↠ Summary: The workplace isn’t for everyone. It can be mundane and repetitive, with some describing it like a nuisance and others as a blessing. You’re the kind that leans more towards the latter and while it does make you an ideal candidate for many things, nothing could have prepared you for the whirlwind that is the new employee.
↠ Warnings: pg13, financial struggles
GIF credit.
↠ Next Update: Friday, August 11 (tag list over here)
The chair harshly slams down against the ground.
“WHAT?!”
You press a finger immediately to your lips, hushing down Hoseok. He appears to be in between a loss of colour in his complexion and suppressing the urge to faint somewhere.
Taehyung sharply inhales, staring at you dead in the eyes.
“So you’re telling me the guy that we all need to mentor is the CEO’s son…?”
You nod, “More or less.”
“Excuse me, I think I need a moment to freak out.” Hoseok starts pacing around the break room in circles.
After you came across the conclusion, your instinct was to let them on the news the moment you pieced it together.
To be quite frank, Hoseok and Taehyung are embodying your exact feelings. The harmless interaction didn’t seem much to you in the past, but now it’s dropping some regrets over your head.
Yoongi crosses his arms, “Are you sure about this?”
You hum, handing him your phone, “Jungkook texted me last night and sent me this article that confirmed it.”
A hand presses against your temples, “I also remember meeting him at a department party, but it was so long ago.”
That’s another thing that’s also stuck in your head. You had previously met Seokjin, but the memory you had of him was so vague.
He could have easily been someone you merely bypassed in the grocery store and didn’t give a second glance to. There was no overflowing confidence or self-praise remarks – characteristics that would have surely allowed you to remember him.
“Seems legit.” Yoongi remarks, looking over at Hoseok and Taehyung, “Also, I think you guys need to calm down.”
You swivel, noticing Hoseok was still pacing around and that Taehyung looked like he was on the verge of throwing up.
“But how?!” Taehyung questions, “We have to train him soon and–“
He freezes.
“What is it?” Yoongi ponders.
“I-Isn’t he supposed to be heading into my department next…?”
Hoseok halts his steps immediately, glancing at you with desperation in his eyes.
“Any chance your restaurant is still hiring?”
Taehyung shifts closer, “Can I come with?!”
“Okay, I really think you guys need to just relax.” You gently guide them to sit down with you again, settling into your spot, “CEO’s son or not, we’ve been told he needs to be trained and you all need to make sure you do your part in that.”
Hoseok, although dejected, hums at your words.
“Going based off what you said…I’m still confused as to why he’s working here.”
You peer at Yoongi, “Is it the lack of experience and or the lack of seriousness that’s getting to you?”
He hums, “There’s going to be a huge gap in his knowledge, regardless of all the shadowing going on.”
“Maybe his dad couldn’t find anybody else for the position?” Hoseok suggests.
“That’s a good point.” Taehyung says.
“Whatever it is, things are definitely going to start to change around here.” Yoongi states and you hum in agreement.
It’s not long before Hoseok begins to calm down, stating the best way to deal with the new piece of knowledge is to remain professional and to completely forget about Seokjin’s soon-to-be status. Taehyung on the other hand, also accepts his inevitable fate, though he does question if there’s still any chance he could still get hired at your other workplace.
A deep sigh leaves you as they leave, but Yoongi lingers behind.
“Is it bothering you?”
“Huh?” You peer up, not realizing he was still there. At his pointed gaze, the corner of your mouth curls, “A little.”
You cross your arms and shrug, “I’m just regretting the way I trained him. Maybe if I had been a little bit more polite and just–“
“He barely knew what he was doing.” Yoongi states with an amused smile. “If anything, you should have been much harsher.”
You mimic his smile, “You mean ignore him?”
“He’s definitely the kind you can’t ignore.” Yoongi scoffs, yet there’s warmth in his gaze, “But I guess…he’s not so bad…”
You widen your eyes, exaggeratingly placing your hand on your mouth and faking a gasp.
“Is he growing on you, Yoongi?”
He immediately deadpans, “You heard nothing.”
You let out a laugh at that and Yoongi quirks up a small smile.
The sound of typing against a keyboard resonates through the air.
“Why are you putting the assets over there?”
“It has to balance out with the liabilities and shareholder’s equity.”
“Why does it have to balance out?”
“It’s called a balance sheet. It’s in the name.”
“But wouldn’t it be better to surround yourself with assets and not liabilities?”
Silence follows through – but then you hear a loud thud and squeaky laughter resonate through the right side of your cubicle. Although the past couple of hours have been dreadful for you in terms of workload, the sound manages to capture your attention.
“Yah Yoongi-ah! That was so funny, why aren’t you laughing?”
“Because it wasn’t funny.”
“It was! You know how you explained liabilities is like owing someone something and that assets are valuable? That would mean you should only surround yourself with assets!”
“It’s still not funny.”
“You, my man, really need to invest in a funny bone sooner or later.”
You shake your head, blinking a couple of times. Leaning over, you attempt to grab a sip of your coffee.
“Okay, okay, how about this one? Why is it so hard for a financial analyst to stay on his toes?”
Silence reigns heavy again and you hear muffled laughter.
“Because….they always ‘lose their balance’.”
You choke on the warm liquid, immediately setting the cup down. Rising up to your feet, you glance down at your shirt, realizing there were drops of coffee staining it.
Yoongi helplessly peers over at you.
“Are you here to help me out of my misery?”
“Oh no, this one’s all yours, Yoongi.” You smile, gesturing behind you, “I’m going to go clean up.”
But the moment you swivel– “I’ll come with you!”
Seokjin grins and you raise a brow, “What?”
“Come on, it’ll be fun! And I’m sure Yoongi doesn’t mind, right Yoongi?”
Yoongi whispers underneath his breath, “Please spare my soul.”
“Great, let’s go Y/N!” He loops his arm around yours and before you know it, you’re being whisked away within moments much to Yoongi’s relief.
By the time you reach the breakroom, you let go of his arm and look around for a napkin, “You do realize I just came here to clean up, right?”
You turn around, noticing Seokjin’s curious eyes roam around before he suddenly blinks, “Huh?”
“Nevermind.” You shake your head, cleaning off the stains.
You thankfully get rid of them after a couple of minutes, raising your head to see Seokjin still staring at the ceiling. “Let’s go.”
His head snaps down, “Already?”
“Well yeah, Yoongi needs to mentor you.” You’re about to exit the room when his hand latches onto you.
You raise a brow and he lets go immediately, “Isn’t there something interesting around here? Something other than….” He gestures towards the cubicles, scrunching up his features as if he had eaten a lemon.
“Unfortunately not.” You politely state, “This is the workplace and we work towards goals for the company, so I don’t know how interesting that would be to the CEO’s son.”
“It’s kind of boring if you ask m–“
He falters, eyes rounding.
“W-What did you just say?”
“This is the workplace and we work towards goals for the–“
“Before that!”
“The CEO’s son?” You knit your brows together, wondering why he looked so frightened. “Am I wrong?”
“N–yes!” He swallows, but the stern look in your eyes doesn’t waver.
His gaze averts and the ends of his ears tinge pink, “H-How do you know who I am?”
“There’s headlines about the CEO Namjung planning to step back and letting his son take the position in the future.” You reply, “Which I’m assuming is you.”
You watch as a hint of surprise flickers over his features, quickly replaced with somberness.
He mutters underneath his breath. “Of course there’s headlines.”
“By the way, thanks for lying to me.”
He squints, “What are you talking about?”
“About me not being familiar.” You bring up, “I met you at a company party once.”
If you thought he looked surprised before, he looks downright speechless now.
At his prolonged silence, you lean closer to him and tilt your head.
“Why do you look like I just asked for both your kidneys?”
Life returns to his features, “You can’t tell anyone!”
“Tell anyone what? That I randomly bumped into you at a party and met your CEO dad?” You shrug, “What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that I have a reputation to keep around here.” He hisses.
“Reputation?”
If anything, that seemed like the last thing he was concerned about.
“You wouldn’t understand.” He scoffs, “You just can’t tell anyone, okay?”
“Well, this is awkward.” You nonchalantly sigh and he stares at you wide-eyed, “My coworkers already know about it.”
Seokjin’s jaw drops open and you sweetly smile, “You should have just told me you remembered me before I spilled the beans.”
“You–“
“What’s going on here?”
Taehyung is frozen at the door, gawking between you and Seokjin. He could hear parts of your quarrel from nearby and he wonders how on earth you managed to collect enough courage to bicker with him like this.
But what he doesn’t know is that you’re beginning to notice how obvious the truth is. Regardless of his status, Seokjin is just like any other employee and as such, that’s what you see him as.
Something that Taehyung truthfully lacks.
There’s a humble smile on his lips, words coated in sugar, “Yoongi said he’s finished with mentoring you, Mr. Soon-To-Be CEO.”
Seokjin finally snaps from his frustration with you, whipping his head around. He barely acknowledges the nickname he’s been given, more attune to other precedent issues.
“I thought I had more time with Yoongi!”
“His exact words were and I quote–“ Taehyung drops his voice into a monotone one, “I can’t stand the dad jokes anymore. Take him off my hands and somebody get me a deal on noise-cancelling headphones.”
You let out a snort and Seokjin scoffs, planting his hands on his hips, “Well, that’s just rude.”
He narrows his eyes at your laughter, “What?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.” You clear your throat, “It just takes a certain level of annoyance to get to Yoongi like that. I’m actually quite impressed.”
“Wha–“
“Uh, Mr. Soon-To- Be CEO?” Taehyung politely raises his hand, “We need to start your shadowing soon.”
“Why are you calling me that?” Seokjin questions, a light suddenly flickering in his orbs. He turns to simply glare at you, but it’s met with a smile on your end.
“Should have told me sooner.” You simply state, patting his shoulder on your way out.
The end to your workday comes faster than you can expect it.
After spending hours working through reports and analysis while on a caffeine spurt, you manage to finish all the tasks you had set out to complete this morning. You presume it’s because of the quiet atmosphere that surrounds your cubicle for the remainder of the day, something Yoongi comments on as ‘relieving’ and ‘all thanks to a certain someone leaving for the floor beneath you’.
You counteracted with a statement that it might be because of Yoongi’s love for dad jokes. It’s met with a playful glare mixed with a hint of dear dread from his end that just has you smiling.
Heading back to your apartment complex, you fish out for your keys and jam them into the slot. You had managed to run by the post office quickly only to discover a hoard of letters that you’ll need to go through.
“Yuna!” You call out, frowning when one of them has the hydro company’s signature logo on it. The door closes with a click and you shove your shoes off of your sore feet.
“Yuna!” You call out again, “Yuna, I’m home!”
The fourteen-old sticks her head from on top of the staircase, grinning at the sight of you. You greet her with a smile as she walks down the stairs.
“Hi, how was your day?” You ponder, placing the mail on a table and taking your coat off.
“It was good.” She replies, tilting her head to the side, “You’re home early.”
“Ah yeah, I finished the majority of my work today and didn’t have a shift at my other workplace for once.” Hanging your coat on the rack, your eyes spark, “Say, why don’t I make us some dinner?”
Yuna’s reaction is immediate – her shoulders shrink and recoil back as a deep frown sets on her features.
“‒or takeout!” You offer right away with a somber smile, “Takeout is always an option.”
At that, Yuna beams and nods. You chuckle at her reaction, skimming through your phone for the app. One of these days, you hope to cook a meal for the two of you that isn’t horrifying to eat.
“Geez.” You mutter underneath your breath, scrolling through the alarming prices on the glowing screen. That was another thing – eating out not only wasn’t ideal in the health sense, but it was expensive and always took a giant bite out of your wallet.
You sigh, opting to order a simple two bowls of ramen. Telling Yuna that they would be here in twenty minutes, you swing by the table and collect your mail, hoping to go through it in the meantime.
It’s like how it always is. It begins with electricity. Then hydro. Rent even pops up, and the list only continues.
However this time, you freeze.
“What?”
You rise from your seat and enter the room on your left. The paper remains in one of your hands while the other is scavenging around the table, yanking out one of the drawers until you find the calculator you always had on hand.
The numbers are punched in at a furious rate and it’s not long before the total sum is computed, illuminated in giant static writing.
Your heart feels like it’s about to leap out of your chest.
You’re short.
You’re short by a lot of numbers.
You won’t be able to pay this month’s rent.
An exasperated exhale leaves your airway and the paper is tossed on the bed in a state of grievance. You sit down right next to it, fisting a ball of your locks within your hands.
“Y/N?”
You turn your head to the doorway, noticing Yuna watching you with concerned eyes. She remains glued to the frame, as if unsure on what to say aside from calling out your name.
“Oh, uh, the food will be here soon.” You rise from the bed, “You should get some plates out in the meantime.”
Yuna stares at you for a moment with a deep furrow in her brows, but then she nods and quietly turns around.
You, in the meantime, are still shaking your head with the conclusion you’ve come to. Your lease is expected to expire soon and naturally that means you would have to sign on again, but this time around your landlord decided upon a hefty spike in rent due to the demand of your location.
Luckily, the spike has come with a written notice and some time on your part, but it spells out one sole message for you.
You need money and you need it fast.
The keyboard shakes beneath your furious typing.
Yoongi cranes his head around, in the process of returning from the lunch room with a cup of coffee in his hand. He settles down into his cubicle, but his gaze remains concentrated in your direction.
His eyes narrow once he catches sight of the website you’re currently on.
“You’re looking for a job?”
You turn around, eyes flickering as if you hadn’t even noticed his presence.
“Uh yeah, things are just a little tight right now.”
You grimace and redirect your attention back to your computer.
Yoongi stares at you intently.
“Is it wise to look for another job when you’re already working here and at that restaurant?”
You halt your typing. In a way, you know he’s right, you know that you’ve reached a point where the constant work hours can easily become too much and that you would be on the verge of practically slaving over the multiple demands.
But reality hasn’t granted you the opportunity to put your well-being first.
“I’ll manage.”
“Can you?”
Yoongi is still staring at you when you peer at him again. Trying to formulate some sort of response for the question, your attention is drawn away by a voice passing by you.
“That report needs to be on my desk by this afternoon, Minho.” Soyou states, heading into her office. Your eyes trail after her right before the door to her office.
It’s a complete gamble. Like flipping a coin.
But do you even have much to lose?
With a sigh, you rise up from your chair.
“I’ll be back.” You motion towards Yoongi, ignoring the confusion that spreads over his features. Raising your hand, a stern knock resonates against the door.
“Come in.” Soyou responds. She’s sitting at her desk, a large volume of papers scattered across the table that her eyes are drinking in.
“I wanted to discuss something with you.”
Her head lifts, “Of course.”
Once you take the seat across from her, her gaze is on you.
“Yes, Y/N?”
You resist the urge to melt into the chair. Soyou is giving you her full attention and you’re alone in her office. The cards are in place and the timing is at best, okayish.
Inhaling, you begin, “Since I’ve finished assessing the previous launch and mentoring Mr. Kim, I wanted to ask about any new opportunities I can assist with aside from the new product launch.”
