This story was inspired by Taylor Swift's song titled Tolerate it, so I would recommend listening to it if you haven't already. It's a good song!!
Warnings: ANGST/SADNESS (but also moments of fluff)
Side note: the headers are the reader’s age: yoongi’s age
He was your brother’s best friend, only two years older than you. You’ve known him since you were 8, and he felt like your second brother for the longest time. His warmth melted a permanent hole in your heart that only he could fill. It was enough to make you love him, even when his affection seemed to turn to toleration.
He saw you peeking out from the bottom of the staircase, watching curiously as he and your brother tested out a new Lego set he had gotten for Christmas. He caught your gaze and sent you a smile that showcased his gums and made you blush for the first time out of many that would come after that. You were a shy kid from the get-go, but for some reason, his smile warmed you up enough to step out of the shadows instead of running away.
“Do you want to play with us?” He asked you, making your brother turn around to look at you. Quietly, you nod your head and the two boys scoot over to make space for you in between them. He handed you an oddly shaped block and pointed you toward where you were supposed to put it. You nodded, following his instruction and beaming when you saw the joyed glint in his eyes when you were successful.
You saw the front door open and two boys enter with slouched postures and pouty faces. Only when the two of them came closer did you see that Yoongi’s jeans were covered in mud and his elbow was scraped badly. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head seeing the contrast between the bright red skin of the injured area and his usually pale skin. Almost immediately, you’re off the couch and in front of them.
“What happened?” You asked your brother, seeing as Yoongi didn’t look like he was in the mood to explain.
“We were skating and some kid thought it would be funny to throw a branch in front of him,” he said. The anger flashing through your eyes at that moment was anything but subtle.
“Funny?” You repeat in disbelief, grabbing Yoongi’s arm to inspect it. There was mud on the scraped skin.
“They were stupid,” your brother spit out.
“No duh. You go get some clothes, I'll do the first aid stuff,” you said, already pulling Yoongi towards the bathroom with you.
You pulled down the lid on the toilet and instructed him to sit while you got everything you needed from the cabinets. You cleaned the mud off his arm with water first, not wanting to go right in with alcohol until the area was free of any visible dirt.
“Why are you all muddy?” You asked him curiously. He hadn’t spoken since he walked in, and you already knew that it was because he was embarrassed.
“I fell into the grass, and it was still wet from the rain,” he answered. You looked at his arm again, and it just didn’t click.
“You wouldn’t have gotten scraped up so badly if you fell in the grass. This is from the cement,” you pointed out, throwing the napkin away to get a new one and start to disinfect the scarp.
“I fell in the grass after I fell on the cement,” he explained. You looked up at him to see him blushing and avoiding eye contact with you.
“What?” You asked wide-eyed with concern and confusion.
“What???” You almost screamed but managed to keep your volume level.
“We were walking back home through the field, and I looked at my arm for the first time and saw all the blood. So, I passed out.” His face seemed to match the color of his poor arm.
“Oh,” you say, a little more relieved. Passing out from the sight of blood isn’t so bad. “It’s a good thing you passed out on the grass and not the cement, even though you got mud all over you. At least you didn’t hit your head hard,” you said, more to calm yourself down than anything. “Right? You didn’t hit your head?”
“No,” he chuckles at your frantic questioning. “My head is fine.” You nodded, letting out a relieved sigh. You pressed the alcohol-soaked napkin to his skin, eliciting a hiss out of him that made you pull back with a grimace.
“Sorry. Did it sting really badly?” He shakes his head and offers you a weak smile.
“It’s fine. You can keep going.” You nodded your head again and softly brought the napkin back to his skin, wiping it clean before you threw the napkin away and freed Yoongi of the torture.
“I couldn’t find any bandages big enough,” you confessed. “But I’ll figure something out.” You made your way out of the bathroom shouting out “Stay here!” before disappearing. Not even a moment later you’re sliding across the bathroom floor with tape in your hand because the sheer speed you were running at made it hard to stop. Yoongi let out a small laugh at your antics, unable to keep that smile you loved so much off his face. You give it right back to him, smiling happily as you walk towards the toilet and hover over him once more. You grabbed another paper towel, folded it, and wrapped it around his arms. He watched as you taped the two ends together with so much focus your tongue poked out a bit. A habit he’d come to be endeared by.
“Thank you,” he whispered to you when you were finished.
