the road not taken 09 | myg
part nine: tired
Summary: Halloween comes just in time to haunt Yoongi with the ghosts of his past.
<part eight
—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress!oc
—rating: +18
—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?), slow burn
—warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, fluff. drugs and alcohol use, wicked spoilers? I’m sorry!!
—words: 12.7k
—a/note: not me desappearing the whole weekend lmaoo i'm sorry!! but i felt like i was rushing things and i panicked!! so i took (more than enough) time to finish this!! i tried to not disappear again!!! happy late halloween i guess. thank you for waiting always 💗
series masterlist | teaser | playlist
You squinted when, all of the sudden, a bright white spotlight hit you straight in the face.
“Jungkook,” You said as you stood in the middle of the stage of The Alley, covering your eyes, “something tells me you’re not great with the lights.”
“Well, you’re not wrong.” He laughed from somewhere backstage. “You know, my skills are very limited. I play the drums, a little bit of guitar. I cook pretty decently, too. At least that’s what the ladies tell me. I’m not very specialized in this, though.”
A second later, the entire place was bathed in red. You couldn’t help but laugh.
“Great. That’s exactly what we needed,” you muttered—loud enough for him to hear.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he said with a grin. “Everything would be a lot easier if Yoongi were here. He actually knows how to work the console.”
You fought the urge to roll your eyes.
Right, Yoongi. That was the name you’d been hearing all week. Yoongi this, Yoongi that. “Yoongi knows this better than I do,” or “Yoongi knows where that thing is, he’ll tell you,” and yes, “You should probably ask Yoongi to help you with that.” At this point, you’d stopped wasting your time wondering why the hell he suddenly knew everything about The Alley better than anyone. Minnie had told you several times, though the answer wasn’t quite convincing: he was the lawyer; he had to.
That was the answer that lay on the surface, and it made sense. Especially with the party preparations, he knew which things you could get away with and which ones could get you in trouble. What you didn’t understand was why he needed to be around all. the. damn. time.
Didn’t he have a job already?
You knew this wasn’t the only explanation, because there was no reason for Yoongi to know where the costumes from the play were stored, or the names of the students in Jungkook’s drumming classes. He was deeply involved; it went far beyond that. You just knew, but you couldn’t prove it yet.
You crossed your arms over your chest, letting the name fade in the air. “But Minnie told me you were the one who could get away with anything, aren’t you?” you told him “And you’re in charge of the console the night of the party.”
He hummed, smiling, almost too proud of himself. “And trust me, she’s right. I just need a hand and then I’m ready to go.”
You walked over towards him, pausing when you were next to him. “Is he coming today, anyway?” You asked softly, trying not to sound too curious as your eyes fixed on the lighting board.
“He better.” Jungkook snorted. “There’s a ton of stuff to do before the party.”
“Don’t remind me.” You sighed. “I’m putting him to clean the floors if he’s late.”
Jungkook let out a laugh, shaking his head as you watched him fiddling with the board, clearly guessing his way through it.
A beat of silence passed until he finally spoke again.
“So… You and Yoongi, huh?” You heard him talk under his breath. He found your eyes, slightly raising his eyebrows with curiosity.
“Me and Yoongi?” You repeat, titling your head. You caught something in his eyes, but you ignored it.
“You two have known each other since you were kids, right?” he asked.
You shifted your weight from foot to foot, lips pressing together.
“Yeah... maybe even before that,” you said, careful not to slide into memory lane. “He was already there when I was born.”
Jungkook gave a low whistle. “That’s a long time,” he murmured. “So... do you actually get along, or was that scene the other day in class just an everyday thing?”
You couldn’t help but smile, even though the memory made you cringe. You had hoped everyone would’ve forgotten about it by now, but it was clearly engraved in their minds. You could tell by the look Harriet gave you when Yoongi suddenly burst into the room and you had to keep your mouth shut, or when Yoongi approached to ask you something, all of a sudden, the kids exchanged knowing looks, like there was some kind of inside joke, like both of you were the inside joke.
No one went so far as to ask you about it, though—except Jungkook, who was trying a little too hard to sound nonchalant.
“So…” he continued, “you’ve always been close?”
“Well, depends what you mean by close” You gave a small shrug. “He’s my brother’s best friend, I guess we were friends by default.”
“Funny, though.” He commented “You two argue like you know each other way better than just by default.”
You exchanged a brief glance with Jungkook, but it felt like you stood there for a solid five minutes.
You narrowed your eyes. What was he trying to say?
“That’s because he's annoying.” You tried to brush it off, walking back to the center of the stage as you checked the notebook in your hands. The list of things to do before the party was still very long, and even more than half of them needed the help of Yoongi, who still hadn’t shown up. “And he’s late.”
It wasn’t until you saw Minnie last week, sick on her bed, surrounded by used tissues as she tried to hold back another sneeze, when you had to tell her she should step back from preparations for the halloween party.
It was clear for everyone in the building that this wasn’t just another halloween party, the moment Minnie stepped foot on the place, people drowned her with questions: when did the second DJ set start? Were strobe lights allowed in the main hall? If we set a bar in the backyard, would we need a different permit?
And yes, she had answers for everything. She was determined to do the most in record time. Ever since the last Alley meeting a few weeks ago, when Yoongi cautiously mentioned that if the fundraiser went well, they might just reach the emergency repair goal before the next council deadline, Minnie had clung to the idea like it was a lifeline, even if Yoongi had only framed it as a possibility. That, of course, until her body began to take its tool and left her sick on her bed.
“You just need to rest,” you assured her, setting her third cup of tea for the day on the nightstand. It was cold outside, but not enough to leave Minnie this sick. You both knew it was something else.
“I can’t rest. I need to finish planning the party,” she insisted, scrolling on her phone and frantically texting everyone in her contact list to make sure everything was going according to plan.
You sighed and sat at the foot of her bed. “Who’s in line after you?” you asked, searching for a solution in your head.
“No one.” She scoffed and took a sip from the cup.
You shot her a look, silently begging her to make an effort.
Minnie shook her head. “Okay, maybe Sid, probably, but he’s out of town, so yeah, no one. I’m single-handedly keeping that place from falling apart.”
“There’s got to be someone,” you murmured, biting your nails without even noticing. “What about Jungkook? He knows his way around, I’ve seen it.”
“God, no,” she whined, rolling her eyes. “I mean, he does, he really does, but he’s not up to date on all the infrastructure issues. I need to be there for that.”
“But your body is literally asking you to stay in bed right now.”
Minnie sank into the pillows, looking like she was about to cry. “But I only trust myself.”
You shook your head with a short laugh. “You can’t only trust yourself, Minnie. C’mon, there’s really no one who knows all that stuff as well as you do?”
She opened her eyes wide and nodded. “Oh, there is.” She grabbed another tissue to wipe her nose. “Not sure you’re gonna like who it is.”
You tried not to roll your eyes. Of course it was Yoongi. “You’re not serious.”
“He’s our lawyer, he has to know everything. It’s his job.”
You didn’t argue with that, it was just facts.
“But he can’t plan the party.” You assumed, and you were correct. The idea of Yoongi planning a Halloween party—or any kind of party—seemed almost too funny to picture.
“No, he couldn’t,” Minnie confirmed.
But you still weren’t out of ideas.
“What if you pair Yoongi and Jungkook?” you suggested. “Jungkook knows the place, Yoongi knows the legal stuff, they could make a good team.”