Soyou seems surprised from your words, but nonetheless hums.
That’s the tactic you have to use – highlight positive work you’ve done in the past and work you’re doing currently while simultaneously asking for more work. It’s the best way to drive into the topic and to unknowingly, plant a seed.
But alas, there’s only so much in your control, “There is nothing at the moment that I’m aware of.”
You nod, “I see.”
Yet Soyou pauses for a moment, narrowing her eyes at you, “You have a Human Resources certification, correct…?”
You hum, having not only taken on an internship prior to being hired but completed additional training courses underneath the company (or more specifically, ones that were directly tied with hopeful Managerial positions).
Soyou revolves around in her wheeled chair, grabbing a quick file, “…and you’ve trained multiple employees in the past as well…”
She doesn’t seem to be even addressing you at this moment, rather lost in her own thoughts.
Your hands involuntarily tighten, irises eager and heart racing.
In the past, Soyou has typically only acknowledged your background in sales towards your job. At the time, it was just enough to secure your current job, but there was never any treading over that line post being at the workplace.
Even when you had long ensured you could meet the basic Managerial qualifications.
However, something flickers in her eyes and that’s when you notice what file she’s managed to have pulled out.
“We have a… special circumstance in our office currently.” Soyou begins, and you attempt to brace for impact, “Someone who truthfully would benefit by having more consistent hands-on experience in the office…”
She explains, “Typically we would give this role to someone in Human Resources, but seeing your qualifications and clear ability to give hands-on experience….”
You know exactly where she is going with this, already having met this certain someone. But you don’t say anything, not until–
“It would be a great asset to have on your resume and higher up positions can likely open…”
Not until she plants a seed for you too.
Accepting would be rough. Efforts would have to be put into managing someone else completely while trying to restrain that work from not interfering with your own productivity.
But when your hands are already so tied, it’s not difficult to make the final choice.
You inwardly sigh, shoving your sarcasm and remarks to the deepest depths of your voice.
The sour feeling lingers, but your smile doesn’t fade.
Summary: Being a writer is a difficult job - you have daunting deadlines to meet, new characters to develop and constantly seek out bundles of inspiration. However, this profession also demands that you go with the flow, a simple phrase that morphs into a much bigger business issue when your book sales are on the verge of disappearing. It doesn't help that you're thrown a major curve-ball, one that leaves you asking a very ominous question:
✒ How are you supposed to write about romance?
The large brown table has a mountain of colours spewed on it, ranging from hard-covered to soft-covered, light laughs to deep wails, a short stack of words with sharp statements to a long flow of words that could have imaginations whisked away. The bound pages each have different illustrations depicted, their sheer volume only seeming to be endless when another array of them starts to form right below the table. Among all this, two words are engraved with a swirl into each of them and it’s a name that never fails to raise a hearty smile.
“Y/N L/N.”
The man on the other end repeats in the midst of your thoughts, your eyes trailing along with every book he takes out of the cardboard box. His brows are furrowed whenever he leans down, brown locks falling down onto his eyes and flush lips stretched out in wonder. He glances over at you with wide eyes from where you’re seated in the corner, the forecasted dreamy look you hold immediately vanishing into bewilderment. “There’s seriously a lot of them now.”
With a smile, you nod as he places the last batch underneath the table and turns to face you, “All of them did well in the market too.” He picks up a black book with dark purple and red swirls lining the cover, clouds of smoke in the background of a woman who holds a horrific expression, “Even after you created this,” Another book meets his hands, this time with hues of pink, blue and yellow splashed on the surface, a multitude of flowers scattered on the surface, “And then this.”
A chuckle escapes you, springing up from your seat with a cherry grin.
“Well, you know what they say!” You point a cheesy finger at him, placing a powerful hand on your hip like you were some kind of superhero, “The biggest risks will always lead to the best results.”
“Or the worst results.” He pursues his lips, “But you have managed to tackle a lot of genres in your writing, I’ll say that much.”
You stroll closer, eyes dramatically wide and mouth agape, “Was that a….compliment?”
He whips around, appearing offended. “Hey! I’ve given you plenty of compliments before.”
“You said my last book was ridiculous and that I wasn’t allowed to turn the main character into a fish.”
“Because that was ridiculous! Why would you even write something like that?!”
“It’s unique! You know, the good ol’ being interesting enough to read more?” You smirk, leaning towards him with suspicious eyes, “Are you sure you’re an actual editor, Jin?”
Seokjin rolls his eyes, placing the book in his hands down with a sigh, “I’m just saying that maybe you could try writing something simple this time around. Something without all the plot twists and weird revelations.”
You narrow your eyes, not yet ready to budge until he glares at you in exasperation, “Hm, Fair enough. So what’s hot on the market?”
You eagerly eye him, aware of his tendency to keep tabs on what the current status of the highest selling books were.
“There’s been a demand for something else recently.” His voice grows wary and you raise an eyebrow, following after him as he brings over a sealed box you’ve haven’t seen before. He slices through the tape and begins taking out the paper packaging, revealing a new set of books that don’t carry your signature.
“What is this?” You probe, picking one up that has an intricate image of a boy and a girl with glittering golden and silver eyes. “A werewolf story?”
Jin hums, “There’s other ones too.”
The books go flying from the box as you toss them out, taking one quick glance before allowing it to meet the pile you’re forming on the table. There’s covers depicting snow with a vampire, an image of a stethoscope, another of a basketball court, and heck, even one with the premise of two people switching bodies. You stare at Jin perplexed, not grasping onto how these random titles were going to be helpful to you.
He leans back, resting himself on the perch of the table. He smiles like he knows something you don’t ‒ a gesture that has you nearly pestering him for an answer until he finally speaks.
“How do you feel about romance?”
“The genre?” He nods, “I don’t know, I guess it’s nice? It’s cute and all, and that-”
He continues to smile and there’s something about it that’s unintentionally connected to the dots for you.
You’ve made up your mind already, “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s romance!” You raise up your hands in exasperation, but Jin just stares at you, not understanding the big deal, “You know, people gushing and giggling over each other for an entire book. Who wants to read something like that??”
“This is coming from someone that wrote about a guy turning into a fish.”
“It was unique!” You chime in again, but Jin simply sighs and slides over the books you had previously yanked out.
“It’s not what the market wants though, Y/N. All of these books went on to become popular just for being in the genre.” He attempts to reason, placing his hands on your shoulders, “I still think you should give it a shot.”
Your lips set into a firm line, gaze drifting over to the atrocious covers that Jin’s lined up on the table.
You suppose it wouldn’t be so bad. After all, you’ve been through writing spurts, endlessly crafting out fantasy words in efforts of making it through the deadlines you’re faced with. You’ve faced the mixture of stress and adrenaline, desperately pushing yourself to keep going even if your tank of fuel is failing on you. You’ve spent the long hours of digging your nose into hours of research, familiarising yourself with something out of your comfort zone just for the sake of making your writing better.
But...romance?
A genre you’ve skimmed over in hopes of creating something else, a genre that you’ve barely given a second glance because…...well…
You research things. You try to improve things. And the best way to improve, is totry…...
Even though you have no clue what you’re getting yourself into.
“I don’t know…” You quietly mumble, fiddling with the bottom of your sweater. “What if it sucks?”
“You’ll never know unless you try.” Jin offers, but it doesn’t take away the unsettling feeling in your stomach from just thinking about it. He simply stares as you grow silent, letting out a sigh.
Reaching over to grab a familiar coat, he tosses it over your head. You immediately react, flabbergasted by the sudden flying article of clothing.
“What was that for?!”
“Come on.” He slides his arms through a brown one with a knowing smile, “You work based on inspiration,” He glances around the dusty office, nearly packed with opened cardboard boxes and books, “and I don’t think you’ll get much from here.”
You grin, slipping on the rough material instantly.
***
The streets are bustling, packed with crowds of people huddled together. They’re surrounded by cream coloured skyscrapers from a far distance, rows of bare oak trees lining the roads. The scent of fresh winter lingers in the air, newly arrived after the scattering of orange and red leaves on the ground.
You fist your hands up, a cheer erupting from your throat. A hand suddenly pushes through, covering your mouth.
“Why are you screaming?” Jin asks in exasperation, staring at you in disbelief when you still continue despite his attempts at halting you.
You pry his hand off, “I haven’t been outside in so long!!” You instantly run off, bumping into some civilians with no care and then giving them a cheeky wink when they glare at you. Jin rushes forward, grabbing onto you again.
He sighs, stuffing his icy hands into his coat pockets, “Y/N, you’re supposed to be a writer, not a hermit.”
“You can’t have both, Jin.” You remind him, “Plus I’ve spent hours working on my deadlines so I’m in need for some fu-Ooh! Look!”
He whirls around to see you dashing over a pile of leaves in the corner, diving headfirst into them before he can stop you. Giggles escape you as Jin can’t help but smile a bit at the display too. However, that’s when he remembers why he even offered to bring you out inside, leaning over to grasp onto your arm.
“Alright, come on Miss. Tree Lover.” He helps you up, quirking an eyebrow at the leaves currently trapped and poking out of your hair. You instantly brush them out, following him around.
“Well?” He says with hopeful eyes as you take in the busy area.
“Well what?”
“Really?” He ponders, leaning closer, “No crazy amounts of inspiration yet?”
“That’s not how it works!” You chide, “It takes more than that, you know? I gotta have a type of feeling.”
“A type of feeling?”
You roll your eyes at his obvious sarcasm, “Yeah, like I see something and the urge to write just‒”
Your eyes spark up at a particular store and before you know it, you’re yanking Jin to come along with you.
“What is it??”
“Look!” You point over to the shop burgeoning with hard bound books. Planting your hands against the window, the glass fogs with the warmth you radiate as you peer inside, seeing countless of titles you recognize.
“Aren’t those…?” Jin whispers from behind you, a huge dreamy smile crossing your lips.
“Yeah.” You glance at the familiar works in front of you, eyes carefully watching people that walk across the selves. A particular group huddled in the corner catches your attention right away, one of them flicking through pages you’ve probably dispensed part of your soul into.
She pauses at one page, eyes starting to focus in and appearing intrigued. Her lips have thinned out, lost in thought even with the group near her talking amongst themselves.
You know that look.
The excitement in your eyes instantly shifts into tenderness, simply content with watching someone hold curiosity in them from your words.
But the perfect mirage cracks.
“Hey guys, check this one out!”
The girl immediately spins around, shuffling over to view the alluring title her friend has pulled out. However, in the midst of this, the familiar hard bound pages are instantly discarded, plopped back onto the shelf without another single glance.
Your smile falls, eyes tingeing with dismay. You can only watch from afar as she swipes through new material, her attention grasped unlike before.
Sight lingering down, you recognize the type of literature she holds. It only contributes more to your sorrow, left hopelessly gazing at the genre you’ve strayed extremely far from.
Jin is silent from behind you, noticing that your immediate cheerfulness has disappeared within seconds. He’s still silent when you turn to him in disappointment, muttering the words he’s been trying to drill in your head since this morning.
“I think….I’ll give it a shot.”
He hums, gesturing for you to leave. “Just try your best, and don’t force yourself.”
You nod, following after him once you’ve managed to tear your vision away from the scene. Although you’ve come down to the resolve he’s wanted, it doesn’t help at all to take away the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach.
***
You already have a concept in your hands. Now all you gotta do is write it.
How hard can it be?
Within the span of ten minutes, soft thugs begin to resonate through the room. You lull you head over and over again against the surface of your table, deep exhausted sighs leaving your body.
Did you really say how hard can it be? Did the you of ten minutes ago actually think this was easy?!
Sinking back into your chair, you stare at the blank document with empty eyes. It hasn’t moved an inch in that time frame and neither have you.
Romance ‒ that’s it. Just write a story about two people falling for each other and seal the deal with a pretty looking bow.
But then why are you still stuck staring at the screen?
A groan of defeat leaves your lips and you slump against your desk. A brown-haired individual pokes by your door, raising an eyebrow.
“All good?” Jin asks. You barely move your head, an indecipherable murmur releasing from your throat.
“I see…” He hums at the answer, straightening up and leaning against the frame, “If you’re that stuck, why don’t you do some research about it? You usually like that, right?”
At the sound of the suggestion, your head immediately whips back with a hopeful glint in your eyes. Jin conceals his laughter as you start rapidly typing on your keyboard, taking that as an indication to leave you be as he goes back to editing your recent stories.
Meanwhile, you’re having the time of your life.
Of course! Research! The saving grace in a writer’s world!
You’ve done it countless times before. Whether it was about being knowledgeable in understanding the mechanics of worldbuilding, to figure out the basic meanings of things you’ve previously had no clue about.
However, the aspect you’re not accustomed to is your screen filling up with random articles.
“How to tell if you’ve met your lifetime soulmate?” You narrow your eyes, “Ten ways of getting your crush to like you back…?”
You scroll through, coming across more strange suggestions that give you zero insight for your current situation. Frowning, you wonder if you’re not searching hard enough ‒ until your eyes are left staring at the small advertisement in the corner of the screen.
“Check out the latest kdrama’s here….?” Hovering your mouse over the link, a broad spectrum of shows flood your eyes instantly. There’s a range of story types and titles, but what catches your interest the most is the tagline.
In need for some romance? Heal the woes of your lonely heart here then!
You lean back, staring at the shows. You suppose it won’t hurt to check one of them out, after all, it could give you the details you’ve been searching for.
Making up your mind, you commit the mistake of watching the first episode of a series.
***
Jin rubs his sore eyes, letting out a low yawn. He’s been unpacking more and more boxes from the publisher, carefully organizing them based on genre for the past couple of hours. After that horrendous task, he has decided to go through the latest story you’ve handed over to him, vision glued to his monitor as he highlights and circles places of improvement.
He doesn’t want to take the harsh approach, but it goes without saying that your writing has been a little lacking these days. Usually he lets you do your thing and he does his own as long as you meet the deadlines, but he wonders if you’ve sacrificed the caliber in your writing in exchange.
It isn’t terrible as you would probably take it. It still follows the unique concept trend you’ve focused on for so long. However, there seems to be something missing, something he can’t quite pinpoint even after going through pages and pages.
With a sigh, he squeezes his heavy eyes shut for a moment before narrowing in onto the screen again. But his thought process is snatched away with a loud thud, and he instantly raises his head, wondering if a book has perhaps fallen down.
Surprisingly, nothing’s fallen.
Glancing around, he can only ponder until a boisterous laugh echoes through the walls, closely followed with prolonged wails. He slowly rises from his seat, following the intense sound as the frequency increases.
He comes to a pause in front of your door, knocking softly. “Y/N?”
Instead of words, he greeted to a chain of sobs. Twisting the knob to your office, he pokes his head in.
“Y/N? Are you ok‒”
To his defence, your office looks exactly how he has initially left it. But now it’s completely dark save for the subdued corner in the room, where you lie wrapped around with a blanket. Your eyes are glued to the bright source of light in the room, namely your computer screen, and there’s a bag of popcorn alongside a box of tissues right next to you. Aside from the strange position, your cheeks are completely drenched and there’s a hysterical look to your eyes.