“Of course.” You gave him your best smile. “I called mom to pick up some bandages on the way home, but for now this is the best I could do,” you told him. Truth be told, he didn’t mind at all. The most healing thing to him was knowing you cared enough to treat him so attentively.
“It’s perfect,” he assured you.
Yoongi was distracted the whole time he was at your house, finding it difficult to focus on the words that were coming out of your brother’s mouth. He nodded, but his eyes kept wandering to the stairs. He was looking for you; you didn’t even run down to greet him when he rang the doorbell like you always did. He knew you were home, so how come you didn’t come to see him? Yoongi looked back at your brother and told him he was going to go up to say hi to you, but a frown overtook his features when he saw the way your brother cringed at the mention of your name.
“I don’t know if you want to do that right now,” your brother warned him.
“Why not?” Yoongi asked through a pout.
“Crying? Why?” His eyes widened, displaying all the worry that was already clearly evident in his voice.
“I don’t know,” your brother admit defeatedly, “She refused to tell me what happened and kicked me out of her room.”
“I’m gonna go. . .try to talk to her,” he decided, getting up from the couch.
“Ok bro, but don’t take it personally if she tells you to fuck off. I’m her brother, and she literally kicked my ass out the door, you know with her foot and all,” he lifted his leg up for a demonstration and gestured to it with his arms, “and locked me out.” A weak smile lifted the corner of Yoongi’s lips; he could imagine you doing that. He nodded with a chuckle and found himself making his way upstairs despite the warnings. Though he hesitated when his hand came up to knock on your door. After a deep breath in and out he let his hand collide with the wood.
“Hey, it’s me,” he called from the other side of the door. There was silence until he heard footsteps making their way towards him. You opened the door only a crack, hiding your face behind it.
“Hi Yoongi,” you managed to say, voice croaky. “I’m, uh,” you sniffled, looking down, “sorry I didn’t come down to say hi. I’ve been. . .feeling a little sick.” Part of his heart broke at how sweet you were being with him even when he knew you felt like shit. Though somewhere in his heart of hearts he knew that if there was anyone who’d be safe from bearing the brunt of your rage, it was him. You weren’t exactly subtle about your soft spot for your brother’s best friend.
“Can I come in?” He asked, watching you grow hesitant. He knew you were looking for a way to say no to him. “Your brother already told me you’ve been crying,” he admitted, hoping it would at least get you to stop trying to hide your face from him.
“My brother has a big mouth,” you grumbled, opening the door and walking back to face plant on your bed. Yoongi shut the door behind him and took a seat next to you, patting your back in an attempt to soothe you in some way. It worked because you sat up to face him, giving him an unobstructed view of your puffy face and red eyes.
“Wanna talk about it?” He asked. When Yoongi asked if you want to talk about something, it always felt like he wasn’t going to secretly be disappointed if you said yes. Sometimes with other people, it felt like a way of being polite instead of genuine concern, and for those times your answer was always no. But at the same time, it didn’t feel like a way to get you to talk either. You knew if you say no, he wouldn’t push it. That’s why for him the answer was always yes.
“There was a guy from school,” you started, already feeling embarrassed, but when you looked up to see Yoongi’s attentive face, you felt ok to keep going. “We started hanging out at the end of last year. He kind of asked me out, and I said yes, which was stupid because I didn’t even like the guy like that. I just wanted to experience the whole dating thing before I do it with someone I actually had feelings for,” you felt yourself start to get sidetracked and stopped talking, “anyways that’s not important. We started doing the whole dating thing at the being of summer. We’d hold hands and stuff, but he would never try to kiss me or anything. I didn’t mind it at first because I’ve never, you know,” your face started to heat up a bit at the confession, but he just nodded in understanding, “yeah so I thought maybe he was also taking it slow like I was, but when I finally decided that I was ready to just do it, he said some shit to me that made me feel sad.” Yoongi’s face fell, eyebrows furrowing subconsciously.
“What shit?” You immediately shied away from his gaze, biting the inside of your cheek.
“He, uh,” you played with your fingers nervously, “he said he didn’t want to kiss me. Apparently, my braces are a huge turnoff. I didn’t have them when he asked me out, he probably wouldn’t have if I did.” You kept your eyes on your hands, scared that you’ll start crying again if you look at him. Yoongi couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew that you were insecure about having braces at your age because most of your friends already got theirs removed years ago, but he didn’t see the probably with them. He didn’t understand why anyone would see them as a reason not to take the chance to kiss you. You were still you with or without them. He can’t help the scoff that leaves his lips at the thought.
