, but she powers through. She makes split decision after decision, choosing to change her tyres, choosing to come into the pit at a risky moment, but committing to each at every point.

It’s exhilarating. Every rainy lap is closer to the finish line, closer to a win, closer to the art of racing in the rain. Even the spray clouding her vision from the only car in front of her is a challenge, brings her closer to the car and to the sport she’s given everything to.

The rain lashes outside, so loud that Dilara’s sounds almost get lost in the din. The bed and floor are littered with pictures, all in different stages of development, but Taehyung hasn’t stopped to look at a single one. Her back is beautiful, curving before him with long locks of hair flowing down them. He holds her hips as he moves, his grunts and her whimpers in sync, so messy, so transcendent.

Click.

The camera whines as another picture comes out, but he ignores it as she crawls forward and turns to lie on her back. She beckons to him, her neck and chest glowing with a thin sheen of sweat, her breathing rapid. Taehyung lowers himself to kiss her, their naked bodies flush against each other as he slides into her again, wet and warm, and she moans into his mouth.

“Faster,” she whispers against his mouth, lifting her hips off the bed into his so he bottoms out. He obliges; he’s raring to go, every thrust bringing him closer to edge. Dilara closes her eyes as he sits up slightly so he can pound into her faster, one hand clutching the pillow and the other moving down from her hair to her breast, squeezing it lightly as he continues to fuck her.

Click.

He drops the camera to his side, all his focus on her now for this last bit. Her legs wrap around his waist; he unhooks one to bring in over his shoulder, leaning forward so he can watch her come undone, moaning loud and long as she finishes on his cock, her back arching until she falls back on the bed. Taehyung begins moving again, her wetness and residual whimpers keeping him going until she opens her eyes and he meets them, dark and blazing, and he pulls out at the last moment, emptying himself on her lean, smooth, honey-coloured torso.

Dilara rests her head on the pillow, panting and closing her eyes. Taehyung catches his breath, his eyes running over the strips of white over her body before he reaches for the camera.

It’s a win. It’s indescribable, every single time. No matter how exhausted, no matter how stressed, it’s all paid off because it’s a win. There’s a trophy, there’s applause, there’s adulation, there’s validation that she belongs here after all, that this was where she is meant to be, this is what it’s all been for.

Her heart hurts, but it’s not a bad pain. She wants the win, every win, and she wants to be in the sport, for her love for it knows no bounds. She gets emotional, too, standing up on the podium and holding the trophy up high, knowing she would do anything for this feeling the rest of her life. She loves it, she craves it, and she can’t live without it.

Taehyung sits by the edge of the bed, clothed in a flimsy white button down and baggy joggers, the stack of pictures in his hand. The sky outside has darkened but the rain is as heavy as ever. The glow of the fire before him flickers calmly in contrast on the first picture he picks up, of Dilara on the bed, naked and kneeling, looking just above the lens of the camera. The dark spot on top of her breast is the beginning of a hickey; he gazes as it for a few seconds before calmly tossing it into the fire.

He flips through them silently, images of their tryst borne from a moment that was initially headed elsewhere. She’s right; he really can’t remember what they’d been fighting about. The pictures are in no particular order, some of them more haphazard than the others, but each capturing moments of passion that can’t be explained in anything other than stills taken by a camera.

She’d gifted it to him right before their first date, he remembers suddenly, as he watches one of the last pictures curl up and blacken in the fire. We’ve come a long way, my love. The shower inside the en suite stops just as the last, lone picture remains in his hand, taken after they’d cleaned up and he’d climbed off the bed. Dilara had sat up on her knees among the sheets, looking out at the expanse of the Scottish highlands and the torrents that drowned it.

He’d watched her for a few seconds, taking in her silhouette against the grey landscape outside. It was a sight worthy of committing to memory, and he’d raised the camera for the last time and snapped a picture of her.

He’s interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps and he turns to see her walk out of the en suite, her curls tied up in a bun and the rest of her wrapped in a towel, droplets of water still glistening on her shoulders. Taehyung hadn’t heard the sliding door open; he wonders how long she’s been standing there but then she gives him a small smile, and he returns it. Slipping the picture into his pocket, he steps out of the room to allow her to change in privacy.