He doesn’t know what to say.
“Uh….”
The sound of his voice catches your attention, eyes widening, “Jin! Oh my god, Jin, it's so sad!”
“What’s sad?”
“This kdrama!” You point to your screen, “It’s so sad! First they were friends, and then they started liking each other, but then they kissed and everything went downhill after this second guy came in!”
Jin crouches down, barely able to make out what's on screen due to the excessive water sticking to it.
“You’re watching a drama?”
You hurriedly nod, “Now the girl is starting to fall for the second guy because of a misunderstanding! How are they going to fix all this?!”
“Y/N…” Jin says in exasperation, “Is this what you’ve been doing for the past couple of hours?”
You pout, hiding the device that clearly displays episode seven.
“N-No........”
Jin pretends not to see it, “Y/N, your next deadline is within two weeks. You really need to start working on this.”
He grabs hold of your arm, pulling you out of the kdrama cocoon you’ve built around yourself. You let out a deep sigh, pressing your hand against your temples.
“You’re right...I need to stop wasting time…” You whisper and Jin hums, swiveling around.
“I have to get back to editing but I’ll come back in an hour once I’m done.” You nod as he turns to leave, slumping back down on your desk with a tired exhale.
He was right. The moment you clicked onto that link, the hours spun by faster than you could count them and you’ve got nothing done at this point.
Prying open your laptop again, you resume back to the blank document.
***
Jin has assumed his words have knocked some sense into you as he makes his way back to your office.
What he doesn’t assume, is to see you sitting on the ledge of the broad window with a book in your hands.
“You’re reading…?” He wonders. Normally he wouldn’t even question it, but his eyes drift over to the blank document once again and something tells him there’s more to the story than he initially thought.
You look up surprised, as if you hadn’t expected his arrival. His eyes stray over to the title of the book in your hands, a groan leaving him.
“Oh god, not this again Y/N!”
“It’s to help me understand!” You try to reason, but Jin is short of a few words when you’re reading a bulky thick book called ‘The Philosophy Behind Romance’.
“How is this supposed to help you?” He points to the book and you defensively curl your arms around it.
“Hear me out for a minute!” You quickly place it in your hands and rapidly flip through the pages. “Romantic love is considered to be a relation higher than the metaphysical and stems from a desire that transcends the physical body.”
Jin frowns, “What does that even mean?”
“I have no idea. But!” You hastily intervene as Jin looks like he’s about to protest, “I think it can help me with creating the story.”
“I don’t think any of this is going to work.”
“What?” He walks over, taking the book out of your hands and straight up discarding it into your trash can. “HEY!”
“You’re starting to run out of fuel.” He states, noticing the way your expression sours. You know he’s right, but won’t admit it. “You need to get away from all this.”
He gestures to the book and the blank document you still have pulled up, reminding you of the ill circumstance you had yet to do something about.
A dreary sigh leaves your lips, brows knitted together, “I’m trying Jin, I really am.” You gesture to the same empty document, “It’s just so hard. I-....I don’t know what to do.”
Jin places a hand on your shoulder, nodding, “You’re out of your comfort zone and you’re having writer’s block. It’s understandable, but I don’t think research is what's going to help you this time.”
You pout at that, but then Jin swivels around and hands your coat to you.
“Why don’t you try going out for a walk? Clear out your mind and come back with some fresh inspiration?”
“That doesn’t sound too bad…” You reminisce. Tugging your arms through the sleeves, Jin smiles and opens the door for you, ushering you towards the stairs that descend down. You wave at him before disappearing, hoping to yourself that you can get something out of this to clear away the clouds brewing over your creative mind.
***
Glittering stars fill up the night sky, a bright crescent moon twinkling and illuminating the empty roads. Save for the sound of awake crickets and the faint honking of cars nearby, the sidewalk you trudge on is completely silent.
It offers a different scenery compared to your cramped office room, something you didn’t realize you would appreciate as much until it dawns on you that you’ve probably spent several hours in the midst of trying to figure out your story instead of actually writing it. After all, you have been posed with a solid issue and as time spins by, you begin to think that it’s more than doing some mere research could possibly resolve.
Tugging the hem of your coat closer to your red nose, your eyes glance around. You attempt to take some of Jin’s advice to heart, pondering if anything nearby can perhaps spark a flame of inspiration that you’ve been desperately lacking.
That’s when you see it.
Your brows furrow and you have to blink your eyes twice for it to make sense. Sheer curiosity traps you as you saunter over, tilting your head to the side and then to the opposite direction until you blink once more.
Strokes of black and blue envelope the delicate white background that peeks through, specks of gray and white blotted carefully where the lines meet. There’s a peculiar circular shape portrayed in the middle of it, messily splattered with a hue of dull yellow. It looks like something you’ve come across before, something that felt familiar, something that‒
Your eyes look up, the same image appearing right above you.
A frown mars your lips and when your vision focuses back on the piece, a head full of blonde hair sticks out from behind it.
You’re almost ready to unleash a scream, not quite expecting movement from the presumed stationary canvas. You hear a soft sound, seemingly sounding like a low mumble, before silence takes over again. Raising an eyebrow, you take a step forward.
It occurs to you that the canvas you had noticed was actually perched up against a wooden bench, and on that bench, is a person that’s sleeping.
You hesitantly peer at them, noticing that the stranger was in fact a man. He appears to be in the middle of a snooze fest, chest lightly rising in the midst of soft snores escaping him. His face is entirely covered with a black beret, strands of blonde hair peeking out.
There’s a list of questions in your mind, starting from why he was randomly lying down on the bench in the middle of the night to the painting that’s positioned next to his head. While the absurd scenarios explaining his situation run through your mind, his arm moves and you experience your second heart attack for the day.
The beret falls down onto his lap as he stretches his arms, a deep yawn passes by his lips. You remain frozen as he does so, having moved a couple inches away once it dawned on you how odd it would probably be if he found out you were staring.
He sleepily blinks his eyes, narrowing them at you. You’re about to explain yourself, but he instead asks you a question.
“What time is it?”
“Uh…” You scramble around for your phone, the screen lighting up, “11:34pm.”
He hums, getting up and dusting off his jeans. Grabbing the fallen beret, he pushes the strands of his blonde hair back into the hat, revealing strong eyebrows underneath. He pulls out an old camera, hanging it around his neck and letting it drop down onto the brown coat he wears.
His feline-like eyes glance at you in wonder, drastically different from his sleeping appearance on the bench. You let out an awkward cough, a light hue of pink spreading over your skin.
After a moment of silence, he speaks up.
“Do you like my painting?” You raise your brows and blink.
“Your painting?” He nods, a soft proud smile looping on his lips. You peer at the artwork in curiosity again. “You made this?”
He hums, observing it with you, “I waited for hours to paint it.”
He points to the sky and the image finally begins to piece together for you. The black and blue embodying the sky, the shimmering stars scattered all over and the radiant moon, painted so brightly in the centre of all of it.
“You waited out here to paint the sky?”
A drawn out sigh escapes him, “Yep. I’m kind of stuck in a rut, you see.” He gestures to the painting again with a somber look in his eyes, “I wanted to paint something different, but I didn’t have any ideas, so I came out here instead to get the experience.”
“Experience?”
He hums, “It’s a lot easier to experience the moment than having to imagine it in your head.”
“R-Right…” You whisper, still staring at his painting like you were stuck in the middle of a daze. You’re alarmed when he suddenly bends down and picks up the canvas with one arm, pivoting around to face you.
“I have to get going now. Spent too much time painting that I didn’t get enough sleep.” He warmly smiles at you, outstretching his hand, “It was nice meeting you.”
You take it confused and he gives you a small nod before leaving. You watch his back disappear, gaze averting to the large canvas tucked underneath his arm.
Spinning around to head back, you dwell on his words more than you would like.
Maybe this whole time your writer’s block was stemming from something else, something you truly didn’t realize was important until now.
Experience.
But how do you experience something that’s supposed to be completely natural? Something you’re utterly clueless about?
Letting out an exhale, it seems like there’s only one person who can give you clear answers.
***
You start off the next morning at a place you would never consider yourself to express interest in.
The art museum.
You recall hearing whispers and murmurs of a new art showcase going on, your curiosity only seeming to drag you there. The sudden spike in motivation causes Jin to question about your early departure, to which you retort that you’re drawing closer to grasping a solid idea for your story.
Heading in, the gallery is completely adorned in pieces of art. There’s various types ‒ paintings, sculptures, graphic design ‒ you name it. You don’t realize you’re standing in awe until a couple behind you urges you to keep moving, an action that strains a sheepish smile across your lips as you hurriedly scurry away.
You constantly glance around, observing each work you come across. One painting captures your attention, hues of pastel pink and mint green mixed together on the overlay of a figure carrying a smaller figure in their hands. Your lips set into a firm line as you draw closer, eyes tracing the outline.
“You won’t understand it better if you keep staring at it like that.”
You whirl around at the sound of the voice, not quite expecting to run right into the person you were searching for. The man smirks, wearing the same brown coat you saw him in last time.
“How would you interpret it then?”
He takes a step closer, narrowing his eyes in a way you did and you scoff at his mimicry.
“I think it’s a painting of a mother and a child. She’s embracing her child and rocking them to sleep.” He points to the outline, “The colors are supposed to represent a sense of joy and relief with having her child in her arms.”
You blink, managing to piece together everything he said perfectly. The figures do appear like a mother and child, and the colors only emphasize the warmth the outline portrays.
“Woah.” You whisper, probably having not realized all that unless someone told you, “How did you figure that out?”
He smiles, “I’m the one who painted it.”
“Oh.” A chuckle escapes him at your embarrassment and you sheepishly smile. Your eyes are drawn to the painting again, but this time you narrow down on the faint signature at the bottom.
“V?” You raise an eyebrow, “Is that your name?”
He softly shakes his head, “That’s just what I use for my art. My actual name is Kim Taehyung.”
You hum and he leans forward, eyes curious.
You automatically shift away, averting your eyes from his strong gaze. “What?”
“This is the part where you introduce yourself.”
“Oh, right.” You outstretch your hand, “Y/N L/N.”
“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He shakes your hand and swivels around, tilting his head as a means for you to follow him, “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
You nod, hurriedly rushing behind him as he points out several pieces and their artists. You take occasional glances around at other pieces of artwork as well, one with a solemn blue background depicting a mountain catching your eyes instantly.
“That’s really pretty.” You point out, and Taehyung endearingly laughs, glancing at you peculiarly.
“I wonder if I should be flattered that you seem to like all my work.”
“Y-You painted that one too?”
“Yep, this gallery is pretty new so a lot of my work is in here.” He slightly turns his head, enough to see you behind him, “What about you? Got a real keen eye for art?”
“Not really…” You truthfully admit, “I just happened to be walking by and thought I check it out.”
He raises an eyebrow, “Are you sure about that?”
“What do you mean?”
He suddenly pauses, causing you to stop on your heels before you plummet right into him, “Are you sure you’re not stalking me since yesterday?”
Your eyes enlarge, “What?! No, of course not! I just came in here because I heard about the recent showcase and thought...uh...” A deep sigh leaves you from your horrible inability to lie properly, “Thought I might run into you…”
Taehyung pursues his lips, “Now that’s something I’m not sure if I should be creeped out or flattered by.”
“Please don’t be creeped out!” You raise up your hands in defence, opting to tell him the truth, “I’m just stuck in the middle of writing a book and then I saw you yesterday…you were talking about how experiencing something helps you with your art…”
His voice spikes up in awe, “You’re a writer?”
You nod, “Ah, so different cameras but similar lenses…”
“Huh?”
“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” He fully turns to face you, a huge grin on his lips, “I don’t know if I’ll be of much use, but I can help you out if you’d like.”
“Really?” Your eyes spark up, “Thank you so much, I-I can’t believe you would want to help me out…”
“You’ve seen me being stuck in a rut.” He smiles, “I know the feeling.”
You warmly return his smile, tempted to ask him more about his experiences in painting when a woman with a clipboard suddenly approaches the two of you.
She intervenes, “Mr. Kim, the gallery would like to confirm your next showcase.”
His eyes widen, “Ah, yes-” You watch as he shoves his hand into his coat pocket, hurriedly fishing around.
He yanks out a small card, handing it to you, “It has all my contact information on it, shoot me a message whenever you have the chance.”
You quickly take the card before he’s dragged away, sending him a nod in response. He grins, waving you farewell before turning and weaving through the crowds of people viewing the showcase.
Gyrating around, you think it’s best you head back as well, knowing that Jin will be suspicious of the length of your disappearance. As you exit the museum, you glance down, reading the contents of the card.
The background is an array of colours ‒ ranging from blues, greens, reds and even yellows that are splattered in a way that seems to form a tornado. His art name and phone number are in the corner, eerily reminiscent of the way he paints his pieces ‒ drawing you in with the outlays and colours before declaring himself.
The corner of your mouth quirks up.
***
You set out the next morning, the sun beginning to shine brighter as you head closer to your destination.
You find him by the river, an old camera hanging from his neck ‒ just like the first time you had found him by the bench.
A grin makes its way to his lips, his hand waving for you when you begin to draw closer.
“Have difficulty finding it?” He gestures to the river behind you.
You shake your head, keeping a pondering finger to your lips, “Not really, I’ve been here before. I usually go over there to see the book shops.”
You point over to the area you had last visited with Jin, reminiscing about finding your own books there.
Taehyung raises an eyebrow, “You’re a fan of reading other’s books?”
“Of course!” You nervously chuckle, “It’s always great to see what other writers do with their books as well!”
Taehyung stares at you for a moment, his gaze unwavering.
“You went to go see your own books?”
You sigh, squeezing your eyes, “I went to go see my own books.”
Taehyung lets out a low chuckle and you look down, biting your bottom lip.
“I’ll admit, it is a little odd‒”
“Not at all.” He shakes his head, “You found me at my own showcase, didn’t you?”
You blink, “Right…”
He shrugs, “It’s a thing for everyone who creates. You want to see how the public reacts to your art.”
You hum, a tad bit surprised by his straightforwardness. It’s an aspect that no creator would take into consideration first hand, but it’s an integral part of being one.
The public always warrants how art is received, after all.
Taehyung lifts his camera, adjusting his lenses before snapping a picture of the bookstore. You watch in confusion as he examines the picture.
“I’m surprised you like taking photos.” You innocently inquire, “Does it help you paint?”
Taehyung glances at you.
“You know the feeling of trying to stop time?”
Your brows knit together and he softly smiles, “When you take a picture, you capture a moment and stop time for a second. It isn't long, but it’s enough for a photograph.”
You watch as he slips his hand into his coat pocket, showcasing a small array of photographs. Images of the sun setting with mixes of bold orange and solemn blue are shown to you, another with a stream of ducks making ripples within the water. There’s ones of buildings and people too, but all of them are taken in angles that are captivating shots of laughter and shots of despair that could have easily been missed if the photograph had a lapse of time.