For the first time all day, you saw a smile cross Minnie’s face, though it was paired with a deep frown.
“I love Jungkook, sweetheart,” she said, voice fond. “But what gave you the impression that he knows a thing about organization?”
You laughed under your breath, knowing she was right. Jungkook wasn’t the right person to plan the party, he barely knew how to work the stage lights, but he was the last rational option you had left.
The room fell silent for a second.
Then again… there was the irrational option.
And for a moment, you tried to stop it. You tried with all your will. But when you looked at your friend in bed, already on the edge of falling apart, the feeling only grew deeper. Before you could stop it, whatever bullshit you were thinking came out of your mouth almost too easily. Almost like you wanted it.
“What about me?” You suggested, locking eyes with her.
Minnie blinked. Her brown eyes looking at you like you just stopped earth with your hands.
She let out a choked laugh, full of disbelief. “Are you kidding, or…?”
“I’m serious.” You said before you could regret it. “But only if you think I could pull it off, I mean, it’s such a big-”
“Fuck off.” She interrupted you, hopping off the pillows to kneel beside you. “Of course you could. Hell, better than me, I bet.”
You laughed, feeling your heart melt inside your chest. “I don’t think anyone can do it better than you.”
“You can.” She said, putting her hands together as if she were begging. “It’s just a party, you can do it.”
“It’s not just a party…” You reminded her with a glance.
She pursed her lips, nodding. “Okay, it is an important party.” She admitted. “But you’re the only one I’d trust with it. You and…” You could almost see the thought crossing her mind, making her suddenly stop talking. “You and Yoongi.”
“Me and Yoongi are on a truce, remember?” You said, making emphasis on the word truce like it was some kind of joke. And it was, it made Minnie laugh every time you reminded her of it.
“So, are you telling me both of you could work on this as a team without breaking this truce of yours?”
To be honest, you weren’t quite sure. The whole truce thing worked fine when you only had to exchange a few words and stay in different rooms without actually seeing each other. You hadn’t tested it to its full limit yet—but you were willing to try. For your friend’s health, yes, but also for that buzzing feeling in your chest whenever you thought about the Halloween party.
“Of course.” You promised. “I’m a professional.”
And at the time, a week ago, you had meant it.
You weren’t surprised to see Yoongi at The Alley anymore. You were used to it by now, even if at first it felt like you caught a glimpse of a ghost standing down the hallway when the lights were turned off. Now you were almost familiar with the ghost, but that didn’t mean you wanted him floating around in every corner of every room.
You looked down to your notebook with the list of things you needed to do today. It turned out, Yoongi was needed for every single thing.
There, standing in the middle of the stage under the red lights, you saw him entering through the doors, his eyes locking with yours immediately.
All at once, the lights turned green.
“Do you think the kids would like this?” Jungkook asked from backstage. “They’ve been asking me to play hyper pop.”
Yoongi walked down the aisle in a straight line, stopping at the bottom of the stairs with his hands shoved into his pockets. Today, he wasn’t wearing his usual white shirt; instead, he had on a blue flannel over a simple black t-shirt, a black cap pulled low over his head.
“Jungkook, if a green neon light hit me right in the face at a club, I’d probably die on the spot,” He said, his eyes still holding your gaze.
You snorted. “You, at the club?” You said. “Isn’t that past your bedtime?”
“Good morning to you, too.” He climbed up the stairs towards you, leaving his backpack on the stage floor.
“Good morning.” You forced a smile, trying to remember the fact that he was working for free and not that he was late. “Are you a lawyer today or an electrician?”
“I can be whatever you want.” The corners of his mouth tugged upwards into a smirk, teasing. You guessed he was in a good mood today.
“Great, I want you to be the guy who knows how to work the lights.” You pointed towards Jungkook, who looked relieved that Yoongi was finally here.
Yoongi waved at him from his place, then looked back at you. “What do you mean by bedtime, by the way?” He leaned towards you, frowning. “I’ve been to clubs.”
You blinked, a laugh already tugging at your lips. “For sure. Ten years ago, maybe. Besides, this is not a club.”
“Still counts, doesn’t it?”
“We’re testing the lights for the costume contest,” you shot back, shaking your head. “I think that’s very far from being a club.”
“Tsk. Right, that thing…” He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms above his chest. “So are you presenting the contest, huh?”
“Yeah, that’ll be my job.”
He nodded a few times, tapping one foot against the wooden floor. “And are you… wearing a costume?”
You turned to him, searching for some kind of encrypted message in his eyes, but there was none. It seemed to be just him, trying to make small talk.
“Huh… yeah. Minnie said it’s mandatory.” You bit your bottom lip, playing with your fingers. “Are you…?
“I don’t know yet.” He said “But she also told me it was mandatory, and that she would kick me out if I don’t.”
You smiled, picturing that in your mind. “That would be funny.” The room turned red again, making you close your eyes and sigh. “Can you help him?”
“On it.” He nodded. “What color?”
“Whatever you want,” you said, watching him walk right past you. “Something that won’t make the costumes hard to see.”
Yoongi leaned over the lighting board, patting Jungkook’s back in greeting. In a matter of seconds, the reflectors turned pink, blue, and white, making you glance down at your hands and clothes to check if they were visible enough under the new lighting.
You looked up to them. “Do I look alright?”
Jungkook and Yoongi looked up from the board at the sound of your voice, finding you standing at the center of the stage.
Yoongi’s eyes fell on you, noticing how the pink lights caught in your eyes and glimmered on your dark clothes, as if the colors themselves were shining straight from you. Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat, gulping.
You looked at your hands, smiling, and said something to them, but Yoongi couldn’t seem to hear anything. You looked pretty, he thought involuntarily. You were wearing a black long sleeve shirt and a black mini skirt, paired with bright red tights and ballerina flats. Your long hair cascaded across your back, slightly curly at the ends, your eyes were wide and shiny under the lights. He could see your lips moving from across the room, but the sound was just a buzz in his ears, almost like the only thing he was able to do was take in the picture of you under the pink lights.
A subtle frown made an appearance in your face. Yoongi quickly realized that you were expecting some kind of answer. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, but his gaze still found its way towards the pink halo that was drowning you.
“Huh…?” Jungkook shook his head, looking as mesmerized as Yoongi.
“Do I look alright?” You repeat, this time loud enough to make them hear you. “What are you looking at? Does it look bad?”
“No, no you look perfect!”
“That’s not- No, you look fine.”
Their voices clashed with each other, making it impossible for you to hear the words clearly. Your frown got deeper. He suddenly remembered where he was.
“Okay…” you said, narrowing your eyes “Are you sure the costumes will look good?”
This time, Yoongi felt confident enough to answer. “Yeah, they will be visible.”
“Right...” You ignored their reactions, letting your eyes fall on your notebook again. “Okay, I left a few instructions there for Jungkook. When you’re finished, meet me in the back.”
Yoongi observed your body turn around almost like a dance move, swirling and making your skirt flow as you headed to the stairs to leave the scene. He could hear his heart beat on his throat, and for a second, he swore he could hear Jungkook’s heart too.
He snapped out of the trance, looking at the younger man next to him following you with his big black eyes. Slightly annoyed, Yoongi snapped his fingers several times, bringing Jungkook out of his daydream. “Okay. Back to work, kid.”