“That’s some bullshit. They’re not a turnoff at all, he’s just a dumbass.” He said sternly enough to make you laugh.
“You just say that because you’re nice to me,” you brushed him off.
“No, you know I don’t lie.” He was right. In the time you’ve known Yoongi, he’s been rather blunt. He didn’t see the use for white lies. “I think someone would have to be stupid not to want to kiss you.” The words kind of just slipped from his mouth before he could register the implication he was making. You whipped your head to look at him, making his cheeks go red. His hand found the back of his neck as it tended to when he was nervous.
“Would you?” You asked catching him completely off guard. His eyes widened, lips parting ever so slightly.
“I mean if you were him, would you have wanted to kiss me?” You asked feeling rather daring, but still feeling your heart brace itself for its second wave of rejection–rejection you’d already know would be much harder to shoulder than the first.
“If-if I was him, yeah,” he stutters, unsure if his answer is acceptable. Would it make it ok to want to kiss you if he was someone else? If he wasn’t your brother’s best friend. He feels a little bit of relief when he sees you starting to smile, but his relief seems not to last very long.
“What if I asked you?” You looked at him intently. “Would you want to kiss me?” His eyes fell to your lips for the briefest of moments, they were glossy from a fresh application of chapstick, and he begged his brain not to wonder what it tastes like. His efforts were fruitless, so he looked away, hands rested on his knees. He stayed quiet, feeling somewhat unequipped to answer your question. “Because I want you to.” Your words hit him like a pile of bricks, and he sent you a look of pure disbelief.
“Are asking me to kiss you?” He asked like your words weren’t clear as day.
“Isn’t it better if my first kiss is with someone I know and trust instead of some random person I don’t care about? If you wanted to kiss me, I’d like that,” you said, suddenly getting shy. You studied his face eagerly, but it didn’t give you many clues to what he was thinking. His blank stare put you off. You look down at your lap, a bitter chuckle leaving your mouth. Rejection. He was just being nice “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. We–”
“Yeah,” he cut you off, “Of course, I would.”
“Are you. . .? Really?” You felt the need to confirm.
“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked, returning to his confident self. “I don’t want you kissing assholes.” He shined his pretty smile at you, making your cheeks heat up. You returned it, turning to fully face him, scooting in a bit closer, and sitting on your heels. His eyes fell back onto your lips, and his tongue darted out to swipe across his own. The action caught your attention, and all of a sudden the reality of what you just asked hits you–who you just asked. “Are you sure you want it to be me?” He asked you softly. “I would feel really bad if you regretted it.”
“I wouldn’t. Not with you, I feel safe with you.” He bit his lip to keep his smile from growing too wide. He felt proud to hear those words from you, that you trusted him, even if he already knew it well. He brought a hand up to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb on your soft skin. He got closer until his lips were only centimeters apart from yours and your breath hitches.
“I’m glad,” he whispered before closing the gap. Your eyes shut at the feeling of his lips moving against yours, wanting only to focus on it. He eased you into it, letting you get comfortable enough to set the pace. He smiled into the kiss when he felt your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in gently. He almost wrapped his hands around your thighs to pull you onto his lap before he realized what he was doing and dropped them. You pulled away, looking at him with a stunned expression. Maybe neither of you expected that to be so. . .exciting. You didn’t back away completely, biting your lips nervously as he stared at you silently. Unable to put your thoughts together properly you let your eyes drift back up to his and said nothing. When he smiled at you, you felt your reserve slowly crumble. The wire in your brain snapped when he started to chuckle at your wide-eyed expression. You pushed him onto his back and hovered over him like a predator, narrowing your eyes at him.
“Don’t laugh at me,” you warned.
“But your face is funny,” he defended himself, still smiling at you. You didn’t say anything snarky back to him, instead, your eyes darted around his face–searching for something. All you found was the fondness in his eyes and his gummy smile– the one that made you fall for him every single time. Min Yoongi. The man you’ve yearned for since you knew what wanting someone felt like. The man you’d asked to give you your first kiss. The man who always seemed to give you what you asked for just because you wanted it. The man who was smiling his lovely smile just for you.