It almost reminds you of when you’re attempting to capture a particular scene in your mind as your fingertips glide on your keyboard, drawing in an atmosphere that has the reader’s senses all working.
The corner of Taehyung’s mouth curls, observing the gears in your head turning.
It only takes you a handful of seconds to notice, a bashful smile lining your lips.
“Writing is like that too, not exactly similar⎯” You retract immediately, “But trying to draw in the five senses around you and bringing it out into literature…”
You glance up at Taehyung, curious to see if you were making any sense at this point. He’s no longer facing you at this point. Instead his body is facing the river, eyes fluttering shut.
There’s a spark in your own, and you hurriedly continue.
“Like this river isn’t just the scene,” You point out, “it’s the sun shining down and reflecting on the surface near the moss. It’s the birds crossing alongside the path and the voices of people nearby echoing. It’s the faint breeze in the air and the smell of greenery.”
“It’s peaceful,” Taehyung hums in content, “and calming.”
A soft smile crosses your features, “That’s what writing is like for me, taking inspiration from the real world and capturing it all into words.”
His eyes open and you notice the knowing gaze he holds, as if everything that you’ve tried to explain is second nature to him.
“So what has you stuck?” He inquires.
A deep sigh escapes you, the acknowledgement occurring that he was actually here to help with your current predicament.
“A new genre.” You admit with a grimace, “I’ve written plenty of different ones before, but there were always ones I understood well and I had no problem with creating stories from them.”
You continue, “And even if it was hard, I’ve always been able to figure it out somehow, you know? If I didn’t know about something, I would research it. If I was confused, I look it up-”
You decide to stop yourself, knowing that those outlets hadn’t been much help at this point. “I’m just…really out of my element, and the worst part is that it’s exactly what the market wants right now.”
You cross your arms, a small pout landing on your lips. It’s not like that you haven’t been vocal about your frustrations, but more so that you’re just slumped, unable to conjure anything up onto that document with the slightest clue of where to even begin.
Taehyung ‒ who had been quietly observing you the entire time ‒ puts his camera down and places his finger on his chin.
“Sometimes when I struggle to paint something new, I procrastinate.” You arch up a brow, “Like bad procrastinate. My canvas starts to collect dust.”
A chuckle escapes you and he smiles, “But then I try to think why I’m procrastinating. Do I just not feel like painting? Or is it because of something else…?”
He stares at you intently, like he’s waiting for you to finish his sentence.
You ponder, “I guess…I’m scared in a way? Of not knowing what I’m doing.”
He hums, “When that happens, I like taking out my camera. Going around and taking pictures not only gives me experience, but also lets me experience my surroundings better.” He glances around until his eyes land on you, “Sometimes I can find inspiration. Sometimes I can find interesting individuals.”
Your eyes round and he turns, angling himself back a bit and taking a snapshot of the river. You peer over his shoulder and he moves closer to you so you can view the picture better.
It’s pretty ‒ he was able to get the forecast of the sun over the bank of the river perfectly, alongside the little daisies growing alongside the shore.
“Nice?” He wonders and you nod, face brightening, “Good. Now just don’t ask me to paint it, that’ll be scary for me.”
You laugh and he turns to walk down the bank of the river with a smile.
***
The next time you get an opportunity to meet Taehyung, there’s a whirlwind in the sky.
It’s been a couple of weeks since your first encounter with him at the art gallery, but regrets are thrown all over the place the moment the wind blasts through your hair. The chills run down your spine, pickling at your skin as you squeeze your eyes shut.
Jin tells you not to go, or at most, to re-schedule. But a part of you is incredibly stubborn, frustration running through you when you know you’ll just end up in the same place ‒ staring at that blank document for endless hours.
As you hug your body as much as you can, you strut down the bustling street and glance back and forth.
Taehyung thankfully appears within a couple of seconds, his silhouette emerging from across the street.
Your eyes round.
He wears the same brown coat he always wears, but this time there’s no beret on his head. Instead his blonde locks are pushed back by the wind, his strong brows furrowed and eyes closed as he tries to navigate himself against the vicious breeze.
You’re not sure if it's the cold nipping at your cheeks or the shiver running through you, but the way your cheeks burn is enough to notice.
He glances up, eyes locking with yours. A wide smile stretches up on his lips that nearly makes you falter.
“Y/N.”
His deep voice calls your name, concern crossing his features.
“Have you been waiting long?”
You shake your head, “I-I just got here.”
“That’s good.” He hums, glancing around. “Not exactly my ideal weather, if I do say.”
You laugh, “I’m surprised my ears haven’t managed to fall off yet.”
The corner of his mouth lifts and before you know it, he’s extending his arm forward. You glance at him surprised, but he nudges you and then gestures in the opposite direction.
“Come on.”
You slip your hand in, linking your arms together. Taehyung begins to walk forward, navigating you around the busy marketplace. Surveying around, there’s various stores lined up across the edge of the street, vendors alike having many displays for you to view.
There wasn’t anything in particular for you to buy, but Taehyung had suggested that it would be good for you to come out with him and explore the new area. It makes you wonder if he wanted you to get more experience going out since after all, you spent more of your time writing and being bit of a hermit.
You peer over at him, noticing his eyes occasionally flickering and observing all the stalls he went past. It was one thing you had learned about Taehyung quickly, that it didn’t matter where he was or what he was doing, he always had this way of taking in his surroundings carefully, like he was studying every aspect.
That’s when you hear a soft gasp escape him, his hand finding yours as he rushes forward. His feet then come to an abrupt halt and you nearly trip between your own two feet.
Regaining your balance, you peer over his shoulder and notice his eyes are sparkling. Before you have a chance to question any of it, your hand is being tugged again, the bell to the store’s door ringing above you.
Your most straightforward assumption at this point was that the store must have had something to do with painting, but you’re pleasantly surprised to find yourself surrounded with pieces of clay, all decorated with bold and bright colours on various shelves.
Ceramic Art.
You distinctly recall reading about it in a book once, but had never gotten the opportunity to see it up front and close.
A piece captures your eyes immediately, your brows drawing together.
“That’s a unique one.” Taehyung remarks, stepping to stand beside you.
Quirking an eyebrow, the question lingers in your mind.
“I didn’t know you did ceramic art as well.”
Taehyung chuckles, “I actually don’t.” He puts his hands within the pockets of his coat, “It isn’t my area of expertise, but I like seeing different forms of art. Ironically, I find the way of expressing it to be the exact same.”
You blink as Taehyung steps away, taking strides towards other surrounding pieces of art and inspecting them. You’re left staring as he gazes at a pot that’s been shaped similar to a moon, swirls of dark blue and yellow specks decorating the smooth ceramic.
You can’t help the smile that stretches across your lips.
“It looks just like something you would have painted.”
Taehyung frowns, before the corners of his mouth quirk up. “I didn’t even notice, I just thought it looked beautiful.”
“You definitely have a good eye for art.”
“It would appear so.” He lightly laughs, turning around to view more of the art.
A part of you curiously lingers, walking up to him.
You peer over, “Does this mean you see my writing as art too?”
“Of course.” His head snaps back, “Art’s all about expression, doesn’t matter what medium you choose.”
Your face lights up.
“However,” He brings up and your eyes widen, “Every artist is never the same. People always have different stories to tell and that’s completely okay. That’s what makes them all unique.”
A glimmer enters your eyes. After the endless frustrations with your recent book, his words do send you a sense of reassurance. It can sometimes be difficult to have someone else understand why you do things the way you do ‒ even you and Jin have had your fair share of arguments over various disagreements ‒ but it all pinpointed to seeing everything in a different perspective.
You grin, “I can understand that.”
His eyes soften, “I think it also means that some genres can be harder than others, but everyone can bring their unique take on them.”
Brows lifting, your gaze fixates on him. But he spins around, gesturing for you to come over and to observe more art with him.
You walk over with no hesitation.
***
The following time you find Taehyung, fall is still letting her leaves shed and he invites you over to his studio.
A part of you is beaming with excitement ‒ having only ever seen his artistic ways when he was attempting to paint the stars and you had coincidentally stumbled across him that night. But a part of you can’t shake away the jitters, jitters that you don’t want to spend time trying to understand, deciding to just push it all away as you set out for the day.
The wind is gustful, snipping at your nose and cheeks. Hues of warm orange and bright yellow litter the ground and top the trees, the sun hiding behind grey clouds that ever so let droplets of water release.
It’s scenery that grasps you within its clutches, glimmering your eyes with awe and leaving your mouth agape.
And it’s the same scenery that he seeks to capture.
You have the simple pleasure of watching as he draws lines of jade for the trees and splatters on specks of orange and yellow. He scrambles to paint the few individuals that walk past his vision, capturing their essence into carefully placed frames.
His art style lingers between mimicking the surroundings but somehow elevating it as well, drawing in the observer with his interesting use of colour and texture.
You can only seem to watch, lost in it as well.
Time flies from you as he adds the final touches to his piece and you finally notice the way his hands are completely stained, some paint having even made its way to his nose. His brushes have seen the light of day, piled next to him in a canister.
And in the midst of it, he looks upon his painting and grins. He turns to you for the first time since you’ve arrived, breaking the complete silence as he laughs with his deep tone.
“Well, that was a lot of fun.”
You can’t help but burst into laughter as well, completely astounded by the difference in his demeanour. Astounded how easily you saw both a painter in his element and a man in his twenties observing his surroundings within the same split second.
You end up helping him clean each of his used brushes, watching him walk down the street with you as paint still remains on his face and hands.
***
“Someone seems to be doing well for themselves.”
The retort breaks you out of your thoughts, your eyes snapping up.
“Huh?” There’s a book encased within your hands, one of the few titles you had referenced in writing your mystery story.
Jin laughs under his breath. He hasn’t been able to see much of you for a while, only just knowing that you had met a painter by the name of Taehyung and he was all you would talk about these days.
He tucks away a book in his own hands, “You were smiling so much that I assumed everything has been working out. Has Taehyung’s advice been that helpful?”
Your eyes twinkle, spinning around on your heels.
“It has been! He’s so much fun to talk to, and he’s got great insight, Jin.” Your smile widens, “Who knew seeing eye to eye with a painter would be so easy?”
Jin grins, “It’s definitely got you in high spirits, I can tell you that.”
“I need to introduce you to him, Jin. I think you’ll get along great!” You chirp, reaching down to open another box.
“Woah, woah,” Jin draws closer, halting you, “I’ll take care of that, you’ve got some writing to do, remember?”
A giant pout arises on your lips, “But I said I was going to help you.”
“And you will, by writing for your new book.” He points out, “Spending time with Taehyung should have sparked something, no?”
You hum defeatedly, knowing he had a point. You had spent so much of your time with him, it was only hopeful that his words would have incited some creativity to strike you.
Letting out a big sigh, you drag yourself back to your desk and open up your computer, the blank document is showcased once again to your eyes.
***
You want to pound your head against the table.
The good news is that your document is no longer left blank. There’s rough jot notes littered on it, some random junctions from the brainstorming you were doing on ideas for the story. You’re trying to indulge your unique perspective onto the story, concepts for certain scenes stemming from a cool night out in the stars, a riverside and a busy marketplace.
But it isn’t enough.
The bad news is that you, out of all people, know that ideas are just a base. You need to build up a coherent story from it, create characters, create dynamics. And you have none of those at this moment.
It’s like all the surface level information is just complete, not the heart of your story.
You contemplate on how to begin, eyes sweeping over the jot notes listed on your document countless times. You start pulling at anything in your mind, anything that could be linked to writing romance.
A deep exhale leaves your lips, shoulders slumping down. Your hand reaches out for your mouse, closing the document tab before going to the search bar, the urge to delve in and research the topic tempting you.
You know you had tried to take a different approach with this, tried not to linger too much on the various articles, but despite the unique types of experiences you’ve had in the last couple of weeks, there still isn’t an answer to the question in your mind.
How do people even start to fall in love?
You’re in the midst of searching the question, eyes already filtering through various articles ‒ when suddenly there's a flicker in your dim eyes.
Halting your racing fingertips against the keyboard, the mouse in your hands is abandoned.
You shoot up from your desk, yanking the door wide open and running outside.
***
Jin hums a soft tone in the serene silence, opening up a box to unload the books onto the table. He’s been set on organising the newer ones that had just come in, attempting to distract himself before he checks in on you and your progress with your writing.
The door comes bursting open.
The book slips through his fingers and a blood-curdling scream escapes his throat. He spins around, brows furrowed together.
You stand in a starfish stance at the door, eyes wild and breathing heavy.
“What happened?!” Jin questions, holding a frantic hand against his racing heart.
“You‒” You raise a shaking finger at him, still gasping for air. Jin wonders why you even decided to run so fast when he’s literally a couple of doors away. “You have a girlfriend.”
He blinks, sheer unamusement crossing his features, “Seriously? That shouldn’t be news to you!”
“I know!” You raise your hands in defence, “But I have some questions I want to ask you.”
He cranes his head to the side, “You’re going to interview me?”
“Kind of.” Jin doesn’t have time to react when you’re already reaching out for a chair, dragging it closer to him.
He sits down opposite to you with a groan, “At least tell me this is for the book.”
“Hold on.” You settle down, scrutinising him, “Do you love your girlfriend?”
A scoff escapes him, “Of course I do!”
“Good, now how did you fall in love?”
Jin blinks, surprised by the genuine question. You seem interested as well, eyeing him intently.
“We met back in college.” He softly smiles, his complexion tinting pink, “She was close to someone in my friend circle and I thought she was really cute.”
“Was it love at first sight?”
“Sort of.” Jin tilts his head, “She was kind, but I wanted to get to know her before anything so we became friends first.” He explains, “Eventually, I realised I liked her a lot and asked her out.”
You hum and Jin doesn’t even realize you’re writing something down, pen in hand as you scribble onto a piece of paper.
“I can’t believe you wanted to hear about my experience.” He remarks.
“Well, I don’t really understand the romance genre in general.” You mumble, still writing. “And Taehyung said that sometimes experiencing things can help with his art, so I thought talking to someone who has experience would help me.”
Jin quirks a brow, a scrutinising look brewing in his eyes. It catches you off guard when you finally look up, taken aback by him surveying you.
“What?”
He narrows his eyes, “What’s the deal with Taehyung?”
You stare at him wide-eyed. “Deal? What deal?”
“You know what I mean.” Leaning back in his chair, he crosses his arms. The suspicious look in his eyes doesn’t disappear. “Ever since you met him, there's been a lot of ‘Taehyung this’ and ‘Taehyung that’.”
You sigh, his words drawing out a conclusion from you.
“He’s not being distracting, Jin.” You firmly state, much to his surprise. It was always a rare occasion for you to be completely serious. “I’ve learned a lot from him, and he’s truly really fascinating and inspiring to be around.”
A soft smile spreads on your features, recalling all the fond times Taehyung was either teaching you about the way he viewed the world or the places he would take you to explore.
You’re so caught up in your own thoughts that you don’t realize that Jin is still staring at you, the suspicion only increasing further in his eyes.
Jin doesn’t beat around the bush this time.