Yoongi spent almost thirty minutes trying to teach Jungkook how to work the lights properly in the way he remembered Sid teaching him. Since he handled the permits and compliance with regulations, he made sure to learn the basics of things like this, especially if he was going to be present during future inspections or emergencies. At first there was no need for him to learn all that stuff, there were people who had spent years at The Alley and knew the place like the palm of their hands, but as the place grew more short-staffed and they couldn’t afford to call in help every time something broke, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to become familiar with a thing or two.
Jungkook and him worked together trying to follow the instructions you left, and when he was sure he got everything right, he went looking for you, following your vanilla scent backstage.
It had been a week since you took full charge of the party preparations, a week since he began working alongside you as Minnie requested. It was fine, he swore it was, but as he looked ahead and realized he still had another week before Halloween, he started to feel the collar of his shirt a bit tight.
Namjoon hung around last week and looked at him with a mocking smirk plastered on his face. He passed by and muttered shit in a low voice just to annoy him, saying he seemed to be handling it well, but Yoongi just rolled his eyes, because he was, at least for a bit.
At first, Yoongi guessed it was the truce he so foolishly proposed, or the fact that you were too focused to give a damn about him, but the more time he spent with you, the more he realized that the reason why you were letting him so close was because you were happy. You had a smile on your face, you seemed excited, there was a glint in your face that he hadn’t seen in a while. Perhaps that was why you quickly got immersed in this weird dynamic where you pretended nothing ever happened, you had no time for that.
He stood beside you when you needed him, as you held the notebook in your hands and checked your bucket list for the party. He held his breath as he observed your black painted nails, the ring of your fingers, the way you wrote notes in angry red every time you didn’t like how something turned out, or when you loved it, there was no in between. He followed you around like a puppy, waiting for you to find him useful, waiting for you to get tired of him and tell him to piss the fuck off.
You didn’t.
Yet.
It was like some strange force had taken over him since the night he saw you back home. He’d wished someone had warned him that you were going to be there, that way, he could have put his thoughts in order before seeing you again. But no one did, and when he walked into the room, he felt his heart drop to his stomach, for a moment his gaze blurred. Now his mind was all over the place.
You looked so different, yet the same.
Your hair was shorter, it was still long but cut in this stylish way just like a movie star. You had lost your baby face, you wore bags under your eyes and a faint smile. You looked older, grown. It was a version of you that he didn’t get to meet, a version of you he missed out.
Your voice was the same but you talked about different things, your eyes were the same but they didn’t look at him anymore. For a brief moment, Yoongi made peace with the fact that now you were a stranger, and still, he tried to meet your gaze all evening.
You were so far away even if you were just right across the table. And he was fine with it, he had been fine with it for years. He had numbed the feeling, silenced it, buried it in someone’s backyard. He believed both of your paths were clear, that it was written somewhere, sealed in the sky and meant to happen just like this, and he stood by it for so long.
He stood by it when he found you in the backyard of your house after you went out for some air. He stood by it when he saw you at The Alley, when you were teaching the kids in the middle of the stage, and when he picked you up from Minnie’s apartment to have dinner with his mom, watching you come down the stairs as the wind made your hair flow. But when you set foot in his house after four years and sat at the table next to Nari, he felt that familiar feeling in his stomach return. Only God knew how bad it was, and how bad it could get.
Since then, Yoongi observed you like you were on a big screen, like he was far away and you were just a projection of his mind, just like you’ve been since you left. Were you on the stage, helping the kids with the script Harriet wrote and spinning around like a ballerina as you tried to help a girl to get a scene right.
He watched your hair flow around in red tights as if you were the main character in a technicolor film, like you were inside the screen and could not notice the way he pay attention to your every move, to the way you moved and the way you talked, the way your legs moved around and danced and kneeled in the floor as you observed the play, the way you laughed and smiled like he hadn’t seen in so long.
He didn’t have any right to watch you like that, not after breaking your heart like he did. He didn’t have the right to be around you, to look into your eyes, to even talk to you. He was well aware that he should be kept far away from you, as far as possible, but still, he physically couldn’t
“Are you gonna stand there staring or are you gonna help me?”
Suddenly, all his thoughts faded.
You were still turned around, with two big boxes stacked on top of each other in your hands.
Yoongi cleared his throat when you spinned around, facing him. He was quick to run to you, taking the boxes off your hands and brushing his fingers with your hands in the process. You thanked him, grabbing two other boxes and walking towards the exit without a second glance. Yoongi figured you had to decorate the theater today, for which he was not needed at all, but since he was free today he figured he could help.
You set the boxes on one of the seats, opening the first one to reveal a bunch of Halloween decorations. The place was already decorated, of course, it has been since the beginning of October, but you explained to him that you needed to go ‘all in’ for the party. It needed to be professional level Halloween decorations, those were your words.
“Is Namjoon coming today?” You asked him, pulling a bag of fake spiders out of the box.
He inhaled sharply.
“Why?” The word came out of his mouth before he could think twice.
You raised your head to look at him, but he pretended not to notice, leaving the boxes on another seat. He didn’t mean to sound abrupt, but he did anyway.
“He helped me with some cobwebs the other day.” You explained, resuming what you were doing. “Since he’s so tall and all.”
Yoongi searched for a hint of amusement in your face, but he found none. Were you really this good at teasing him?
Why was he falling for it?
Standing there, frozen in his place, he must’ve looked like a complete idiot, he was sure. What was he supposed to answer?
Right, the truth. Even if he didn’t like it.
“He’s coming later this afternoon.” He said, and he could’ve stopped the sentence right there, but no. He had to say something else. “But I can help with the cobwebs.”
You turned your whole body to face him, putting a hand on your hip as you thought about it. Something he couldn’t describe flashed in your eyes for the shortest of seconds. He could have sworn he saw the ghost of a smirk in your face.
“Mmm, I don’t know.” You said softly. “We might need the stairs.”
He bitterly scoffed. Right, you were teasing him.
Not like before, that was probably impossible. You threw a snarky comment at him and then immediately drew an invisible line. Like it was already part of you to do so, but you had decided to stop it.
Like the other night last week, when he found you in Minnie’s office with a frown on your face as you tried to figure out Photoshop. You were supposed to finish the final flyer for the party when he walked in, ready to say goodbye before finishing his day.
“What are you doing?” He couldn’t help but ask.
You were hunched over, with glasses on as you squinted at the computer, too focused to be annoyed at his presence. When you explained your situation, he dragged a chair next to you as he attempted to help you.
Yoongi didn’t know why. The truth was that he had no idea how to work Photoshop either, his presence there wasn’t useful at all. But he acted faster than he could think, as he had been doing lately, leaning in closer than necessary to look at the screen.
“This is a clear sign that you’re getting old.” He murmured next to you, grabbing the mouse and clicking some stuff to try to get the font right. Needless to say, he wasn’t doing much better than you.
“If I’m getting old, then what are you?” You murmured, crossing your arms above your chest and leaning back on the chair.
“You know you’re gonna be thirty soon, right?” He teased, still pretending he knew what he was doing.
You laughed despite yourself. “I’ve got a few good years before that happens. I’m practically a teenager.”
“You certainly act like one sometimes.” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching, his gaze flicking to yours for just a beat too long before he looked back at the screen.
You held an accusing finger towards him. “Watch it.”
He laughed under his breath. It was too dangerous, but every interaction, every word, every shared glance made him feel like he was floating on a cotton candy cloud. It was sweet and sticky and left him wanting more, but it faded too quickly on his tongue.
Then again, you always felt that way, so close but so far away. Always slipping through his fingers.