“C-can we do that again?” You asked hesitantly. A bit of shock passed through his eyes that would go unnoticed by anyone who wasn’t watching closely before he gave you a silent nod. You were still positioned over him, hands and knees supporting you. You leaned down, bringing your lips to his. This time you fell into rhythm quickly, having gotten a hang of what to do. Without the nerves of the first kiss, you were able to fully experience all the sparks of the second. Your chest felt tingly, and your lungs felt constricted. You only pulled away because it was getting hard to breath. The tingly feeling spread to your entire body when he lifted his head to chase the kiss as you brought yourself back up, his eyes still closed even after your lips were gone. Min Yoongi. The man who made you weak in the knees. You let yourself fall next to him on the mattress.
“That guy missed out big time,” Yoongi spoke up, pulling you out of your thoughts. A smile made its home on your face. It was good to know you weren’t the only one enjoying that. You turned your head to look at Yoongi, who was already looking at you. God. That smile of his only did more damage after you knew what it was like to kiss him. His eyes sparkled in a way that was distinctly Yoongi. Your brother used to make fun of you when you’d say that everybody’s eyes shined differently because they were meant to be interpreted differently by different people. Everybody’s sparkle was designed to make their soulmate fall in love with them. You knew it was some stupid trope you’d fantasied, but when you looked at Yoongi’s eyes it felt real. “Don’t let boys make you cry. And definitely don’t let them make you feel like shit, ok?” He waited expectantly for you to answer. You nodded your head.
“You’re going to have to be a lot more convincing than that,” he chuckled. “Promise me,” he said, holding out his pinky towards you. You locked your pinky with his.
“I promise,” you said more confidently.
“Good.” He smiled, sitting up in his spot. His hair stuck up in the back, making it look slightly messy. It was unnecessarily attractive. You looked at him longingly, not being able to voice your feelings. Wasn’t it already obvious?
“Yoongi,” you called out softly, but that’s all you managed to get out, feeling unprepared to talk at all.
“Hm?” He hummed, still looking at you with the same fond eyes. Your heart started to race.
“Thank you,” you said. He shook his head with a chuckle.
“For always being there when I need you. For everything.” The look on your face was so soft, he couldn’t help but feel his heart clench.
“Of course, anything for you.” Your grip on the edge of the mattress tightened at his words, gaze falling to the floor. His hand searched for yours, holding it firmly in his to reassure you.
Your brother had broken the news to you. Yoongi dropped out of college, and his parents kicked him out of the house. So that’s why you were at the goshiwon helping him move in. Your brother was supposed to be here but he was busy and sent you instead. Yoongi didn’t have much to move; you were mostly here for mental support, not physical. He set his box down on the desk, not turning around to face you immediately. You knew it was hard on him, but part of you knew he’d be ok in the end. Coming with him gave you relief you didn’t know you needed. The goshiwon wasn’t the nicest, but it wasn’t the worst either. His floormates didn’t seem too bad. Maybe he could even make friends, but you didn’t have to worry too much because you already knew your brother would keep him more than enough company. He had you too. He wouldn’t be lonely.
“Thank you for coming,” he said, back still facing you. You give him a sad smile he couldn’t even see.
“Of course. I want to be here,” you assured him. He looked over his shoulder at you sitting on his bed and smiled. “I’ll always be here for you. Me and my brother,” you added. He finally sat next to you, but didn’t say a word for a while. You let him take his time, knowing he must be trying to process everything. When he finally looked at you, you saw the tears spilling from his eyes. Acting on pure instinct, you pull him to your chest and let him cry against you. He held onto you so tight, as if he thought you’d run away if he let go. You ran your hand through his soft smooth locks to calm his nerves. He felt the rise and fall of your chest with every breath, and it soothed him beyond explanation. Maybe it was because it solidified your presence in his mind. He was able to regain his composure, feeling his tears come to an end.
“That’s all I need,” he whispered. He sat up and nodded, as if to convince himself he’ll be fine. You laid your head on his shoulder and took in the new setting with him. He admired the way you so neatly organized his things into the shelving over the desk. Maybe he was happy that your brother sent you instead because you gave him the kind of peace he'd probably never be able to find in anybody else. He felt you wrap your hand around his and reciprocated eagerly. Your eyes fell on the clock on the corner of his desk. It was getting late and your campus was an hour and a half away. You lifted your head from his shoulder and cleared your throat.