“Do you like Taehyung?”
You nearly choke, reality bringing you back as the air leaves your lungs in an instant. Glancing up at Jin mortified, you wonder how he drew up that conclusion.
“W-What?! No!” A hue of pink scatters onto your cheeks and Jin quirks his head to the side, like he’s not impressed.
“Really?” He wonders out loud, “Since that museum trip of yours, your head seems to be up in the clouds and as someone knowledgeable in the romance department,” He flutters his fingers like he’s throwing sparkles at you, “I’m starting to think otherwise.”
“That’s crazy!” You retorted in defence, “I can’t like Taehyung!”
“You can’t?” He says playfully, “That’s far from don’t.”
You hurriedly get up, collecting the notes you’ve written. “I-I need to get back to writing.”
The corners of Jin’s lips lift, since this is the first time he hasn’t had to ask you himself to work on your book.
***
He’s just assuming.
You think, hurriedly slipping into your chair. Tapping on your computer, you wait for the pitch black screen to light up.
There was no possible way. Taehyung was simply just helping you with your writer’s slump.
Blinking your eyes a couple of times, you attempt to shake away the lingering thoughts and bring yourself back into focus for this novel.
Only for your eyes to land right on your lit screen, the search you had begun popping in front of your face.
The curiosity is drawn out from you, and before you know it, you begin to scroll.
Majority of them fall within the same bracket of the research you were attempting to do in the beginning process of this book, with links advertising love advice and even counselling. A new link to a kdrama even pops up, something you have to will yourself to ignore.
Until one article crosses your eyes, one that has you more curious than ever.
Having difficulty in finding out if you’ve fallen in love? Find out here!
You frown, hovering over it for a split second. But then you shake your head, reciting to yourself that it was for the sake of writing the novel.
The articles flashes before you, paragraphs of information presented that you proceed to skim through.
“Falling in love is compared with the feeling of euphoria…”
You mumble under your breath, moving past it.
“....There is a semblance of love and trust…”
An idea for a climax ‒ you note ‒ that would tie in nicely with the finale of a romance book.
“...Rifts are commonly experienced…”
You have to create conflict somehow, maybe a difference in opinions.
“Usually the act of falling in love progresses within five steps𑁋“
Your nose crinkles, the corner of your lips twitching.
“There’s steps?” You mutter, body abruptly freezing. Drawing closer to your screen, your eyes slowly drift over the words.
“Stages are reached, each increasing with the notion of being in love. They are known as,”
Attraction.
Curiosity.
Attachment.
Denial.
Acceptance.
It’s a list.
Your genre can follow a list?
Tossingthe thought into the back of your mind, you eagerly continue, curiosity running haywire at this point.
“Attraction is the initial stage, symbolising the origin of interest and can be considered on physical guidelines.”
“Curiosity follows as second, with interest in the person only increasing as time passes by.”
“Attachment signifies the creation of a bond, the mind filled with new thoughts and changes.”
“Denial is the hesitance, acting against any forms of acceptance.”
“Acceptance. Welcoming the thought that you have fallen in love.”
Your mouth twists, each stage sounding more vague and philosophical as the one that came before it. The thought of digging out your ‘The Philosophy Behind Romance’ book from where it was discarded suddenly occurs, until you find yourself re-reading the stages a couple of times over again.
As you lean back into your chair, there’s a glint in your eyes.
Your biggest mistake was assuming you had the willpower to wave off the lingering thoughts, because they come pouring right back in before you can stop them.
If by any chance, he was right𑁋
The stages would have to be followed….
Right?
You cross your arms, skimming through the contents once again.
Attraction.
Did you find Taehyung attractive?
You recall first finding him underneath the glittering moonlight, his sleeping form residing on the bench and his artwork displayed just inches away from him. You can remember him stirring, his feline like eyes holding a strong gaze that almost made you lose your breath.
It’s the same gaze he holds while he’s painting, you pinpoint, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
You abruptly blink, shaking your head.
Curiosity.
To say you didn’t find Taehyung interesting, would have been a huge understatement.
He was different from you, but not in a way that you couldn’t understand. Instead, you found yourself a lot more alike than you had expected, his artistic lens meeting yours.
Attachment.
What even is that?
You can’t help but ponder, thinking at the most you were attached to your writing and books, having an avid imagination since you were young and always finding your footsteps gravitating towards the library. You would find yourself absolutely consumed with the different worlds, eventually leading you towards a career within it.
It was a bond in a way ‒ one that you would always have.
Your lips pursue, a hardened expression taking over.
Was it possible to have the same feeling with another person?
You let out a long sigh, eyes flickering over to the next stage.
Denial.
You freeze.
The hesitance, acting against any forms of acceptance.
The thought snaps into your head unannounced and soon you’re scrambling, attempting to get back to working on your book.
A low chuckle leaves you, tinged with nervousness.
“There’s no possible way…”
***
You stand awkwardly in front of the door, swaying between your two feet.
The home before you is small, looking only to being one-story high and consisting of old granite. There’s an exceptional amount of greenery near it, with a small garden at the side where you can notice subtle cherry tomatoes growing.
There was no telling how you could have best reacted when Taehyung had suddenly messaged you, asking if you would like to come over. You had accepted as always, but you didn’t realize what that exactly entailed until you were standing a mere couple of footsteps away from his door.
Looking down, you groan, wishing Jin had never said anything to you.
The sound of a lock turning has you abruptly on guard, the door yanking open before you can even collect yourself.
And it seems like Taehyung doesn’t give you that opportunity either.
He’s dressed in a casual tee and sweatpants, blonde hair falling to his eyes and a bit ruffled. It’s a stark contrast to constantly seeing him in his brown coat and beret, a casualness that feels too utterly unfamiliar for you.
“Hi.” He says in a low voice, greeting you with a warm smile.
For a moment, you could feel time stopping ‒ one simple thought occurring to you.
He really is beautiful.
Taehyung seems to notice your daze, brows furrowing for a moment.
“Y/N?”
“Uh, hi!” You squeak, probably too many octaves too high.
“Is everything okay?” He ponders and you aggressively shake your head, to which Taehyung stares at you peculiarly for, but ultimately decides to take your word for it.
“Come in.” He steps back in and leaves the door open for you, gesturing to you to follow. You carefully step forward, getting welcomed to the humble abode he calls his home.
The inside is spacious and ornate, the walls being painted with striking colours and light decorations littering the area. The interior seems to match the exterior in a way, appearing rustic but unique at the same time.
It’s cozy. And comforting.
“I apologize for it being messy.” Taehyung states from behind you, quickly picking up a couple of art books on the ground and moving them into a nearby shelf. “My two roommates left to go out of town, and I’ve been here by myself.”
“That’s okay.” You say right away, only to realize that also meant the two of you were alone in here.
He seems to read your mind as well, quickly continuing, “I brought you here for a reason, though I’m not too sure how you’ll take to it.”
You glance at him confused and he walks past you, heading towards one of the doors in the hallway.
Following behind him, he turns to face you. “You saw what my recent art pieces were like at the showcase, but I wanted to do something different for my next pieces. Something more abstract," He explains, eyes lighting up, “and something that’s a bit more fun.”
He opens the door and your mouth falls agape. Because before you is a completely empty room and in the center of it stands a giant blank canvas.
“What…?” You whisper in awe, walking towards it. Taehyung leans against the door frame, a huge grin on his face as he watches you.
You turn, “What is this?”
“I know you’ve been struggling with your novel,” He confesses, “and I thought we could paint this together. Give your creative mind a nice break.”
You’re still in disbelief and he struts up next to you, a playful tone in his voice you’ve never heard before. “Of course, I’ll give you credit for being part of my piece.”
A laugh escapes you, shaking your head at his antics.
Your eyes connect with his.
“Let’s do this.”
***
A wave of light orange splatters diagonally onto the white of the canvas.
You glance at it surprised, the bucket of paint still in your hands.
Taehyung chuckles, amused with your aim. “Not bad, Y/N.”
You smile, putting it down as Taehyung grabs a bright green one, putting all his force into it.
It splatters in the opposite direction, almost creating an ‘X’ shape.
He whistles at the sight and you dash over to the other buckets, kneeling down for another colour. Taehyung had luckily lent you his clothes for the occasion so as to not ruin your own, but as a result the clothes you adorned were a bit bigger in size, hanging off your frame.
You pick up a white in curiosity and Taehyung fondly watches as you quirk your head side to side, ultimately deciding to just go with it.
Chucking the colour against the canvas, the white creates a splatter right in the center. Taehyung hurriedly rushes over to you, a can of smaller paints in his hands with different colours. You chuckle at his eagerness and the way his hands are already stained with colour.
“Keep going,” He encourages, eyes brighter than you have ever seen, “It looks incredible.”
You nod enthusiastically, taking the smaller ones and splattering them across. They come out this time as blots and lines, giving more dimension to the base you and Taehyung first made.
After having used all your energy in attempting to add in more depth with the shapes and colours, Taehyung continues, following your streaks instead of disrupting them. He’s always had an exceptional visual eye, understanding perfectly on where to pick up where you left off, and it’s definitely another one of things you’ve adored about him.
Taehyung’s eyes are wide, a childish glint in them that you’re so happy to have been able to witness. But you don't know that it matches the same glint residing in your own eyes, mischievousness running through every fibre of your body when you pick up a small bucket of blue.
He turns and before he has the chance to say anything to you, a hue of azure blue covers half of his face.
He blinks in shock for a moment, hand coming up to swipe and realize that there was indeed paint on his face. However, his eyes flicker up to connect with yours and all he can see is you grinning from ear to ear.
It doesn’t take long for him to pick up a red that lands all over the front of your shirt and side of your ear.
From there, it’s like a chord’s snapped.
Colours are flying back and forth, from high to low volumes, and in the midst of all this, yours and Taehyung’s voice are running loud, laughs and giggles echoing around the room. As if two children are playing together rather than two adults simply trying to paint.
Taehyung matches your energy so well, attempting to create even more chaos when there’s orange landing directly on your hair after you skillfully managed to get a splatter of purple on his. It’s when the paint shoots out from your hair onto the canvas that an idea occurs to him, his blue covered hand slipping onto yours.
“Wait, Y/N!”
You freeze, staring at him puzzled. He takes your hand, leading you into the front of the canvas before backing away, gazing at you with intent.
The look in his eyes makes you fidget a bit, wishing he would hurriedly tell you what was on his mind.
He raises a hand, halting you in place. “Stay there. Just like that.”
To your surprise, he picks up a large volume of purple, standing right before you.
“Close your eyes, Y/N. Put your hands over them.”
His stance finally alerts you to his intentions, eyes squeezing shut and hands reaching over when you feel a wave of cold paint splash all over you. You wait for a moment as it all drips down, collecting into a pool of purple right below your feet.
Taehyung takes your hand, leading you away from the canvas and next to him as you blink, the piece of art showcasing itself to you.
There’s colours. Everywhere. All appearing between a mixture of random to extremely skillful. All coming from you and Taehyung. And right in the middle of the mix is you.
Your silhouette perfectly lined with a gorgeous shade of purple.
“It’s beautiful.” Taehyung breathes.
You are suddenly very glad there’s paint all over your face, unsure if you would be able to hide the burning expression over your features.
However, the burn abruptly increases, a stinging sensation coming from your face that wells tears.
“Ah.” You wince, rolling into yourself as your hand hovers over your eyes.
“Y/N!” Taehyung’s hands are cupping your face before you can say anything. “Y/N, look at me.”
You obey his instructions, facing him but keeping your eyes squeezed shut. His thumb pads hurriedly brush out the paint that has managed to drip near your eyes.
“Is it gone?” You urgently ask, a tear rolling down your cheek.
“Give me one second.” Taehyung whispers, his hands disappearing for a moment before a cool cloth is pressed against your eyes.
You let out a sigh of relief and the cloth is promptly discarded, your eyes fluttering open.
A part of you wishes you kept them closed.
Taehyung’s face is just inches away from yours, and you can feel the low breaths he lets out.
It’s a fact he seems to realize in that instance himself as well, and there’s a silence that cuts through the air as you continue to stare into each other’s eyes.
Your heart pounds frantically within your chest. After what feels like an eternity, Taehyung moves first, attempting to close the gap but keeping his eyes trained on you. You don’t move for a second, kept frozen beneath his entire presence being so close to you.
It’s when his lips are hovering just above yours, you break the comforting silence.
“W-Where’s your shower?” You look away, grimacing at how broken your voice sounds.
Taehyung doesn’t respond at first, a flash of hurt crossing his features that you don’t see. But it quickly disappears and he clears his throat, separating from you.
“The first door on your left.”
“Thank you.” You quietly say, turning around immediately.
You stalk up to the door, halting when your hand meets the knob. Glancing back at Taehyung, he’s standing with his hands in his pockets, staring at the artwork you’ve just made together with a somber look in his eyes.
Your body stiffens and he glances back in your direction, a small smile on his lips that doesn’t seem to meet his eyes.
Turning to leave, it’s difficult to ignore the way your chest tightens.
***
Your shower was supposed to only be fifteen minutes, but it ends up feeling like a century.
The intent should be to get the copious amounts of paint out of your hair and skin, but as the steam clouds the air and the water drips down from your forehead onto the ground, your head remains planted against the shower wall, eyes squeezed shut.
It doesn’t help that there’s still a faint pool of purple swirling around your feet.
Stepping out of the shower, you open the door and peek outside, only to find your clothes folded on a small chair that’s been positioned right before the bathroom. Sheepishly reaching out, you discard the clothing Taehyung had given you and put your own back on.
You bump into Taehyung within seconds of exiting.
“Y/N.” His eyes meet with yours and you halt your steps. There’s unease brimming in his, but it’s something he doesn’t try to bring up.
“You’re leaving?” He ponders and you shake your head, completely confused on what to even say.
“Taehyung…” You begin, “I‒”
He raises his hand up, “Don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”
It’s hard to not let the guilt show up on your face, but Taehyung leads you to the front door, opening it up for you.
“You helped me with creating a great piece of art.” He says optimistically, “Thank you, Y/N.”
“O-Of course.” You mumble, casting your head down.
Before you can step out, his hand finds your wrist.
“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He whispers, “And I wish you the best of luck with your book. If it’s you, I think it’s sure to come out amazing.”
His words always have a way of giving you a sense of comfort, your frustrations and conflicts with yourself melting away.
But you don’t expect what he says next, “If you ever need anything, anything at all,” The gaze in his eyes leaves you forgetting how to breathe, “I’m always here.”
It’s not until he lets go of you that you remember your intent to leave, slipping away slowly as he closes the door.
***
Jin doesn’t understand why you’re so intent on giving him a heart attack.
The door slams open and you suddenly emerge. But Jin doesn’t have time to retaliate about you freaking him out constantly or that you’ve been out all day and that you need to be making more progress with your book.
Instead, it looks like a piece of your soul’s been crushed.
“Y/N?” He loudly ponders, simply left just staring at you as you hurriedly kick your boots off.
“Jin!” You exclaim, seemingly breathless.