When he looked at you, he saw your glasses slipping down the bridge of your nose and your hair messy, probably from how many times your hands had run through it. He had to stop himself from asking if you wanted him to walk you home. He had been stopping himself from doing many things lately.
Just two days ago, he was reviewing The Alley’s permit documents and you were decorating the office as if it was as important as the party preparations. He felt his whole body temperature rising as if he had a fever.
“Okay, so the fire exits are all marked, the lights are compliant… but the emergency ladder by the stage still hasn’t been inspected,” He murmured, crossing his arms above his chest.
Yoongi heard you getting closer, but he only felt you when you peeked over his shoulders, eyes narrowing at the papers that were spread around like a battlefield. “That’s bad, I assume.” You said in a low voice, your breath close to his ear.
“Depends,” He said, feeling your shoulder brush with him as you stood beside him “If it’s not done by the council inspection, they could fine us, or worse.”
You leaned beside him, “You mean they could shut us down over a ladder?”
He nodded. “Wouldn’t be the first time something small turned into a disaster.”
“Perfect,” you said dryly, reaching for the pen in his hand without asking, your fingers brushing his.
His fingers twitched, his brain short-circuiting for half a second at the warmth of your touch. He didn’t mean to notice, didn’t mean to hold his breath, but he did.
“And what does ‘wiring compliance’ mean? Is that the lights, or the fog machine that almost killed Jungkook last week?”
Yoongi huffed, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Both. But mostly the fog machine.”
You let out a small groan. “You make it sound like this place is held together by tape.”
“Well…” he tried to joke, making you nudge his arm with your elbow.
You turned to him then, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. His eyes followed the movement before he could stop himself, your soft jaw, the curve of your neck, the faint glint of a thin gold chain just under your black t-shirt.
He was spiraling. His thoughts were faster than him, louder than him.
He closed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. God, he had to focus. He couldn’t be acting like this around you, he couldn’t be acting like this ever.
“Yoongi…?” You titled your head, voice soft. “Are you okay?”
No, he was not.
His name rolling off your tongue with so much ease made his stomach churn. He could feel his face growing hot, his thoughts were all over the place.
“Yeah, I just…” He sighed, “It’s just a headache.”
This wasn’t normal behavior, no. This was psychosis.
Or not. Perhaps he just needed to sleep. Or perhaps he needed to be kept away from you, just like he had been for the last four years. Perhaps he needed to go back to the life he’d been living — a life without you — where he came home from his boring job to his boring apartment, crawled into his too-big bed, and watched some boring show until he fell asleep, only to have a boring dream. Even his dreams were boring; it was like he didn’t allow himself to dream fully anymore. Maybe he never did.
And he was tired. He had been for quite a while. He felt his heart beating a little quieter with each passing day as he tried to ignore it.
But this life, the one he built with so much precision, was predictable. There were no surprises, no miscalculations, it was normal. He had his mom, he had Simon, he had Namjoon, he had Summer.
Right, Summer.
Summer, Summer, Summer.
Summer, who deserved someone who didn’t stare at other girls for way too long, or someone who didn’t think of someone else every waking second. Someone who didn’t doubt every choice they’ve ever made when they crossed looks with another girl.
The worst part was that Yoongi knew you weren’t just another girl. You were the girl with horns on her head, looking at him with angel eyes — the only one who had ever driven a stake through his chest. The only one he ever loved.
He wondered if Summer could feel it that day at the coffee shop. If she could sense it in the air, if she could hear his heart beating when he saw you across the room. It wasn’t right, none of it felt right.
Yoongi knew he was out of line, there was no need for anyone to remind him (Namjoon had already done it multiple times). But he insisted on it, tried to convince himself that was the life he chose, he was not going to regret it now.
It was too late.
There was a moment in time where a dangerous thought sneaked inside his mind every night. He would trade all of it if he could have you. That was exactly why he needed to leave you behind, even if it hurt in his bones, he had to let it go. He needed to. Even if he didn’t want to.
A few hours later, he tried to remind himself of it, but the universe thought otherwise.
“How’s your brother, by the way?” Yoongi heard the low voice of his so-called friend asking.“I haven’t seen him in a while.”
Kim Namjoon, or as Yoongi renamed him in his head, the traitor. Namjoon was the friend all the girls were always curious about. Yoongi had lost count how many times people had asked him if his friend was single, he had this charm that drove girls crazy. Yoongi never felt threatened about it, not until he decided to tease him with it every time you were in the room.
Yoongi observed you giving him a bright smile, climbing on the stairs and hanging up yet another cobweb beside him as he hung a big green sign on the wall. “He’s fine, working a lot as always.” You answered, clearly delighted at the sight of Namjoon’s skills.
“He’s not coming to the party, I assume.” Namjoon laughed, showing off his dimples.
“Oh, no. He’s too cool for that.” You laughed along with him, making Yoongi feel like someone just punched him in the stomach. “He bought a few tickets for the raffle, though. But I doubt he would be interested in any of the prices.”
“C’mon, wouldn’t he be interested in a tarot reading session?” His friend joked, and Yoongi would’ve laughed if it didn’t feel like he was flirting with you. He was already thinking the exact way he was going to punch Namjoon when he found him alone.
You chuckled “He would roll his eyes at that.”
“Sounds like someone I know.” Yoongi said from the stairs, intruding in the conversation.
The room went quiet for a moment. If it weren’t for the sixth Justin Bieber song playing in the background (Jungkook was testing the DJ set), it would’ve been completely silent.
One of the things that scared Yoongi the most about you, was the fact that you weren’t afraid to look him directly in the eyes, and right now you were piercing through his soul.
“Me?” You asked, playing nonchalant. “I like tarot.”
“I know you like tarot.” He simply said “I meant the eye-rolling thing.”
You shot a quick look at Namjoon, who was smiling with his eyes.
“I suppose you’re quite similar to your brother.” He said, trying to save the awkward moment.
“You think?” You sighed, going back to ignore Yoongi “I always thought we were so different. As different as people can be.”
“You are.” Namjoon confirmed, and Yoongi suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, what the fuck did he know? “From what I remember from high school he was, uh… something. And nothing like you, but somehow, similar.”
You snorted, probably knowing exactly what Namjoon meant. Simon was not just a player, he was the player. A complete menace.
“My mom always said that.” You nodded, looking down at your notebook. “Like there are parts of him in me and parts of me in him. I don’t think I fully understood what she meant, though.”
Yoongi climbed down the stairs, standing in front of you yet far enough so his heart wouldn’t start beating too fast. He bent his knees just enough to look at you eye to eye. “You have the same smile lines.”
He, more than anyone, knew how similar you were to Simon. He knew both of you like the palm of his hand, you had the same laugh, and the same shape of eyes. Neither of you liked sea food and you pouted the same way when you were upset. There were huge differences, tough; you were way prettier than him, way funnier, and had way better taste in music and in movies.
Yoongi ignored it for years, but being around his friend reminded him constantly of you, not only because Simon always talked about you, but because he was an older version of you.
But then, it clicked just a second after. That wasn’t something he was supposed to say out loud.
There were no rules between the two of you beyond the truce, no agreement had been made of how to act around each other, besides trying not to kill yourselves when working together. And if they were, he had forgotten all of it.
It was ridiculous, he knew. It was laughable, he was sure you would laugh at him in another situation. He tried to set boundaries, yet the urge to break each one of them every time you looked at his direction was overwhelming.