“I should get going,” you announced, still holding onto his hand.
“Stay,” Yoongi said immediately. He didn’t get the chance to think about what he was saying until it was too late. His cheeks tinted pink, and he avoided looking at your wide-eyed expression. “I mean I know I don’t have much space in here, but it’s dark out and you have a long drive. You can stay if you want.” Your eyes softened at his words. You could tell that he didn’t really want to be left alone, even if he wasn’t going to tell you straight up.
“Ok,” you answered, feeling a bit unsure of how it would go, but when you saw his shoulders relax you let go of your own unease. He looked at you with a weak smile before looking back down and letting it fall from his face.
“We should probably get changed,” he suggested. You looked down at your laps, realizing that you were both wearing jeans. He got up and pulled out some clothes for the both of you. He set them on the bed and opened a new pack of toothbrushes, putting one down for you as well.
“Thanks,” you said softly, “I’ll go see if someone will let me into the bathroom on the women’s floor.” He nodded, still feeling hesitant to look you in the eye after his brazen request. He was probably breaking some of the goshiwon rules by asking you to stay with him, but you didn’t even object. He knew how much of a stickler you were for the rules, and how nervous you probably were to get caught. A bit of guilt surfaced in him. He pushed his thoughts aside and used the chance of you not being there to get changed. Right as he walked out of the bathroom he got a text from you to come open the door. When he did, he was met with the unexpected sight of your sweet smile and sparkling eyes. That paired with you in his oversized t-shirt and pajama pants made his heart do something strange and unexplainable. He shook himself out of his thoughts and let you in. You skipped all the way to his room, making him smile as he opened the door to his room. You seemed happy.
“What’s got you all excited?” He asked, watching you make yourself comfortable on his bed.
“I met this girl downstairs who was so sweet. She let me into the women’s floor and even insisted on sharing her skincare with me. I got her phone number,” you told him excitedly. He smiled at you, looking you up and down. Of course, you already made a friend.
“That’s nice,” he hummed, getting in under the blanket with you. He let out a sigh of relief when he was finally in bed. The blanket was so soft and warm that it felt like heaven to have it wrapped around him. He groaned, pulling it up all the way around him so that it would engulf him. He almost forgot you were there until he heard your giggles.
“I told you you would like this blanket,” you said from over the blockade he created with it. He pulled the blanket down just enough to see your face, and gave you a defeated nod. Yes, he did complain when you gave it to him because it was pink and fluffy with little cats and dogs printed on it, but he couldn’t deny that it was great.
“Still looks like it belongs to a five-year-old,” he grumbled with eyes shut.
“Ok, yes, it’s a kids blanket, but it’s cozy anyways!!!” You defended your choices. “Plus, it’s cute and it made me think of you.” He frowned at that, glaring at you. Instead of being deterred by that you just laughed at him. “Look,” you held up a section of the blanket that had a cat on it making a -ㅅ- face, “this one looks like you right now. You’re even making the same face!” He tried to keep up his unamused act, but he couldn’t keep the corners of his lips from rising.
“You’re saying I look like a cat, huh?” He asked in a way that dared you to say yes and find out the consequences.
“Absolutely, you do,” you answered immediately.
“Take it back,” he demanded.
“Nope,” you teased, popping the p.
“Take it back,” he repeated. You felt his hand drift up to your waist, fingers ghosting over your sides and making you shiver.
“Or what?” You tried to seem unfazed by his touch. He raised an eyebrow at you, and before you knew it he was hovering above you. The situation reminded you of three years ago when you kissed him. Except the positions were flipped; he was in control. The thought had your heart skipping a beat.
“I’ll tickle you,” he threatened. What he wasn’t expecting was the smug look that crossed your face.
“Do it,” you dared him. “I’ll cause a ruckus, and you’ll get kicked out of here on your first night.”
“You’re an evil one, aren’t you?” He narrowed his eyes at you playfully.
“Maybe.” You smiled up at him. His eyes fell to your lips and for a moment he thought about kissing them. Not because you asked him like three years ago but because he wanted to. His eyes found yours again, and you had gone silent, watching his every move eagerly. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and let his hand stay on your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. The way your breath hitched at the contact didn’t go unnoticed by him, only urging him to get closer to you. Your hands gripped onto the collar of his shirt, holding him to you. When his lips were only centimeters away from yours, his phone rang like a wake-up call. He got off you and stumbled to reach his phone. It was your brother. He looked at you and answered the call.