“Did you run here or something?” He asks, a tinge of concern in his words. You simply hand him your coat, heading into your room.
“Where’s my computer?” You question, glancing at him wildly. He’s taken back a bit, but he answers your question.
“There was an electrical issue that needed to be fixed so I temporarily moved it.” He points down the hall, “It’s in the spare room with all the hard copies.”
“Good.” You exhale, dashing over.
“Wait, Y/N‒” He isn’t able to get a word in, the door closing with a loud thud.
There’s a plethora of questions at the tip of his tongue, ranging from why it took you so long to what could have possibly happened, but Jin isn’t able to ponder for long when he suddenly hears the frantic typing of your keyboard.
***
Twenty-four hours.
Jin crosses his arms, standing in front of the room that you have yet to emerge from since the past twenty-four hours. He didn’t say much after you had barged in yesterday and confined yourself inside, simply locking up for the day and leaving some takeout on the table outside in case you got hungry.
And that was all due to the look in your eyes.
It’s a look he’s seen before, on days where you’ve been engrossed in your writing, too occupied with your own racing mind to halt your actions. However, this time he notices a sense of urgency that wasn’t there before.
Which is why when you do finally emerge, he can’t believe what you’re waving in front of his eyes.
“Here you go.” You say, handing him the USB in your hands, “It’s all done, the entire novel.”
“Y/N.” He says astonished, staring at you in pure awe, “How did you manage to write it all?”
You laugh at that and Jin is a little unnerved, wondering how on earth you didn’t look crazy after staying in that one room for so long and just simply typing.
“I think I’ll always be a hermit to some degree.” You toss your coat over your shoulders, reaching down for your shoes.
“Where are you going?” He questions, watching as you finish putting on your boots.
You smile, “I have to go find someone.”
Jin’s eyes widen and without saying another word, you turn to head towards the door.
He scoffs underneath his breath once you leave.
“I knew it.”
***
Taehyung isn’t picking up your calls.
You hurriedly dial the number again on your phone, hearing the familiar ringing over and over until you’re sent to voicemail.
Once the other end beeps, you mumble underneath your breath.
“Taehyung, call me please.”
After leaving the message, you slide your phone into your coat pocket, glancing at the destination you hurried towards.
The home is still there, appearing exactly how you had just left it two days ago.
You frantically knock against the door.
Surely it opens, but to reveal someone else entirely.
“Oh.” You mutter, your expression of relief morphing into awkward surprise. The man standing before you looks equally confused, surveying your face.
“You are…?” He squints, like he’s attempting to place a name to your face.
You answer right away, “I’m Y/N.”
“Y/N?” He repeats, eyes sparkling. “Really? Wow, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”
A nervous laugh escapes you, “And you are…?”
“Oh, sorry.” He sheepishly smiles, reaching out his hand. “My name is Jimin, I’m one of Taehyung’s roommates.”
You nod in recognition, “Are you looking for Taehyung?”
“Yes!” You suddenly exclaim, “Do you know where he is?”
“I just got back in last night.” He says with a grimace, “But Taehyung wasn’t here, the last I heard he was preparing for his next showcase.”
Your eyes widen.
“Thank you, Jimin! I’ll be on my way now!” He waves you goodbye and you spin on your heels, knowing exactly where you needed to be.
***
The art museum looks exactly the same, pieces on for display and spectators walking from room to room, inspecting each one.
However, each exhibit represents a multitude of different artists, none consisting of the one you’re searching for.
“Excuse me.”
You poke a lady that’s wearing a gallery uniform, expectantly looking at her.
“Where is Taehyung’s‒” You bite your tongue, “Sorry, V’s exhibit?”
“Ah, I’m afraid we’re in the midst of clearing up for his next one.” She says with remorse, “There are some of his pieces still left over there if you’d like to view them.”
“I see…” Your shoulders slump in defeat, but you do thank her for helping you out. Heading towards the direction she pointed out, you find the paintings from the last time you had visited the museum.
The corners of your lips curl up. You recall being here, attempting to find the peculiar man after seeing him underneath the starry sky without knowing much about how close you would grow to be.
You come across the same painting, remembering how easily his ability to capture expansive sceneries was. But that’s when you see one of his new pieces, a soft gasp escaping you.
It’s the painting you created together, fully displayed in all its glory.
But it’s not the only one.
There’s a set of three different canvases, all with artworks of you.
One of them is the same painting of the night sky you saw before, but the sky is painted with a deep purple now, the same colour that was outlined with your silhouette. The moon is completely full, stars scattered around that are brighter with a hue of white. You don’t fall to notice that there’s also a bench added at the bottom.
Another one of them is a splatter of photographs, photographs you didn’t even know he took of you. There’s images from the river side, pictures coming from the marketplace, and in all of them he’s managed to capture the spark in your eyes.
The last one has you frozen.
It’s a portrait, but not just a portrait of you.
It’s a portrait of you reading.
The image is uncanny, the light hitting your side profile at a lovely angle, the book in your hands being carefully held, the excitement in your eyes even brighter than the photographs.
Your brows furrow, wondering when Taehyung could have gotten such an image of you. But then you realize he doesn’t ‒ that he’s created the image through himself.
That’s when your eyes have the instant to flicker down, breath hitching once you discover what he’s named all three pieces.
My Muse.
By Kim ‘V’ Taehyung.
Everything stops, and all you’re left being able to do is to simply stare.
“I’m assuming I can’t keep this a surprise anymore.”
You whirl around at the speed of light, recognizing that deep tone from anywhere.
Taehyung stands before you, a soft smile on his lips.
“It’s incredible.” You whisper, “How did you…?”
“I was working on it for a while.” He steps next to you, pointing to the first, “That one was made a few nights after I met you.” He points to the second, “That one was after we had spent time together.” He points to the last, “And that one I made last night, after finishing reading one of your books.”
You stare at the portrait, observing that the book that you’re reading is indeed one of your own.
He read the one where a man turns into a fish.
“You read it?” Disbelief is laced in your voice, mixed with an odd sense of pride.
“Of course, I’ve been wanting to read one of your books since I met you.” He explains, scratching the back of his head. “You saw my art, but I never got a chance to see yours.”
You’re simply at a loss of words. You ‒ the person that had a remark for anything and was able to write countless words at bullet speed, had no more to say.
Taehyung stares at the ground, chewing down on his bottom lip.
“Has your novel writing been going okay?” He blurts, attempting to draw the attention away from his art.
That snaps you out of it. “Uh yeah, I actually finished it.”
“You did?” His head snaps up in astonishment, “Congrats.”
You warmly smile, “Thanks.”
After a moment of silence, he clears his throat, “Listen Y/N, I’m really sorry for not expressing it sooner.” He gestures to his art pieces, “I’m not the best with explaining my feelings, so it's easier for me to integrate it somehow into my‒”
You cut him off mid-sentence, your lips meeting his. The surprise spreads over his face instantaneously, but it doesn’t take Taehyung long to reciprocate, moving his lips against yours.
You separate from him and he blinks, as if caught up in a daze.
“You never asked me what my book was about.” You breathe out.
His brows furrow, “What was it about?”
You grin mischievously, “It’s about a writer and a painter falling in love.”
Taehyung seems to be at a loss for words now, gazing at you in pure surprise.
“Really?” He asks, and you cheerfully nod.
“Yup.” You find his hands, interlacing them with yours.
“I’m really sorry.” Remorse enters your eyes. “Romance has truthfully, never really been my genre.”
Taehyung lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Maybe we can see if that changes.”
There’s a giant smile on your lips that he matches with his own.
Tightening his warm hold on your hand, the pair of you walk away together from the exhibit.
pairing: hoseok x reader
title: in case of emergency
rating: sfw
summary: and then it hits him. you’re it.
wordcount: 595 words
genre: songfic, new relationship, fluff!fluff!fluffyfluff!
warnings: none
a/n: SURPRISE! Did anyone still believe I’d manage to finish these drabbles? This one is for you @hobi-gif <3
a/n2: not beta-ed
Based on this song: Ben Platt - Share Your Address
Milestone Drabble Masterlist // Masterlist // AO3
“Let’s move in together.”
He’s lucky you don’t spit your udon noodles right into his face. With wide eyes you suck the noodles into your mouth, too stunned to even register their chewy texture and the delicious broth that clings to them. Which is really saying something about the grade of your surprise.
You had chosen this particular restaurant for your fourth (FOURTH!!!) date with Hoseok, because you wanted him to experience the satisfaction of a wheat induced food coma and the delicious crunch of shrimp tempura. What you didn’t expect was his proposition and his endeared smile as he registers your very comically grimacing face gaping at him in shock. There are probably still crumbs in the corner of your mouth and your skin is probably shiny (not in the dewy, glowy sense) from the steaming soup.
So you hide your face behind your fingers, after you swallow the mouthful of noodles without really chewing them.
Gently he pries them off. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t hide that beautiful face.” He holds them a little tighter, as you try to put them back onto your face again. “You know, I love you.” You feel heat climbing up your spine and you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to these words leaving his mouth, and you don’t know if you’ll ever get over knowing that he knew he loved you after your first official date. (You’ve decided together that all the shitty coffees in your university’s cafeteria didn’t count, because back then you were just friends.)
“I know it’s early, and I know you’re not ready to say it back. And that’s okay. I’m not in a rush.” He presses a kiss to your knuckle. “But I know this. You’re it for me. I want to share your address, I want to be your emergency contact, I want your mess to be my mess, and I’m so sure about it that I could shout it from the rooftops.”
As he’s saying this and you’re getting lost in the sparkle in his eyes, a vision materialises in front of your inner eye. A rooftop terrace, the sun setting, a picnic blanket on the floor, two glasses of wine, and you nestled between his legs, leaning into his chest.
“And I hope that I’m it for you, too.” He looks away, a little bit of his bravery seeping out and a little blush makes its way to his cheeks. “I’m not saying, let’s do it today. Move in, get married, have kids, or anything.”
You see him waking up next to you, a soft smile and sleepy eyes.
He takes a big breath, directing his gaze back to you. “But I’m saying this. I’m ready whenever you are. Be it today, tomorrow or in three years. As far as I’m concerned our life together has already started.”
You see yourself, carrying a big box up a flight of stairs and it makes you giddy.
Now it’s your turn to pull your joined hands towards you and press a gentle kiss to his knuckle. It’s not an “I love you”, but you know he knows. And then you groan.
“What? What is it? Are you not feeling well?” Hoseok would have jumped to his feet had you not tugged on his sleeve and pushed him back into his chair.
“No, no. Everything is fine. I was just thinking about all the hassles of packing up all my books and moving them across town.”
“So,” His smile is cautious, but also hopeful. “You’re not saying no.
“No.” Your smile mirrors his. “No, I’m not saying no.”
+++
Ⓒaugustbutwinter 2022 (Please don’t repost. If you like it, reblog it, leave a heart, drop me an ask or a message. I’d love to hear from you!
Summary: Y/N Y/L/N, an investigative journalist for the Daily Bullet, usually doesn’t see much out of the ordinary; A missing person’s case gone cold, an old case reopened and solved with updated technology, the thrilling excitement when another puzzle of one of the biggest serial killers is cracked. But when an old file resurfaces, she brings back a past that should have been burned with the file a long time ago.
Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader
Word Count: 3.7k
Chapter Warnings: Swearing, talks of a disappearance/missing person(s), minor/slightly major injuries, falling from heights, broken glass, spiderwebs, allusion to death, food (mostly meat and eggs), please let me know if I missed anything!
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Mystery/Thriller, Paranormal, Strangers to Friends
Chapter Rating: Pg-13
A/N: 😶I have no excuses... I apologize for not having update this is such a while. School is kicking my butt this semester and i've had to put a lot more focus on my classes. BUT i was able to find time each week to finish this chapter! I've been meaning to get this out WAY sooner than it is, but i did what i could. Either way, I'm back! I'm hoping that the rest of the semester goes a little smoother so I can get another chapter out in a more reasonable time! So please stick with me!
I hope you enjoy this chapter though!! 😊
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
3 September, 20XX
You can smell the heavenly aroma of a home cooked breakfast before even ever waking up. It drifts through your dreamworld, reaching your nose, and easing you awake—something that you haven’t had happen since before you started college years ago. It wasn’t often that Jungkook made breakfast. In fact, this would be only the second time he would offer you something other than the bread on the counter and the fruit in the fridge. So before he has a chance to knock on your door or eat all the food himself, you are dressed and stepping out of your room.
You peek your head around the corner, curious to see him in his natural habitat. Since staying here, Jungkook has been on edge with you—which you completely understand. A stranger waltzing into your home trying to solve the cases that were deemed unsolvable, and especially ones that you are personally affected by, isn’t going to make you open up the moment you introduce yourselves. So you try to keep quiet.
Standing in front of the stove, Jungkook flips an egg in the pan. It sizzles the moment it reconnects with the hot metal. It’s hard to tell from the angle you’re at, but the look on his face as he moves around the kitchen seems serene. A stark contrast to the hardened glare he always has around you. He moves to face your direction as he takes the egg from the pan and moves it to the plate sitting on the counter beside him. As quickly and quietly as possible, you push yourself away from the entryway, hoping that Jungkook didn’t notice your presence.
“Staring at me won’t make me like you.”
Damn it.
You carefully step out from your hiding place, an innocent look painted onto your face. Maybe if you appear less hostile yourself, Jungkook might do the same. Though, he doesn’t make an effort to acknowledge you when you walk into the kitchen. Are you disappointed? No. But you wish that he’d make the effort to help you in your investigation, more than the vague answers he’s already given you. If that means you’ll do whatever it takes to show him that you are not the bad guy, that you can be trusted, so be it.
You make a beeline straight for the plate of eggs. Jungkook must not have anticipated your movement as the moment his hands grab onto the plate, you manage to knock your own against it, almost causing the eggs to fly off the plate and onto his shirt. Though, with reflexes faster than the shutter on the film camera, Jungkook is able to pull the plate back to save them from slipping off. His eyes instantly meet yours.
“Sorry,” you mutter, smiling sheepishly at him.
Jungkook scoffs, presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, and swiftly moves to sit in his chair at the dining table. You shuffle over yourself, gingerly pulling out your own chair and sitting down.
For a few minutes, the two of you eat in utter silence. The utensils scraping against the ceramic dishes are the only telltale that either of you are even breathing to begin with. You know your shy glances across the table to the man who despises you isn’t making the tension in the air dissipate any less than it has been over the past week.
Finally, you quietly ask what has been on your mind since the night prior.
“You weren’t ever going to tell me weren’t you?”
Jungkook freezes mid bite. His eyes bore straight through you. Does he even know what I’m talking about? Slowly, he finishes the food in his mouth, his gaze never leaving your face.
“Is that surprising?” He speaks low and slow. He definitely knows, you note. “I don’t have any reason to trust you, let alone tell you that my own friend disappeared because of whatever the hell is happening here.”
The sudden noise of his metal fork connecting with the ceramic as he stabs the egg on his plate, starles you. You're sure he has the strength to break through the plate if he wanted to. You sit up straighter, trying to match his intensity.