There’s nothing like winning. The feeling stays, the pride remains and there’s hope. But there’s also a moment, a time of the evening after the race where the celebrations are done and the congratulations have dried up, that the race starts being replayed, and the risks and gambles come back into focus. And then there’s the feeling - no, the knowledge - that this isn’t the end. This is a race, just one race, but the rest of the calendar is yet to come. It’s grounding in reality like nothing else, and the win is diluted.

Taehyung watches the rain, now a bit slower but still coming down, dry and toasty in a tan sweater in the balcony of their room. There’s a song in here somewhere, Namjoon would say and he’d probably write it, too. Taehyung tries to do the same but every word he thinks of, every line or rudimentary melody is tinged with sadness so he quickly abandons the exercise.

He feels a soft nudge on his arm and turns to see Dilara join him, a small glass of whiskey in each hand. Her hair is loose again (and he guesses it’s to shield her face and neck from the cold), and she’s covered up with a Red Bull hoodie and grey joggers.

He takes the whiskey she offers, kissing her softly on the cheek as she comes to stand next to him. Dilara looks like she’s about to say something; Taehyung gives her his full attention, waiting. A few moments later, though, she gives a small shake of her head and leans into him, waiting for him to wrap an arm around her as they watch the rain together.

—

Namjoon January (Set a couple of months after A Stormy Night)

Namjoon takes a deep breath. None of this was going according to plan.

The restaurant was highly rated, the ambience cozy and warm, Kaya's two other classmates-turned-friends had reached on time, Taehyung and Dilara had successfully picked up the birthday cake, the birthday girl looked like a million bucks and the jazz singer playing in a different area of the restaurant was just adding enough to the night without being disruptive.

And yet, somehow, despite all his efforts to make tonight about her, within the first hour of the classy and intimate birthday dinner he'd planned, the restaurant had become overrun with guests, some of them clearly famous, and noise and singing and generally the opposite of cozy and intimate.

It may still have been okay, given they were in a corner of the restaurant not directly in view of the entrance. But Dilara had invariably been recognised which only served to increase the excitement in the place - Namjoon had deduced from the general atmosphere that the dozen guests that had arrived at once were some kind of sports team that were being celebrated, and Dilara's presence was only adding to it.

Maybe she senses his train of thought, for she catches his eye from where she's awkwardly posing for a picture with two of the sports team members. She shoots him an apologetic look and makes her way to him the moment the picture is taken, ducking her head slightly as she passes othr guests.

“I'm sorry,” is the first thing she says, sighing. “It's the England cricket team. They just won the Ashes and… it's a pretty big deal. Nobody thought they would.” She folds her arms across her chest and lightly bumps his shoulder. “Is Kaya okay?”

“Yeah, she's fine,” he mutters, turning slightly when he spots his girlfriend exiting the ladies’ room, fluffing her long hair over her shoulder. “And… don't be sorry,” he adds, sighing. “It's not your fault. I just had such a specific vision of how this was supposed to be, you know? Hey,” he says with forced cheerfulness when Kaya reaches them.

“You're annoyed,” she says immediately, and Dilara stifles a snicker when Namjoon frowns exaggeratedly and shakes his head.

“What? Of course not. Why would I be - okay, fine, a little bit.” He looks away when Kaya grabs his hand lovingly and squeezes it. “I just wasn't expecting…” He trails off, gesturing vaguely to the chaos in the restaurant. A little way away, Taehyung is in an animated conversation with one of Kaya's friends who'd rushed up to take a selfie with one of the cricketers. There is free-flowing beer and tipsy toasts being made in honour of the team, and one of the cricketers seems to be getting pressured to get up on the stage, with “Sing, Brody, sing!” chorusing over and over by a handful of people.

“It's not that bad,” says Kaya. “It's a little louder, but…” She turns back to the table where the remains of their dinner is yet to be picked up by a waiter. “The food was amazing. And I know you loved the whiskey sour you ordered.”

“Sure, but…”

“If it helps, I think the team looks kind of annoyed by the attention,” guesses Dilara, waving hesitantly when someone comes up to them and squeals at the sight of her.

“Come on, it could be worse,” says Kaya to him, her voice lower. “At least you guys weren't recognised.”

Namjoon nods, acknowledging this begrudgingly. Taehyung, who had already made friends with the waiter and the hostess even before the dinner had gone south, is now standing with the same friend of Kaya's and another cricketer, singing along to the soulful song that this Brody is now singing slightly off key on the stage. There are people across the restaurant who are filming him, looking beyond thrilled at the sight, and a gaggle of girls doing an exaggerated groupie bit at the handsome cricketer.