“Hey. Yeah, everything is done. Uh, no, she’s still here. Got late, didn’t want her to drive back. Sure, yeah thanks. Night.” You heard him speak into the phone before he hung up and set it back down. Seeing you in his clothes, in his bed–where he almost kissed you, felt so wrong now. He never told your brother how he felt about you. Honestly, he wasn’t sure until he was looking down at your pretty face and saw the way your eyes glittered at him. He knew if he kissed you this time it wouldn’t be a one-time thing you’d never speak about like it was three years ago. He wanted you, and once he got you there was no going back. He scratched the back of his neck and looked around before getting back into bed with you. He tried to keep as much distance as possible between you, but that proved to be extremely difficult in the small goshiwon bed. You lifted your head and frowned at the sight of nearly half his body hanging off the side of the bed.
“What are you doing?” You asked, but before he could even answer he felt your hand on his waist, pulling him closer to you. You manhandled him a bit to get him in the position you want (little spoon) and wrapped your arms and legs around him. He would have laughed, had he not felt like he should be running away. He let out a shaky breath when he felt you snuggle into his shoulder. He rested his arm over the one you had wound against his torso and intertwined your hands, letting himself enjoy the last time he’d let himself get this close to you.
You used to cook him food and bring it to him on your days off when he was still living in the goshiwon. He knew you were using your free time to take care of him because you wanted him to have something delicious whenever he could, but he never showed how much he really appreciated it. When you drove an hour and a half there and back every Saturday and Sunday, all he did was say thank you and shut the door in your face. He knew he sent you home crying more times than he cared to admit, but it was the only option. At least that’s how he saw it. When he finally established himself as a producer and moved out of the goshiwon, you were the person proudest of him. And now that he was successful enough to have a nice apartment in the center of Seoul, you were still the person who stood behind him. You still took care of him like you always have. You’d come over when he was too busy to leave his in-home studio and cook for him to make sure he had something delicious to eat. Just like you always had. You used his fancy kitchen more than he did.
The aroma made its way into the studio, making him subconsciously follow it all the way back to the kitchen. He smiled seeing you dancing around with a wooden ladle in your hand to the music coming out of the surround sound speakers he set up all over the apartment. He’d gotten so used to seeing you there, in his home, that it felt like you belonged there. He nearly came up to wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest but stopped himself mid-way. If life was like his fantasies then he’d already have his arms around you and his chin rested on your shoulder. Maybe he’d whisper in your ear and call you baby just to see how you’d react. Then he’d say, ‘why don’t you just move in with me? You practically live here anyway.’ But that’s not what happened because life isn’t one of his daydreams. You turned around and smiled at him so beautifully he wanted to cry. He didn’t understand how you could still love him so much. He knew you had to resent him just a little. Of course, you did. There was no way someone could make you cry every time you saw them and not make you hate them just a little bit. Of course, you hate him, but how can you love him enough to pretend you don't? How could you love him at all? What really happened was a harsh contrast to Yoongi’s fantasies. You watched him close his eyes and bring a hand up to pinch his nose, letting out an irritated breath.
“Why do you always come here uninvited and act like it’s your house?” He spat out. He watched the smile fall right off your face, and man he wished he didn’t speak. He knew this wasn’t the first time he hurt you, far from it, but it usually wasn’t because of the things he said but because of the things he didn’t say. He knew his words cut deeper than any knife. The blades of his words stung like poison, and he could see it on your face. You set the ladle down and took off the apron you were wearing, making sure to turn off the stove too. Knowing he was the reason all the happiness suddenly drained out of your face made him want to throw up all the contents of his stomach. You scoff, shaking your head at all the things you had set up for him.
“I really don’t know,” you say with more resignation than anger, and it kills him. You still couldn’t yell at him when he knew he deserved a hard slap to the face or maybe 10. “You don’t have to worry about me showing up here uninvited ever again,” you say, looking him in the eye. “You don’t have to worry about me showing up at all.” Now, he could see the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You never let him see you cry; you always waited until you were at least in the safety of your car. He couldn’t process what you were saying until you were already at his door with your shoes on.