“I don’t blame you, but don’t you realize that this could be valuable information? I might be able to figure this out and give you the closure you need.”
Jungkook sets his hands against the table, pushing his chair out enough for him to stand. He leans against the tabletop and brings his face closer.
“I don’t need closure. What I need is for you to leave this town.”
Standing yourself, you mirror his stance. If his idea is to run you out of town by making you feel inferior, he won’t be successful. You’ll give back more than what he’s giving you if that’s what it will take for you to stay and finish your job.
“I will when I’m satisfied.”
“Do I really want to do this?”
Staring up at the fractured facade of the main school building, your shoulders become heavy. No. Your answer is no. Why on earth would someone in their right mind come to a crumbling building willing, to try to find the pieces you need to complete the thousand piece puzzle that this investigation is becoming? Right, because maybe you aren’t in your right mind—were you ever even in the first place?
“Please be kind to me,” you whisper as you step up to the building.
There is only one entrance, Jungkook reluctantly told you before you left, a second floor window on the east side of the school. It’s the only accessible one that was left unboarded thanks to some of the rebellious teenagers that visit the building every once in a while. To get inside, you have to pull over the stack of crates behind the nearest bush. It takes a moment for it to budge from the weeds growing through the holes of the bottom crate, but you manage to drag it haphazardly against the building. With how high the second floor windows are, you’re not surprised to see how steep the makeshift stairs are. One wrong step could send you crashing against the ground. Sure, you more than likely wouldn’t break any bones, but falling against the rocky ground will leave you with a few good scrapes and bruises.
Carefully placing your foot against the first crate, you wobbly push yourself off the ground. The weight of your bulky backpack pulls you back slightly and you have to claw at the next crate up to keep yourself from falling back on your equipment. Slowly, you make it to the top—not without your shoes slipping off the crates a few times on the way—taking a breath before stealthily avoiding the broken glass still in the window pane. Once your feet touch the floor, you let out a sigh. You don’t appreciate standing on solid ground enough.
You pull out your phone. Though nothing else works on it—you’ve tried so many different tricks to get your internet to work, but nothing seems to happen—at least you have enough battery to use your flashlight. There is light coming through the window, but it’s not enough to light the entire area as the sun is shining on the opposite side of the building. Slowly, you scan the room.
“This place is just as bad as the library.”
Crumpled and torn paper, overturned desks, broken bookshelves, and various art supplies are scattered across the floor of the small classroom you find yourself in. You’re not surprised to see that many of the papers, as well as the walls of the rundown school, are covered in crude drawings and spray paint. Do teens have nothing else to do?
You carefully make your way out into the hallway. A chill runs down your spine the moment you step out of the classroom. Though it’s mid-day and probably the clearest sunny day you’ve seen since coming into town, the boarded up windows of the second floor keep most of the sunlight out. There are a few gaps between the boards in the windows on either end of the hallway that give you slivers of light, lighting enough of the path to the staircase that you could probably do without your flashlight. Though, you don’t dare take any risks, keeping your own light shining just ahead of your feet.
You need to get what you’re looking for and get out. Despite having been in abandoned buildings before, there’s something about the school that doesn’t sit right with you. Maybe it’s the fact that all of the children had disappeared from the courtyard, or maybe it’s the idea that anyone could follow you in and sneak up behind you and-
I need to be quick.
Making your way down the stairs, you find yourself in front of an even larger corridor. Memories of your own education begin to come back to your mind as you walk down the hallway, searching for the main office area. Times of embarrassment—like the day you tripped up the stairs in front of a large group of people, one of which was your high school crush—and excitement fills your brain.
“Finally,” you whisper.
The window wall of the office welcomes you. You quickly step inside, dismissing the fact that the door has been pulled off its hinges and most of the glass is shattered. What’s not to expect in a building as damaged as this? You walk behind the front counter—somewhere you did not enjoy going to when you were younger, as that usually was during a trip to the principal's office. A smaller hallway towards the back of the office holds the principal and vice principal’s offices. You can only assume that what you’re looking for is tucked away into one of the rooms.
“If I were a filing cabinet full of student files,” you wonder, “where would I be?”
Stepping through the threshold of the vice president’s office, you weave your way through the doorway as you avoid all of the spiderwebs clustered around the frame. Your eyes quickly spot a couple of cabinets laying on their sides peeking out from behind the desk. A couple of the drawers have popped open—probably after being knocked over—and the files inside threaten to spill out. Leaning in close to see the contents of the open drawers, you smile victoriously.
Inside the cabinet is exactly what you are looking for. Files of students ranging from when the school first opened to when it last held a class lay almost untouched. You take out the crumpled sticky note you shoved in your pocket before leaving the bed and breakfast earlier. Your messy handwriting is hard to decipher even under the light of your phone’s flashlight, but you manage to make out the names of the missing children just enough to move your focus to the filing cabinet.
You thumb through the files. They shouldn’t be that hard to find, right? You’re quickly proven wrong as the files aren’t in alphabetical order like you assumed they would have been. Rather, the students in the same graduating class are situated together. Which, you realize, isn’t very many per class, but when the school has been open since the 1940s, there’s still a lot to go through.
One by one, you sort through the files. To your surprise, it doesn’t take as long to find each student—save for the fight you had opening a couple of the cabinet drawers—and you are out of the office in the blink of an eye. You tuck the handful of files into your backpack, careful not to let the loose papers slip out and land amongst the plethora of paperwork on the floor.
“Shit.”
If it’s a prank, you don’t find it even an ounce funny. In the time you were able to get in and now out of the school, someone has moved the stack of crates back to it’s spot behind the bushes. A chill runs down your spine at the thought of someone watching and waiting for you to explore the building, even if it was a rebellious teenager. You peer out of the window, glancing down at the height of the second story window. If you can’t find another way out of the school, you’re going to have to brave falling to the ground.
You carefully push away from the window, glancing back towards the rest of the building. Is it worth your time trying to find an easier exit? As far as you’re concerned, and from what Jungkook told you, there is no other way out, especially on the ground floor. Though, if you know how teenagers work, you're sure that there is somewhere else that they can sneak through. So you make your way back down the stairs. You scour the building, cautiously poking your head through every open space you can find, yet none of them take you where you want to go.
It’s almost sundown by the time you make it back up to the second story window. Despite your efforts, you can’t find another exit. Your nerves eat at you at the thought of having to jump down from the height. One wrong move and you can kiss yourself goodbye. You peek over the window’s edge. There’s a group of mangled bushes off to the side, and your heart races. If you can manage to swing over and land in the bushes, you will be better off than hitting the dirt patches below you. Taking a deep breath, you slowly slide your backpack off your back. You hang it over the edge and swing it, tossing it a little farther than you thought you would. It lands amongst the branches, cracking a few as gravity pulls it further into the shrubbery. Now for me. Picking up a piece of paper from the floor, you brush away as much of the broken glass shards as you can, keeping you from hurting yourself too much in the process—not that falling from a second story window will do any less damage. Once the loose pieces are pushed to the floor, you throw a leg over the ledge, then the other, twist your body enough that you can hold on without worrying about slipping as you try to get situated, and carefully lower your body down to hang from the ledge.
Your heart is pounding against your chest the longer you hang there. You have to act quick before your fingers lose their grip and you’re sent tumbling to the ground without warning. With what strength you can muster, you try to swing yourself a little as you aim for the bushes. One last swing, and you push yourself away from the wall and towards the shrubbery. Your heart seems to stop. For the split second you feel yourself floating in the air, you regret your actions. What if you don’t land where you wanted to? What if there is something in the bushes that hurts you more than you are expecting? What if-
Your back hits something hard. Your limbs follow, and you can begin to feel the way the branches scrape your skin. The pain doesn’t register in your brain until you relax into the bush. You know, without even having to look, that you’re beaten up pretty badly.
The heat coming from your skin the longer you lay there becomes too unbearable. You have to force yourself to roll out of the bush and onto your feet. Your arms sting the more you move them, but you push through it. Landing wobbly on the ground, you hiss. The cool summer breeze that travels past you makes your wounds hurt more than they were before. Carefully, as to not strain the injuries further, you reach for your backpack. It feels a lot heavier than you remember, but perhaps it’s because you can’t take much weight onto your body. You are sure that you won’t be able to move a limb tomorrow.
“There has to be something.”
You groan. As you shift in your seat, the bandages wrapped around you seem to pull tighter against your skin. Sure, having the pressure is a welcomed feeling, but your unconscious movements lit your body on fire once again.
The moment you arrived back at the bed and breakfast, Jungkook was quick to call you an idiot for doing what you did. Though, that didn’t stop him from helping you take care of your injuries—even if he did it all the while cursing at you underneath his breath.
The student files spread across the surface of the living room coffee table. You were much too sore to move from the couch after being bandaged up, so you decided to look at the files in the open. Jungkook was eager to step into the kitchen when you began pulling out the folders and the first name he saw was too familiar to him. For the hour that you’ve sat, studying each file, comparing one to another, there is nothing that tells you why the children went missing. You had hoped that there would be a common thing amongst the victims—a similar birthday or upbringing; maybe a certain personality trait; anything—but you come up empty.
“Nothing makes sense,” you whine, slowly laying against the back of the couch.
A knock on the doorframe shakes you from your confusion.
“Dinner is ready.”
Your eyes drift to Jungkook’s figure leaning against the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. For a moment, you swear you catch a glimpse of sympathy and concern as he stares at your injured form, but it’s gone the moment you try to search for it further. He pushes away from the wall, turning back towards the kitchen without another word, leaving you to get up by yourself. You struggle, trying to push your body off the couch. It takes you a couple minutes before you can waddle into the kitchen.
The moment you step into the room the smell of meat becomes intense. You could faintly smell it as you sat in the next room over, but you didn’t pay much mind to it, hyperfocused on trying to find a relation between the children. Set in the center of the table for a change, several meat dishes lay on the tabletop. Your mouth waters at the sight of the food. So as quickly as possible, despite the state you’re in, you join Jungkook in dishing up your dinner.
The two of you eat in silence, enjoying the delicious food too much to even think about anything else. But slowly, your mind drifts back to the files still spread on the coffee table. Much like the conversation you had this morning, you break the silence.
“Can I ask you something?”
His eyes glance up to meet yours before flickering back down. He continues to cut at the meat on his plate, responding before shoving a forkful of food into his mouth, glaring at the plate.
“No.”
You dismiss his answer. There is no other way you can get through him besides poking at him with your questions. Soon enough he’ll break like a dam under pressure, right?
“Did you know about any of the other kids before his disappearance?”
“What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?”
“Just answer the question.”
Your food goes untouched as you wait patiently for Jungkook to say something. You’re sure he can feel your stare the longer it takes for him to acknowledge your determined self. As you open your mouth again to annoy him to the point of spilling whatever information he has, he sighs. He glances up at you unfazed by your glare.
“Yeah. Most of it was rumors, but the teachers briefed over them in our history lessons.” He clears his throat, sitting up a little straighter. “So when… that… happened, they tried to pin the blame on me, saying that I tried to ‘copy’ the past.”
“What do you mean?”
Jungkook scoffs, rolling his eyes before shoving the knife in his hand against his food once again.
“If you’re so damn curious, why don’t you read the police report?”
Someone pounds frantically against the front door. It echoes into the rest of the house, a startling difference to the quiet, although tense, conversation between you and Jungkook. You raise an eyebrow at him.
“Are you expecting anyone?”
He glances in the direction of the door. He mutters something under his breath, standing up from the table, and cautiously walks out of the kitchen.
“Stay here,” he warns before disappearing from sight.
You can hear the frustrated sigh he lets out before you hear the click of the lock. The door swings open with a light squeak. Another voice calls out into the air, this time much higher pitched than the man you are staying with.
“Where’s that reporter?”
“Hey! You can’t just-”
As you push yourself from the table, a plump woman appears in the doorway to the kitchen. She turns to look in the room, her eyes widening the moment she spots your figure. She rushes over to you and grabs a hold of your shoulders. You hiss at the contact, but the woman doesn’t seem to notice as she begins rapidly speaking to you.
“You have to help me. My daughter’s gone.”
“Look, Martha,” Jungkook interrupts. The woman, Martha, turns to look at him as he continues. “Go back home. She’s probably just hiding somewhere.”
Martha’s shoulders fall at his words.
“No! She’s really gone!” she exclaims.
She lets go of you, turning her whole body towards Jungkook. You can see the way her hands shake as she reaches out to take his hands in hers. The two of them bicker back and forth for a moment, ignoring your presence.
“Ma’am, are you sure?” you manage to get out between their exchanges.
The moment she meets your eyes again, she’s at your feet. Martha nods frantically, tugging at your arms as you try to lift her from her kneeling position. You wince at her actions, the injuries on your arms still too fresh.
“I heard it.”
With a hum of confusion, your focus switches from the pain in your body to the tears trailing down her cheek.
If you would like to be added to the taglist, send me a message, an ask, or reply to a post from the series! OR if you would like to be added to a more permanent taglist fill out this form!
Summary: It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.
Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (with Friend!Taehyung cameo)
Word Count: 5.1k
Warnings: Slightly suggestive, indirect(?) mention of sex, a couple of swears, mc is pretty mean in some scenes, one sided hatred, slightly ooc jk?, paper-thin walls, i think that’s it...
Genre: Fluff, Angst, Neighbors!au, Enemies to Lovers
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Merry (late) Christmas, Emily! @eternally-writing I hope you enjoy your gift! It was so much fun getting to know you. I hope you had fun! You’ll see in here a few of the little tidbits about you I used to make it more special 😊
This is for @bangtansecretsanta‘s Secret Santa event! Being a part of this event has been such a fun time! I hope to do this again in the future!
Masterlist
Jeon Jungkook. The worst person to have ever walked the earth. The most annoying neighbor you have ever had the displeasure of meeting. The man you wish to hire someone to take out for you. Jeon Jungkook who is currently blasting the Christmas stylings of Mariah Carrey through the paper-thin wall your apartment shares with his.
You wipe the drowsiness from your eyes, glancing over to your alarm clock.
3:18am, November 2nd
“Dammit, Jeon.”
Tossing the comforter off you, much to your dismay, you slowly make your way out of your bedroom. The fuzzy slippers you throw on keep you a little warmer as you trudge through your chilly apartment. When will they fix the heater? With a big yawn, you pull open your door, letting the barren hallway greet you. Your head slowly turns to meet the door of your neighbor’s. If you stare long enough, you’re sure you could see it bending with the base of his music. With a quiet huff, you step towards it, lift your hand, and pound against the door in hopes that he’ll quickly answer.
The music pauses a moment after you knock.
Swinging the door open, brows furrowed, Jungkook peaks his head around the door. You don’t give him the opportunity to recognize who you are before you begin to complain.
“Would you shut that crunchy-sounding Hello Kitty CD player up? I’m trying to sleep!”