Namjoon feels his mood sour with every passing minute, even as Kaya leans against him and taps her foot absently with the music.

“You don’t have cricket in Korea, do you?” she asks after a few minutes, absently.

“Nope. Kind of glad about that right now. Or maybe not,” he adds suddenly. “At least then I’d know what the big deal is.”

Kaya gives him a look. “It’s not that bad. It’s a bit of extra people and a little more chatter and -“

She breaks off and both of them wince at the sudden uproar of a victory song being sung by the entire restaurant. A redheaded cricketer is being grabbed by two of his teammates by the shoulders and the three grown men, arm in arm, are doing some sort of dance as they hold jugs of beers with their free hands.

Namjoon exhales slowly through his nose. From across the room, he spots Taehyung apparently starting to realise what he already has, that this night is no longer salvageable. He catches Namjoon’s eye and, like his girlfriend a few minutes ago, he makes his way over apologetically.

“Sorry, hyung,” he says as soon as he reaches, handsomely tossing a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. “The captain’s wife -“ He points to a blonde lady laughing at talking to another woman “- said they’re celebrating and in her words, they’re just warming up.” He purses his lips sympathetically.

Kaya punches his shoulder as if to get him to shut up and then turns to Namjoon, ignoring Taehyung’s dramatic gasp. “It's not a big deal,” she repeats clearly, raising her voice to be heard over the noise. “It's not even that bad - maybe we should go and dance or -”

But she's interrupted once again by a loud screech of feedback from the mic. They look over to see a young member of the cricket team up on the low stage, tapping on the mic and looking thrilled with the attention. He can't be older than twenty-one; something about his cocky lopsided grin makes Namjoon's blood boil.

The cricketer starts off with a speech, slurring a bit but clearly saying all the right things while people switch between hooting and paying rapt attention. A little way away, Namjoon spots Dilara listening as well, clapping once in a while as well; it's the only thing that calms him down slightly. He hasn’t watched a day of cricket in his life, but he can recognise a big win when he sees one, no matter how begrudgingly he may admit it.

The speech ends with a few more cheers and some hooting and before they know it, another round of Brody, Brody commences and the same handsome blue-eyed cricketer is pushed up on stage by some of his teammates, where he bends slightly to talk into the mic.

Namjoon rolls his eyes as he begins rhapsodizing about their win, knowing somewhere that he’s coming off as disgruntled and extremely unattractive. As if on cue, he feels Kaya link her fingers with his.

“Come with me,” she mutters. Without waiting for a response, she begins maneuvering through the crowd and pulling him along, until they’re out of the restaurant and in the cold hits him like he’s been plunged into an ice bath. Exhaling and seeing his breath come out in mist, he looks up in confusion to see Kaya pull her coat tighter around her.

“Okay,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “What’s wrong? Because this can’t all be about one ruined dinner. I know you have a thicker skin than this.”

Namjoon considers lying. But one look at Kaya, her dark eyes and teacher-like expression, and something tugs at his heart.

“I wanted to give you a nice birthday.”

“It was nice,” she says instantly. “The food was amazing, we got lucky with Dilara and Tae being here the same weekend as my conference, you’re here -“ She sighs and drops her arms to her sides. “We’re in London in January and happen to be out on the one night that it’s a little less freezing. So… what is it?”

Namjoon looks away, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The streets are deserted and the river rumbles in the distance, the only sounds coming faintly from inside the restaurant. He wants to tell her - but if they go down this road, there’s no coming back.

“I wanted this birthday,” he says slowly, swallowing, “to be a nice birthday.” He waits as her frown deepens and then fades away, the realisation dawning. He looks at the ground; even admitting it feels like defeat of a kind.

“Because you won’t be here on my next one,” she says quietly, nodding.

“Or the one after that. Not unless you come to Seoul and I take a vacation day on the same day, which is -” He shrugs, biting his lip. “And it’s not going to be like previous birthdays we’ve spent apart, where I can still do stuff from another country and - and have a date on video call or something. This is going to be - I’m going to miss -”

He breaks off, pressing his hands to his forehead in frustration, knowing he’s effectively ruined the night more than any number of cricket teams by bringing up this topic.

Kaya comes closer; he can hear the click of her heels as she slowly stops in front of him. “You know that I know you don’t have a choice, right?”