“Wait! I-,” he called out to you, but you just shut the door and left. He panicked running out to catch up to you before you left. He sees you walking into the elevator and by some luck, he catches your wrist before you can go in. You turn to face him, eyes all red and puffy. “I’m sorry, I fucked up,” he says, holding onto your hand.
“You always fuck up.” He knows this already but hearing you say it made his heart crack.
“I fucked up, even more, today,” he corrects. You didn’t say anything else, just looked at him like you would rather be standing in front of anyone else. “Just stay, and please let me try to fix it.” You gave him a sad smile that told him you didn’t believe he could.
“I broke my promise,” you chuckle sadly. He looked at you with confusion, eyes begging for an explanation. “You made me promise not to let boys make me cry and feel like shit, but I haven’t been keeping that promise. I just never thought you’d be the reason, not back then.” You look down and swallow roughly. “All these years I thought you were just tolerating me, but now I know that you were barely even doing that.”
“That’s not true,” he tells you.
“Then what is? You made it clear how you feel about me hanging around you.”
“But you did,” you say, giving him that same sad smile. “I don’t know why I tried so hard when I knew you felt this way. I guess I was holding onto the past.” You laugh at your own stupidity. “I was waiting for the old Yoongi to come back. The one that made me feel like he loved me. The one that looked at me like he wanted nothing more than to kiss me that night in the goshiwon. But I don’t know what happened to him. It seems like he disappeared with that moment, and I was naively optimistic in thinking he’d ever come back.”
“He’s still there. He’s always been there,” he says, holding both of your hands and urging you to believe him.
“Is he? Then why do you do this to me? I haven’t seen you smile at me in 5 years.”
“I was scared to lose you. To lose everyone I love,” he admits. You tilt your head at him and look at him with the uttermost disgust. He’s never seen you look at anyone like that, especially not him.
“So, you thought the best way to keep me around was to treat me like shit?” You spit out the question.
“I thought that the best way to pretend I don’t love you more than just a friend was to distance myself from you. I never meant for it to go so far, but you kept loving me no matter how indifferent I pretended to be. For a second, I thought you hating me would be better, but maybe I’m selfish because I don’t want that,” he explains, leaving you even more confused.
“Yoongi,” you say almost as a plea. A plea to stop messing with your feelings. “You’re not making any sense,” you say softly.
“I love you. I’m in love with you. So much so that I’m scared of it. I’m scared that me loving you wouldn’t be ok with your brother, and I’ll end up losing my friendship with him because of it. And if I lose him I lose you too. I’m scared that maybe one day you’ll turn around and say ‘sorry Yoongi, but I don’t love you anymore’. Then where will I be? I don’t want to lose the two most important people in my life. Especially not you.” You feel your heart in your throat, and think you might just shut down right there.
“My brother doesn’t have a say in how you feel about me, and I think you already know I can’t fall out of love with you. Believe me, I’ve tried,” you confess, making his heart drop. Even though he’s been trying so hard to get you not to love him anymore, the thought of it actually working makes his whole body ache. “You don’t treat people you love the way you treated me, especially when they love you as much as I do.”
“I know. I just don’t want to lose any more people in my life. I couldn’t risk it. I would rather have you in my life hating me than not there at all.” He looks at you, hoping you’d understand him. “But what I can’t handle is you hating me and walking out of my life, so please I–” his voice cracks, making you whip your head up to see him crying, “I need you to stay. I need you in my life. I won’t hurt you again. I need you to believe that I’m still the same person who loved you all those years ago. Who loves you now.”
“How can I do that, Yoongi?” You look into his eyes intently. “How can I do that when I don’t even remember what your love feels like?” Your question was enough to turn the crack in Yoongi’s heart into a fault line, only needing one last earthquake to shatter it completely. He shuts his mouth not knowing what to say to you. You pull your hands away from his and press the elevator button. It doesn’t take more than 10 seconds for the doors to open again. “Goodbye, Yoongi,” you say, as the doors finally shut. He walks back to his apartment, and nothing feels real until he smells the aroma still lingering in his home. He walks down to the kitchen, seeing two glasses and a new bottle of his favorite brand of whiskey sitting next to them. That’s the first time you’ve set two glasses; you were planning to stay and eat with him. And that was the earthquake that broke his heart into tiny pieces.
How different would it be if he just let himself hold you when he wanted to? If he let himself love you when he wanted to? If he kissed you that night in the goshiwon?