You blinked, startled, but he could tell you tried to hide it.
“I…” You said, and it sounded like you were holding your breath. “I guess we look quite similar.”
You stared at him for what it felt like hours, days, months, years, but it was not enough time to decipher what you were thinking. You looked at him as if you were trying to tell him something, a secret message, something only the two of you could understand, but he failed to understand.
And as fast as it came, it left. You looked down at your feet, cleared your throat and tried to act as if nothing happened, as if your eyes didn’t burn through his soul, as if he didn’t fuck this up once again.
“Uh… I have to go.” You said. “I have to- I forgot something.”
You turned around, walking towards the exit of the theater, leaving Yoongi with a hole in his chest.
But it wasn’t your fault, no. It was his. It had always been.
He stood there, staring at the exit as if he was waiting for you to come back.
“Dude, you’re such an idiot.” He heard Namjoon talk, making him lose his train of thought.
Yoongi rubbed his eyes, sighing. “Fuck you, I know.”
Little did Yoongi know that was just the beginning of his downfall.
For the rest of the week, Yoongi tried to escape from you.
Or at least that was how it felt.
He did his job, stood there when you needed him, but as soon as he was done, he disappeared. Maybe he was panicking, but he believed it was for the best, he no longer could allow himself to lose his mind every time you were around. He had to focus, and avoiding you seemed to be the most logical option, right?
He tried really hard, even if the universe seemed to be laughing at him.
It was like something was putting you in his way. On the hallways, on tiny closets, bumping in the kitchen when he was just trying to make himself a coffee. Brushing fingers when you handed him something, brushing shoulders when you walked past him. The other day you almost bumped foreheads with each other when you were trying to make your way towards the stage.
But then again, he was reminded that he was the one who put himself in that place.
He only had himself to blame, he couldn’t hide the truth even if he wanted to. It was laid in front of everyone’s eyes.
The Alley was one of the last places in this town that still held your essence. For the big hall, to the chairs of the theater and the room where he kissed you for the first time. The logical thing would be to stay away from it, to elongate his way home just to avoid passing by this street and never visit it again, but ever since that cold morning four years ago, he couldn’t seem to be kept away from it.
He was the one who offered legal help, the one who decided to be involved in every single detail, to come to help when he was not working, to let this place occupy his mind.
He was a logical man, of logical thoughts and logical actions. But this was the only thing he couldn’t explain with rational thinking .Yoongi knew the answer was so simple, yet so painful.
Of course it was because of you.
You.
Even if you weren’t there, it was always you.
“Yoongi.”
He raised his head towards the owner of the voice.
You, again.
He nodded in agreement, even though he didn’t have a clue what you were saying.
You laughed under your breath. “So?”
Yoongi was sitting front row in the theater, counting the minutes to leave and take a nap. The Alley was showing Scream before the party, so that meant he had about two hours to sleep and prepare before showing up.
Minnie was finally back again, so that meant the day was a whirlwind of activity. She paraded around full of energy, filling every corner of the place with screams of excitement, anger, and joy. It made Yoongi miss you in charge, even if you were still strict and people were intimidated by you, you spoke softer, calmer.
You were sitting on the edge of the stage, right in front of him, with your phone in your hands. Yoongi noticed that you were wearing purple glitter in your eyes today, he figured it had to do with the holiday, but what made him pay attention was the hint of amusement in your face… What did you just ask him?
“Sorry, I zoned out for a minute.” He said, shaking his head. “What were you saying?”
“Minnie is asking what are you wearing tonight.” You showed him the screen of your phone, shaking it in front of his face.
“Uh…” He hesitated to reply, because maybe he should save the answer for himself. “I don’t know, I’ll figure something out with what I have.”
You shot him a glare. “She’s not going to be happy about that.”
“I’ll make her happy enough.”
At least he learnt to keep his mouth shut. Or something like that.
He didn’t want to tell you that Summer had texted him this morning asking him the same question. She had been asking the same thing for days now, and each time she received the same answer, so she had decided to take the matter in her own hands.
Yoongi had no idea what that meant, but Summer told him not to worry about it and that she would handle it. It scared him a little.
You kept texting, probably informing Minnie about his situation. He could already hear the amount of insults he would receive if he didn’t show up in a costume, for a moment he prayed that Summer’s back up plan worked.
He sank deeper in the chair, already tired.
He should’ve been home by now, but for some reason he prolonged his time there, claiming that he wanted to help until the last minute in case something went wrong.
And you should’ve been home, too. But you were there, enjoying the silence in his company like you had been doing every day for the past two weeks. And for some strange reason, it wasn’t weird.
It wasn’t comfortable either, Yoongi knew this. But it was like you began acting in this automatic way where feelings weren’t allowed, he could tell. He wished he could do the same, but instead he found himself getting lost in his thoughts more often than he wished.
There, with his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on your knees. You were wearing combat boots, a plaid dark purple skirt and a black sweater. The gold chain wrapped around your neck.
The gold chain.
Wrapped around your neck.
There he goes again.
Trying to snap out of it, he asked “What are you wearing?” He could only hope he didn’t sound too awkward, but you seemed to be used to him by now. You didn’t flinch when he talked to you, you didn’t look like you wanted to kill him… all the time.
You shrugged, your feet swinging back and forth. “I didn’t have much time to think. I’ll come up with something, too.”
That night, The Alley was wrapped in cobwebs and flashing neon lights coming from the laser projector. The laughter cut through the loud music, the fog machine was breathing in and out like an old lung, the whole place smelled like weed, smoke and melted wax. Even if The Alley didn’t have the highest of budgets, it managed to disguise the whole place as a haunted house.
The movie ended long ago, so people in costumes were dispersed all over the halls, the bathrooms, the kitchen, the bar and the backyard. There was a buzz in the air, something that made his heart pound.
Most nights, the weak yellow lights barely reached the ceiling, but tonight seemed like a completely different place, like a memory buried deep inside Yoongi’s mind.
In the end, Summer had somewhat saved him. She arrived at his apartment with nothing more than a red vest in her hands, making Yoongi more confused than he already was.
She was wearing this sparkly pink dress, a glittery crown and had a magic wand in her hand. Her hair was tied up in a half pony tail and her lips were so glossy they shined.
“I’m Glinda!” She explained with a smile on her face. “And you’re supposed to be Fiyero.”
That didn’t make Yoongi less confused, as if he knew what any of those words meant, for his sake, he decided to go along with her.
Luckily, Summer made sure that Yoongi understood their costumes. “It’s from Wicked.” She said, rolling her eyes. “Glinda is Fiyero’s girlfriend.”
Then, Summer proceeded to talk about the new movie and the plot, the characters, the songs, but she made Yoongi promise to keep a secret: she didn’t watch it all the way through. He couldn’t blame her, because he hadn’t seen it either.
He was thankful that she saved him, but the idea of a couple’s costume made his stomach twist.
It wasn’t like he didn’t like Summer. He did, he had never dated someone for this long. She was funny, kind and his mom loved her. Those were the main reasons why he decided to ask her out, and why he kept spending time with her. But lately it felt like coming down from a high, it felt right at first, like something like he was supposed to do, but soon enough felt wrong. He was too afraid to admit it, to say it out loud, to accept the fact that he didn’t feel anything when he kissed her.
He tried to be rational, he tried. Why wouldn’t he want to be with her? She was beautiful and nice, she was there, with the whitest of smiles, willing to make this night worth it, he figured he should. He had to.