“I know, but -”

“So if you’re thinking that you’ll be a bad boyfriend or if you think I’m thinking that, just stop. Namjoon, I know you’re struggling with this and I don’t blame you. I have no idea what it’s like for you,” she admits, reaching up to bring his hands down. “And I’m not asking you to ignore your feelings or to pretend like everything’s great, but I need you to…” She bites her lip and he can tell she’s debating whether to say it.

“Need me to what?” Namjoon asks warily.

“I need you to try,” she says softly, squeezing his hands. “Just try to see the good, try to find a happy moment when you can, because…” She licks her lips and he does a double take when her eyes suddenly shine and they look wet. “Joon, I’m worried for you. I don’t know what it’s like but I can’t imagine it’ll get easier if you’re so hard on yourself all the time.”

It’s a lot to unpack. For a moment, Namjoon wants to break down, right here in her arms and ask her to take him home, far away from all his responsibilities. But that would only worry her more and in any case, it’s a crazy thought. So he closes his eyes and presses his forehead to hers.

“I’m happy now,” he mutters, smiling a little when she scoffs.

“Yeah, you really look it.” But she leans into him as well before reaching up and kissing him. “Now that I’m officially in my thirties, I can safely say I have a lot more life experience than you, little one. So you have to listen to me.”

That makes him laugh. He tugs her closer and wraps an arm around her waist, the other automatically taking her hand in his. “I’m dating an older woman now, officially.”

“You were dating an older woman the day you asked me to be your girlfriend,” she points out, her face easing up slightly. “Actually, it wasn’t too far from here, was it?”

“It was in front of the Langham, so, yeah.” He nods as a guitar begins playing inside the restaurant and their feet move automatically, steps small and uncoordinated. “I found a happy moment that day,” he murmurs into her hair, inhaling the coconut and vanilla scent.

“Yeah, you did,” she agrees. “Wasn’t that hard, was it?”

“Are you kidding? I was so nervous. I was just a kid and you were this sexy older woman that was completely out of my league.”

“Okay, we’re going to stop saying older woman now,” she decides, moving away slightly and looking up at him with narrowed eyes. At that moment, a familiar voice drifts from inside. She raises her eyebrows and smiles. “The kid’s got a great voice.”

“You should hear him in the shower,” says Namjoon, but nods in agreement as Taehyung’s baritone singing a jazzy blues song lights up their little corner of the street.

“Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone, okay?” he murmurs after a few moments, into her hair again. He feels her stiffen slightly but then she nods into his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I won’t miss you at all,” she assures him. She stops moving, however, and slowly steps away. “Do you want to get out of here? Go get a hot chocolate or something? Because I’m fucking freezing.”

Namjoon can’t think of anything he’d like more than to be with her alone. “I’m in,” he agrees, linking his fingers with hers. “Just need to make one phone call.”

Inside the restaurant, Dilara nods into the phone. “Yeah, no problem,” she says, smiling as she catches Taehyung’s eyes where he’s on the small stage, crooning away to John Baptiste. “Don’t worry, Namjoon, I know you’ll pay me back. I know where you live,” she teases. “You guys have fun.”

As she hangs up, she leans against the wall and watches her boyfriend, tall and handsome, singing in the dim lighting. The celebration has now mellowed to a nice, festive evening and she requests a passing waiter for a glass of wine. One of the cricketers she’d taken a group photo with joins her, looking happy and winded.

“This might be the one spot in the whole place where you can get a moment of peace,” he remarks, running a hand through his black hair and turning around to lean against the wall like she is. “Hope you don’t mind?” he asks belatedly.

“Not at all. Congratulations, by the way. Brody, I presume,” she ventures, raising her eyebrows as he nods good-naturedly. “Right. Seems like you were a big deal in this tournament.”

“Just a bit. But everyone was,” he replies easily. “You didn’t watch?”

“Oh. Um, I followed it a bit here and there. I don’t get a lot of time to watch television,” she admits sheepishly.

“No worries. The parties are better than the matches,” he points out. “Must be the same for Formula One, I assume. Komyshan, right?”

Dilara nods, her face getting hot and the embarrassment at her lack of awareness of cricket increasing. “That’s what the commentators call me.”

“I get it. Brody is what the commentators call me,” he says, blue eyes twinkling.

Cheeks still warm, she sticks out her hand. “Dilara,” she says.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, taking her hand. “I’m James.”

—

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