He put on the vest on top of his white shirt and hoped that Minnie would think this was an acceptable costume. If he was lucky, no one would ask him about it. If he was lucky, he could pass unnoticed for the rest of the night and go to bed early.
Perhaps you were right, this was way past his bed time. He wasn’t used to parties like this anymore, maybe when he was twenty and Simon dragged him to frat parties just to get drunk out of their minds on a Wednesday, but now it was a completely different story. Regardless of that, tonight the thread in his chest was pulling him in, making him stay.
And then, he saw you.
He was a bit late, so the party had already started by the time he arrived. It was full of people, more than Yoongi would’ve imagined, and he thought he was safe because maybe he wouldn’t see you for a while at first, but when he walked into the room, you were the first thing he saw.
He pretended he didn’t feel it, but it wrecked a part of his soul. Seeing you there, coming down the stage wearing a short strapless black dress, too short for his own sake, green tights and a pointy witch hat over your head. He was hit by a flashback so vivid it made him dizzy.
You, on a black dress.
You, on top of him.
You, on his bed.
When he turned right, there was Summer. Bright and flashy and full of excitement. She saw you too.
Before Yoongi could snap out of it, Summer grabbed his arm, dragging him directly in your direction. “Oh my God, let’s go say hi!” She exclaimed, cheerful.
Not this again.
She surfed through the sea of people, trying to reach the stage where you were still standing, in the last step of the stage. It wasn't that high, but you were eye to eye with him.
Your eyes caught his, sparkling under the neon lights in the dark. You had a dark but subtle make up that made your gaze sharper and glossy lips. You held his stare for a second and then, your eyes fell on Summer.
“You look stunning!” She yelped as soon as she got the chance.
You seemed surprised and a bit startled, but there was no bitterness in your eyes, no sign of being upset, not like last time you encountered the two of them.
“You actually came.” You said softly, your tone light. His chest tightened at the casualness.
“We did.” he muttered, tugging at the collar of his Fiyero outfit like it could shield him from yet another uncomfortable situation. You, however, didn’t seem shaken at all. There it was again, that smile that decorated your lips when you were working in the play, when you were decorating the halls, when you were testing the DJ set. You seemed happy.
“I had to make him dress up.” Summer explained to you as if you were friends, but you didn’t seem to mind.
“I figured that much.” You smiled gently, taking a good look at their outfits. “So… Glinda?” You glanced at Summer. The motion sent a shiver down Yoongi’s spine.
Summer nodded repeatedly, probably relieved that you were in a good mood tonight. “And are you Elphaba?”
“I don’t know, I guess I tried?” You scrunched your nose “What about you, Fiyero?”
He shook his head, trying not to roll his eyes. “Don’t ask me any questions.”
“I knew you weren’t that fun. I bet you didn’t even watch the movie.” You accused him, making Summer laugh.
“I have a costume, don’t I?” He sighed.
“Barely.” You said, turning to Summer again. “You look beautiful by the way.” Summer almost melted on the spot. “There's an open bar until one a.m, and pizza in the kitchen. Enjoy the night.”
You reached the floor, waving goodbye and disappearing into the crowd, leaving both of them speechless.
As soon as he reached the bar, he asked for a beer.
“Never thought I’d see you drunk.” Jungkook’s bubbly voice filled Yoongi’s ears as they leaned on the wall, watching the party unfold.
“I’m not drunk.” He said, taking the beer bottle to his lips one more time.
The room was dark, and he could barely see the faces of the people dancing in front of him, or where Summer was, or who took her to dance after he told her that he preferred to stay there for a while.
“Yeah, and I’m not high.” Jungkook laughed. He was dressed as a skeleton, he had a black body suit clung to his frame, the bones were printed down his chest and arms, but he was still wearing dark jeans and combat boots. Still, the most impressive part of his outfit was the make up on his face, it looked like it was done in a hurry and yet it looked impressive enough. There was black paint smudged under his eyes and jaw, making his bone structure more noticeable. He told him one of the girls from the staff offered to do it for him ten minutes before the party started.
It wasn’t too elaborate, but it earned him the third spot in the costume contest. He had been wearing the brown medal on his neck all night, absolutely proud of it.
Yoongi checked the clock on his phone and realized it wasn’t even one am, and even if he wouldn’t admit it, it was too early to be this drunk.
Still, he kept drinking.
“What do you think of her?” The question travelled through the loud sound of S&M by Rihanna, making him raise his gaze to look at Jungkook looking at a specific point in the dancefloor.
A bit confused, he followed Jungkook’s gaze and froze.
You were dancing with Minnie, laughing and breathless in the center of the crowd, your body moving to the beat as if the music was part of you. The lights kept shifting, washing over your bare skin in flashes violet and red, tracing the curve of your neck, your legs. Your hair was loose, flowing all over the place.
He gulped. “What about her?”
Jungkook laughed under his breath, as if it was obvious. “I’ve been thinking of asking her to dance.” He confessed. “Or is it too soon?”
He forced a small laugh, even though his throat felt dry.
“Too soon?” He repeated, his eyes glued to you like he was hypnotized.
“You know, she just got out of a relationship with that asshole.” Jungkook explained, bringing the disgusting image of your ex to Yoongi’s mind.
“Ah, that fucker, yes.” He hummed. “But you’re worrying about the wrong thing, kid. I think you’d have to actually reach her first.”
Jungkook chuckled, not catching the edge of his voice. “C’mon, man. I may not be a movie star, but I’m good enough.”
He was right. Jungkook was no movie star, but he was exactly the type of guy you used to drool over when you were fourteen watching MTV. The kind of guys were tall, had piercings and dressed all in black, which made Yoongi shift uncomfortably.
He tried to focus on the music, on the crowd, on anything else beside you, but every small movement you made seemed to burn itself into his mind.
Jungkook was okay, but you were a different kind of girl. Way out of everyone’s league, even his.
“Well, maybe for any other girl.” He shrugged, trying to sound detached. “But for her? You’re aiming… pretty high, don’t you think?”
Jungkook paused for a second, but Yoongi was in a haze, way too drunk to try to imagine what was happening in Jungkook’s mind, way too drunk to care. “That sounds like a challenge to me.” He said with a grin.
Jungkook stepped forward, leaving his place next to Yoongi to dive into the crowd towards you, but you didn’t notice him yet, you were too caught up in the music.
Yoongi tried to follow each movement in the dark as he felt his stomach tighten, his hands twitching, itching to do something, say something, even if he knew it was wrong.
Maneater by Nelly Furtado began blasting when Jungkook reached you, you noticed him and smiled, grabbing the hand he just offered to you.
The fact that you’ve barely spoken to him during the whole night was almost painful, which was ridiculous. He came with someone else, and you were free to do whatever you wanted, even if that was dancing with Jungkook.
Jungkook pulled you towards him, making you giggle as he made you spin. Yoongi wanted to look away, to stop paying attention to the grip of Jungkook’s hands on your waist, or the way your hips moved, the way your hair danced with you, but he couldn’t. Maybe because he knew that was all he had, that was what he had to settle for.
So he observed from the dark corner of the room where nowhere could see him. He had his eyes so focused on you as if you were about to disappear at any moment. Maybe you were, maybe this was just an oasis in the middle of the desert, a brief moment where you appeared, wrecked his word, made him doubt himself until you broke him, and then you would disappear back to your normal life. A life without him.
Then, when the song ended, right before another one began, you looked around and accidentally glanced back briefly, catching his eyes as he took another sip of his beer. Neither of you said or did anything, nor an acknowledging smile or a vague wave, the both of you stood in the distance, staring at each other with eyes filled with poison.
It was three a.m when Yoongi thought the night should be over, but no one seemed to agree with him. The party was still at its peak, the music was still blasting from the speakers, people kept dancing, drinking, kissing.
He had already danced a little when Summer begged him to, he had drunk more than enough, talked a bunch of nonsense with Namjoon all night, tried to ignore you dancing with Jungkook and focus on the girl beside him, the girl he had come here with in the first place, but it was difficult to focus on anything at all when he was this drunk.
The night wasn’t going any faster either. It dragged slowly, the way he figured it would go when you felt this miserable.
Now he was ready to leave and end this night once for all. Summer had gathered her things and seemed to have had enough of it as well, but when he was about to be out the door, Minnie appeared behind him, her voice tight with exhaustion. “There’s a problem backstage with the cables and the fog machine. It’s cutting in and out.”
He frowned, confused, why would she want him to fix that right now? He wanted to tell her to turn it off and call it a night. “Right now?”
Minnie pouted, putting her hands together in a plea. “Pretty please. I won’t ask anything else from you.”
“I highly doubt that.” He let out a chuckle, too tired to fight back.
“What if it explodes?” She exaggerated, but she was right, and he was already drunk enough to feel confident he could handle it.
“Alright, take me there.” he muttered, leaving Summer behind for a moment.
She took him to a tiny storage space behind the stage, full of coiled cables and equipment. There was a faint yellow light that poorly illuminated the tight closet, which made Yoongi aware that he was not as sober as he thought, but he was going to try anyway. The fog machine sat on the floor, making a loud sound that almost left Yoongi deaf.
“Here, look at this,” Minnie said, pointing to a tangle of wires. “It’s probably just a loose connection, but-”
“Got it,” Yoongi interrupted, already crouching beside the mess, taking in the problem. “Where are the tools?”
Minnie straightened, rubbing her temples. “Hold on, they are in another room. I’ll be back.”
Then, he left him there, sitting on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. The only sound in the tiny room was the old fog machine who threatened to kill him at any moment.
He was supposed to be on his way home by now. He was hot, tired, drunk and needed a glass of water and maybe a shower too. His whole word was spinning, he was just realizing.
After a few minutes, he heard steps approaching, but it wasn’t Minnie’s hurried pace he was so used to hearing. He saw your feet covered by your green tights first, it looked like you had gotten rid of your shoes a long time ago.
“What’s that sound?” You asked, making him glance up. You stood there with the box of tools in your hands. Your cheeks were flushed, and your witch hat was gone, probably lost somewhere on the dance floor after one of those spins Jungkook had pulled you into. That’s what Yoongi imagined, anyway. “What are you doing on the floor?”
Yoongi blinked and returned to his crouched position beside the fog machine. “What are you doing here?” He asked, narrowing his eyes to look at you clearly.
You knelt down next to him, careful not to step on the scattered cables. The hem of your black dress shifted higher, but you didn’t notice or maybe you didn’t care. You just swept your hair over one shoulder so it wouldn’t get in the way. “Minnie handed me the tools and sent me here, I think it was because Thrilled started playing and she didn’t want to miss it.” Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh. He was there fixing this mess and she was out on the dance floor. “What are you doing, by the way?” You asked curiously.
“Minnie asked me to fix it,” he muttered, his voice rough and slightly slurred.
Yoongi averted your gaze, pretending to focus on the mess of wires in front of him. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and turned on the flashlight since the weak light on the ceiling was useless.
“She really couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” you asked, your voice carrying that teasing softness he knew too well.
“She said the fog machine was the soul of the party,” he said, rummaging through the box until he found a screwdriver. His hands weren’t steady—too much alcohol, too little patience—but he started tightening the loose clamp anyway, muttering something under his breath as if the wires could hear him.
You leaned in, close enough for him to catch the faint smell of your plump perfume over the smell of the old closet. “She’s not lying, though.” You said, grabbing the phone off his hands without permission, your hands brushing together without care.
“Are you sure?” He asked before he could stop himself. “I thought you were the soul of the party.”
You scoffed, “Why is that?”
“I don’t know.” He said so low it might as well could be a whisper. “You danced all night long with that kid.”
“Jungkook, you mean?” He hummed in response. You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Well, I had to make up for those who weren’t dancing.”
Yoongi snorted, half amused. “I danced.”
You shot him a look, it was playful, but it felt way too intimate. “If that’s what you call dancing, sure.”
He twisted a loose wire between his fingers, pretending to focus on it. “So you were watching.”
“I paid attention.” You hummed. Maybe you were a bit drunk, too, otherwise you wouldn't be so willing to help him at this hour of the night. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“No.” He let out a low chuckle without looking up, “I mean, yeah. Don’t worry. I’m just… not in my five senses right now.”
“You’re drunk.” You said, laughing under your breath. “But it’s okay, I am too. And a little high.”
“I’m not drunk.” he muttered, squinting at the mess of wires like they were moving on their own. “Not that drunk, anyway.”
You arched a brow, the corner of your mouth twitching. “Should I trust you not to set this place on fire?”
“No, not at all.” He chuckled, ignoring the way you rolled your eyes.
There was a pause, a quiet silence despite the loud sound of the fog machine and the music outside. Yoongi thought that was it, the end of the conversation. A rare glimpse of you, and the version he used to know, until-
“So…” You said, making him flinch. “You didn’t watch Wicked.”
“I can’t say I did.” He shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the tangle of wires. “I just wore what she gave me.”
She. It was ridiculous. He couldn’t even bring himself to say her name in front of you.
“Obviously,” you muttered, letting out a small sigh.
“Why?” he asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Am I not the target audience for Wicked?”
“Well, no. I don’t think so,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “But also because… you should know this, Fiyero and Glinda are a terrible choice for a couple’s costume.”
“Why, exactly?” His curiosity got the better of him.
“Mmm… because Fiyero doesn’t end up with Glinda at the end.”
His gaze lifted, locking onto yours. “Is that right?” You hummed, nodding, “Who does he end up with, then?”
Yoongi watched his lips twitch into a smile, but you shook your head. “I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you.”
It sent him into a spiral. The light of his flashlight illuminated your face, catching the way you slightly bit your lower lip,soft, and tempting. His chest tightened as his eyes traced the curve of your mouth, the mouth he had kissed so many times.
He tried to look away, but couldn’t. His gaze drifted down, to your defined jaw, your exposed neck and the faint shimmer of the gold chain resting just above the curve of your chest, the low neckline of your dress in front of him and the heat pooling in his stomach, making impossible to focus on whatever the fuck he was supposed to be fixing.
“Be careful, Fiyero.” You suddenly said, pushing his chin up with your finger. “I might hex you if you stare too much.”
Yoongi cheekily smirked, not ashamed at all for being caught, “I think I’m already cursed.” He murmured.
You swallowed, looking at him like he just said something he wasn’t supposed to.
A beat of silence stretched between you before he spoke again, too fast, like the words had been sitting on his tongue for hours.
“It’s not a couple’s costume,” he blurted out.
Your eyebrows drew together. “What?”
“Me and Summer…” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It’s not- we’re not-”
You tilted your head, eyes narrowing. “It’s not what? Not serious?”
“No, I mean- I think what I want to say is that it’s nothing.”
You pressed your lips together, and for a moment, he thought you were going to laugh at him. “You don’t need to explain anything to me.”
He clicked his tongue, nodding. “I know.”
But you held his haze, watching his parted lips, waiting for him to say something else, to explain himself, to give you a different answer, and then, the machine hissed loudly, letting out a burst of white smoke that made the two of you flinch.
“See? Not that drunk.” He whispered, his face way too close to yours.
You drew in a sharp breath, chest rising and falling. Something shifted in your eyes—Yoongi couldn’t place what—but it made you pull back and stand up immediately.
He rose to his feet right after you, your eyes still locked. You pressed his phone into his chest, returning it, and his hand closed over yours.
For some reason, you didn’t pull away.
Yoongi’s gaze flicked down to your mouth and back up, feeling the heat of your stare. “That still gets me, you know.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“The way you look at me,” he murmured, voice low.
Opening your eyes widely, you shook your head in denial. “You’re imagining things now.”
“Maybe.” He leaned slightly, closing the space between you and him bit by bit. “But if I am… You’re not exactly running.”
You stiffened for a moment, dropping your cold hand from his soft grip, but you were unable to escape his proximity. Your eyes flicked to his lips before darting away.
“I should go.” You murmured so low it might as well have been a secret.
“Then go.”
But you didn’t, and neither did he. The fog from the machine curled around your ankles, a soft white haze that made the closet feel smaller than it already was.
Yoongi exhaled slowly, “Can I ask you what’s happening?” His voice was rough, hesitant. The alcohol could have made it easier to ask, but harder to articulate.
You swallowed, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands. “Nothing is happening.” Your words were almost a whisper, and your gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before flicking up at him again. “You’re drunk.”
“But it is.” He rubbed the back of his neck, swaying slightly on his feet. “Because I can’t-because I shouldn’t. But… here we are.”
Dead silence stretched, thick and suffocating. You didn’t know what to say, he already knew.
“Don’t you remember what you told me that day?” you finally murmured. His gaze searched for any sharpness in your eyes, but there was none. You looked at him with tenderness, like a past memory, an old feeling.
“I remember everything,” he admitted, and for a moment, you looked down at your feet, as if trying to anchor yourself.
“I do too,” you whispered. “You told me it shouldn’t have happened. That it was best to forget… for everyone’s sake. Didn’t you say that?”
He nodded slowly. His chest ached, a hollow squeeze in his heart. “Yes,” he murmured. “But… what if I’m the one who can’t forget?”
You didn’t answer, just shifted slightly, and he stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. His arm lifted, resting against the wall beside you, caging you.
His eyes flicked down to your lips, then back to your eyes, searching, daring. The closet felt impossibly small, the fog machine’s hiss and the hum of the wires fading into the background.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the two of you. “Yoongi, it’s been years…” You said, “I did exactly what you told me, what can I do now?”
“I know, I know.” He swallowed, his throat tight, as if the words themselves were heavy. “It’s just… I’m tired. So tired…”
The world around him blurred, the air was too heavy. He didn’t understand why you hadn’t left, why you hadn’t punched him, cursed him, or sent him straight to hell along with all his regrets. And yet, here you were, standing so close he could feel the warmth radiating from you, listening.
“Yoongi… do you know…” Your voice trembled slightly, taking a deep breath. “Do you know how many years I’ve waited for you?”
The question hung between you, catching him off guard. He raised his eyebrows, opening his eyes widely as he shook his head, unsure if he could utter a word.
“Me neither,” you whispered, your voice was laced with so much sweetness it made Yoongi want to throw up. Still, you moved just a fraction closer, until the scent of you filled the space between them. “But even so… they’re more than the years I haven’t waited for you. I’ve got to change that.”
He nodded, your words settling deeply in his chest. You were right, you couldn’t do anything about it, it was his fault. Why was he even bringing this up? Why was he here? Why were you here with him, in this closet, caged between heavy breaths and unspoken words like so many years ago?
It was over, he knew. He always knew it.
Then, why?
Why, why, why couldn't he forget about you? Why did he keep running away? Why did he keep dating girls who were the exact opposite as you to avoid thinking of you? To try to forget you?
It was written here, in this town, in these walls, in his old bed, in the same dancefloor where he kissed you for the first time, in his hands, his chest, his mind, his heart.
What you had was something so deeply attached to his soul that he was afraid he would have to carry it like a cross for the rest of his life.
He wanted you to free him from it, to forgive him, to make him forget. He wanted to say sorry, to make up for it, this time for real.
When he opened his mouth to speak, to do something about it, the spell broke.
“There you are!” A bubbly voice cut through the silence, making Yoongi jump in place, his chest tightening as he realized how exposed the two of you were. You stiffened, instinctively stepping backwards, your sudden movement shattering the fragile tension.
Yoongi’s gaze flicked to Summer. Her face had gone pale, her expression unreadable, but her eyes… they told him everything he already knew, everything he shouldn’t have let happen.
“I… uh…” Yoongi muttered, trying to compose himself, his hand dropping from the wall to his side.
You swore under your breath, cheeks hot, and muttered, “I’m sorry, I should go.”
Before Yoongi could breathe, you stepped further from him. You didn’t have to apologize for anything, it was him who did.
He watched you walk out the door, leaving him with a hole carved in the middle of his chest, bleeding.
“What happened?” Summer spoke, her voice weak.
He looked at her, wanting to ask the same question. “Shall we go?”
On the way out, Yoongi almost collided with Minnie by the door. She was leaning against Namjoon, sharing a cigarette, the smoke curling around them like a small cloud. Their eyes lit up when they saw him.
“Did you fix it?” Minnie asked, a smile tugging at her lips as if she already knew the answer.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “But that thing doesn’t have much longer, I already told you.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She rolled her eyes, taking a slow drag from her cigarette. “Where’s your girl, by the way?”
Yoongi exhaled, the weight of the night pressing down on him. “She’s in the bathroom. We’re about to leave.”
Minnie hummed, a teasing note in her voice. “Did you have fun?”
“I think we did,” he replied, but his voice lacked conviction.
“Mmm, I don’t believe you for one minute.”
Yoongi wanted to laugh—he really did—but the hole that ached in his chest made it impossible.
His eyes drifted to the faint traces of smoke curling in the air, his thoughts wandering to the closet, the fog machine, your silly tone before he fucked everything up again.
“Can I ask you something?” he said, and Minnie’s gaze snapped to him, immediately attentive.
“What is it?”
“Have you seen Wicked?”
“Of course, what kind of question is that?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.
“Well… do you know who Fiyero ends up with at the end?” he asked, a hint of hesitance in his voice.
A mischievous smile spread across Minnie’s face. “Easy. With the Wicked Witch of the West.”
taglist: @kingofbodyrolls , @overtherainbow35 , @namin13 , @p34rluv , @moonchild1 , @yoongisoftface , @namgihours @idkjustlovingbts , @yoongisducky , @bangtansmauyeondan , @tarahardcore @wobblewobble822 @secfir @ot72025 @baechugff @heroinanne @mortal-body-timelesssoul @hiii-priestess @wii-wii @jungkookies1002 @busanbby-jjk @acquiescence804 @yoongibaybee @hsbongwater @ot7stansthings @curiouslioncutie @jalexad @lynnibears @benyhime @ktownshizzle @kiki-zb @ukelelethethird