The confusion on his face melts into a look of pure amusement—something that tickles you in the wrong way. His lips lift up into a wide grin as he moves to lean up against the door frame, letting you catch a glimpse of the bright red bins scattered in the front area of his apartment. You don’t dismiss the fact that he’s prancing around his apartment in nothing but his underwear and a fuzzy black bathrobe.
“No can do, love!” he sings. “When the decorating bug bites, I shall heal my wound!”
“And you have to do that while making my walls shake with how loud you’re playing your music? There are other people in this building ya know,” you grumble.
You gesture through the rest of the hallway, towards the two doors opposite yours and Jungkook’s. You have yet to see the people who live in the apartments, but you know that there are inhabitants thanks to the—lovely—sounds of the couple in the one across from yours and the yelling of the other for them to keep it down only three days into your move.
“Ah, I forgot. You haven’t lived here long enough to know that this is how I decorate every year.” His head tilts to lay against the door frame as well. “See, you’re the only one complaining because you haven’t learned the art of deep sleep. Or buying a decent pair of earplugs.” He shrugs.
“And you get away with this that easily?”
Jungkook lets out a bright laugh, pushing himself to stand up straight. He throws his arms out, almost as if he’s going to force you into a hug, and leans in a little closer to you. You take a small step back to try to keep him out of your personal bubble.
“Of course! Everyone loves me. You should really try it sometime. You’ll find that I am something out of this world.”
“No wonder why you always look so green,” you chuckle. “Tell me how far you came from so I know where to drop kick you back to.”
You watch as he rolls his eyes and steps back into his apartment a little more.
“Whatever. Now if you’ll excuse me, this apartment won’t decorate itself.”
Jungkook gives you one last grin before he closes the door in your face. The sound of the deadbolt sliding into its place has you scowling at the man. Who does he think he is that he believes makes him the favorite tennant?
You trudge back to your own apartment, set on making a note to call your building manager in the morning about the disruption. The moment you step through your open door, Jungkook starts up his music once again, leaving you to loudly groan in hopes that he’ll hear your displeasure.
“I’m telling you, Tae. The guy is getting on my last nerve. Do you want to know how many times I’ve woken up to him playing the most obnoxious Christmas music at three in the morning?”
You whine into your phone’s speaker, a pout on your face as you retell the events of the past couple of weeks to your closest friend, Taehyung. If anyone were to turn down the aisle you're in, you would abandon your cart of groceries to get away from the embarrassment.
“Y/N-”
“Eighteen times!” You quietly shout. “And you want to know what he calls me every time I go to complain?”
“I don’t-”
“Love! Why does it have to be that out of everything he could say? I’m getting sick and tired of his shenanigans real quick, Tae,” you grumble out.
“Would you let me speak, woman?”
Your ear rings with the sudden raise in volume he speaks to you with. Though he can’t see you, you begin to shrink in on yourself, your eyes cast down at the realization of your nagging.
“Sorry.”
“Look,” Taehyung sighs. You’re sure he’s rubbing his forehead in hopes to get rid of the headache you are giving him. “I don’t know what to tell you anymore. We call every single week to catch up with each other, especially where I’m halfway around the world right now, and all you can talk about is this neighbor of yours. Hell, I don’t even know his name!”
“It’s Jungkook,” you answer as you reach for the can of soup you’ve been eyeing for the past few minutes.
“That’s not my point. My point is, maybe your dislike towards the guy is only hiding other feelings you might have for him.”
You let out a single laugh.
“Me? Have feelings other than hatred towards him? Impossible. I’ve lived here for seven months now and he has only gotten worse the longer we’ve known each other.”
You push your cart a little farther down the aisle, half paying attention to the mumbles coming through your phone and half paying attention to the different flavors of ramen you stop in front of.
“Sometimes I wish I could fly back home just to smack some sense into you.”
“You’d only come back to hurt me?” you whine. “And I thought you were my friend.”
Another groan. You’re sure Taehyung is ready to reach through the phone and strangle you for the attitude you're giving him. A moment passes before he tiredly sighs into your ear.
“I’ve gotta go. It’s 2am and I’ve got another shoot in a couple of hours.”
Your eyes are glancing around, hoping to find a clock somewhere on the walls of the store.
“Oh! Is it really that late there? I’m sorry for keeping you up for so long!”
“Nah, I enjoy being able to talk to you.” You can practically hear the smile creeping onto his lips. “At least until you start talking about loverboy.”
You freeze, brain malfunctioning at the name he gives your enemy. Why would Taehyung dare call him that in your presence?
“He’s not- just get some rest ya doof. Don’t need you dropping the camera in front of all those famous people cause you didn’t get any sleep.”
“You’re annoying,” Taehyung calls out.
“But you love me!”
“Yeah, yeah. I really gotta go now.”
You smile, happy that he is still eager to play along with your bantering. You reach out for a pack of noodles, tossing it in your cart as you wish him good luck at work when he wakes up. He gladly appreciates your encouragement and sends you a wish of a good day to you. You don’t want to end the call, too eager to hear how his travels have been over the last couple of weeks, but you know you need to if you are to focus on your shopping and get home to rest as soon as possible.
“Alright. Goodnight, Tae!”
“Night, Y/N,” Taehyung repeats softly.
You end the call and tuck your phone back into your jacket pocket.
“Who was that? You’re boyfriend?”
The sudden appearance of someone next to you has you dropping the second pack of ramen you grab in surprise. The sound it makes as it lands against the ground seems to echo in the aisle. You huff, throwing Jungkook the angriest glare you can give.
“Jeez,” you breathe, reaching down to pick up the ramen. “A little warning next time would be nice.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
Jungkook stares at you with a quirked eyebrow. He watches as you toss the package into your cart, reach for another pack, but decide against it as you move onto the next section in the aisle.
“Doesn’t matter. What are you doing here anyway?”
“Uh,” he thinks, lifting up the large container of ice cream in his hands. “Shopping like the rest of the people here?”
You roll your eyes at his answer. If he’s shopping around, why is he still here next to you?
“Whatever. Don’t you have some trouble to stir up elsewhere?”
“Nope! Only wherever you are, love.”
There’s that awful name again. And the smile that graces his face does nothing to stop your heart from pounding in your chest with the want to wipe it off his pretty little face.
“Would you stop calling me that?”
“What?” Jungkook muses. He steps closer to you, leaning in with his head tilted in amusement. “Will it make your boyfriend jealous?”
You scoff.
“You’re annoying.”
“And it’s entertaining when you’re annoyed.”
Jungkook takes the opportunity to wink at you, sending your mind flying at all the ways you’d get rid of his stupid grin. You turn your back towards him as you make your way to the end of the aisle.
“Let me shop in peace, would ya?”
For a moment, he doesn’t follow you. Maybe he finally is leaving you alone for the first time since moving in. Though, the peace doesn’t last long as he jogs to catch up with you as you walk around the shelves to walk down the next aisle.
“We’re going back to the same place anyways,” he hums. “I’ll just wait until you’re done.”
Your eyes drift down to his hands, catching a glimpse of the newest addition to his shopping.
“You’re only getting a pack of ramen and a tub of ice cream?”
“I have simple needs.” Jungkook shrugs and sends you a small smile before he walks off to the registers.
You try to ignore the nagging in your brain that’s telling you to hurry with the rest of your shopping. Though it’s cold outside, you know that his ice cream will melt in a matter of time. Plus it looked like he didn’t have a thick enough jacket for the weather. If he waits outside, he could get sick. You stop suddenly, throwing out a quiet apology to the person behind you when they grunt in displeasure at your action. Why am I worrying about that? you wonder. Let it melt for all I care.
It doesn’t take you much longer to finish going through your grocery list anyway. Maybe you’ll regret not staying longer for the sake of making Jungkook wait. Maybe he would have given up and left, leaving you to take your things home alone. Wouldn’t that have been nice.
The moment you reach for the bags after paying, another set of hands beat you to it. Jungkook must have been waiting inside if he managed to snatch up your groceries before you could get a chance to even touch the bags. You frown at him. With his arms full of your bags—and the single bag of his—he takes it upon himself to also put your cart away. You follow after him with your arms crossed against your chest. If anyone is looking at the two of you, they’ll think you’re crazy.
“I can take my own groceries,” you call out to him as he steps through the doors of the store.
He ignores you, only turning to skip lightly down the two blocks it is to your apartment complex.
Finally. After a full week of non-stop working; staying in the dance studio for hours on end as you try to work out the kinks of the upcoming Christmas performance you were hired to choreograph, you are given three days to yourself. It’s not that you don’t like working for the entertainment company you’re in, but now that you’re coming up on the end of the year, there’s a performance of some sort almost every week. So when you manage to get the time off, you don’t want to do anything but stay in and binge whatever show looks like it will hold your attention.
Draped against your couch, you lay with the remote in your hand, scrolling through all of your streaming services to find the perfect show or movie to kickstart your—hopefully—quiet break. So far, nothing sound interesting to you. Maybe you should give up and fall into a spiral of random YouTube recommended videos.
Thud.
You shut your eyes, your hand reaching up to rub the sudden bout of irritation the noise on the other side of the wall is giving you. All is silent for a moment. The hope you have that it was only Jungkook dropping something, picking it back up, and being on his merry way grows inside you. You sigh, happy that nothing else is happening. Though, just as you click into a video, you hear it.
“Y/N!”
It’s only mumbled at first, quiet enough that even the thin walls of your apartment make it hard for you to hear it. Maybe you’re only imagining it.
“Y/N, I need some help!” Jungkook calls out a little louder.
You try to turn up the volume of your TV to drown him out. If you ignore him, maybe he’ll leave you alone. But that only seems to egg him on.
“Y/N! I know you’re home!”
Just one day. You ask for just one day without any interruptions from the boy next door. Pausing your video, you’re sure he knows he got your attention even with how much you didn’t want to give it to him.
“Y/-”
“What do you want? I’m trying to relax here!”
He’s silent for a moment, beginning to make your blood boil. If he wanted to annoy you that bad, he could have done it any other day. Doesn’t he know that you haven’t gotten a single day to do nothing in a while?
“Um… I got stuck,” his voice is low, almost as if he’s embarrassed for what he is saying.
“That sounds like your own damn fault.”
“Will you please just come help me?” He pauses. “I’ll do whatever you want in return.”
You stare amused at your pale grey wall. Does he know what he’s saying? Maybe he hit his head somewhere on the way.
“That’s a dangerous proposition. Are you sure you want to stick with that?”
There’s no hesitation in his voice when he responds to you. You can hear the slight desperation as he whines.
“Yes! Now would you hurry? I can’t stay like this, my leg’s starting to fall asleep.”
You sigh. There’s no way that he’ll let you have a peaceful day if you don’t heed his wishes. But you try to prolong seeing his face, ambling towards your door despite his promise of doing anything you ask of him. What are you about to walk into?
The moment you reach his front door, you don’t bother looking for a spare key. Jungkook seems like the kind of guy to keep his door unlocked when he’s home. So when you push down on the door handle, you’re not surprised to find it open.
You don’t need to step too far into his apartment to find Jungkook. With the open floor plan, you have the perfect view of his living room—where you notice Jungkook is tangled up in a large mess of Christmas lights, shoved into the branches of the half decorated tree. He’s on one leg in an invisible chair position as he tries to keep his weight off the plastic branches. You can see the strain in his face from being in the position, for who knows how long, as he glances up at you. You throw your hand over your mouth as a giggle spills from your lips at the sight.
“Don’t laugh! Just come untangle me, please,” Jungkook whines.
His pout doesn’t stop you from laughing as you enter his apartment and help save him from his impending doom of the lights overheating. Who plugs their lights in before they hang them up?
The longer you take to unwrap the colorful mummy, the more it seems like he is getting even more tangled. You can’t tell where one loop ends and where another begins. Though, you can see the relief wash over his face when the lights become loose enough to slip down into a pile at his feet. And the moment they do, you turn face and leave his apartment as quickly as you entered it.
“I’ll let you know when I’ll cash in that IOU,” you call out as you close the door behind you.
A knock on the door echoes through your apartment and you’re up from your couch and at your door before whoever it is has a chance to leave. Hoping that it’s a cute delivery guy with your food, you quickly run your fingers through your hair and open the door. The soft smile you wear fades into a frown.
“What do you want?”
Jungkook sheepishly raises the large bag of take-out—your bag of take-out—in his hand.
“They accidentally delivered this to my door.”
You shift slightly, going to reach for the bag. Jungkook must have mistaken your movement as permission to push past you into your apartment as he is now in your kitchen, pulling the containers out onto your small island.
“Come on in, why don’t you,” you mutter.
“Are you expecting someone?” Jungkook asks. He looks at you expectantly as you make your way towards him. “Although maybe not. I’m sure I would have heard the two of you by now if you were.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
Jungkook shrugs looking down at the containers as he opens them to see what you bought.
“You seem like the loud type.”
“Excuse me?” you ask exasperatedly.
He ignores you to instead open a couple of your drawers.
“Where do you keep your utensils?”
You slam shut the drawer he opens next, grabbing his attention. You glare at him with every angry bone in your body. Did he even realise what he said? The doe-eyed look he is giving you tells you no, but if your relationship is anything to go off from, he must be playing innocent with you. He knows what he’s said.
“Nu uh. You don’t get to barge into my house, suggest you know how I am in bed, and think that you can eat my dinner.”
His jaw drops at your words.
“So you are going to eat all of this by yourself?”
“What’s it matter to you?” you argue. “A girl can’t have a big appetite?”
He moves on to another drawer, continuing his search, shaking his head in the process.
“Oh, nothing. Just surprised.”
The amount of anger your holding back from him becomes too much for you to handle. After eight months of nothing but heated conversations, being woken up in the middle of the night by whatever inspiration Jungkook magically has, and the smug look he always seems to have on around you, this is what tips you over the edge. Does he think that you should be as small and fragile as a doll? You don’t have the energy to yell at him. So as quietly and as sternly as you can, you point at your door.
“Get out.”
From the other side of your island, Jungkook perks up. His head whips around, hair flying with the sudden motion, and stares at you in confusion. The moment he sees the smoke coming from out of your nose—as if you are a fire breathing dragon ready to strike—his eyes flash with realization.
“Wait, I didn’t-”
“I said get out.”
He doesn’t hesitate to leave. Eyes downcast, Jungkook exits your apartment without another word.
Another day’s end, another long walk up the stairs to your apartment. Unfortunately, the elevator in your building has been out for a couple weeks and maintenance has yet to fix it. You know you aren’t ready for walking up five flights of stairs. After today’s segments of intense practice, you are ready to knock yourself out with a glass—or two—of wine and the warmth of your comfy bed.
Stepping into the mostly empty lobby of your building, your eyes catch the sight of your suspicious neighbor. Jungkook is standing in front of the out-going mailbox glancing around like a spy would when trying to send information to his boss. You would have walked right past him to get your own mail, but the glimpse you see of a bright red envelope intrigues you too much. He notices your gaze and throws his hands behind your back.
“What are you trying to hide?” you ask as you join him.
You try to peek around his shoulders. Is he sending a love letter to someone? For some reason your heart aches slightly at the thought. You don’t let it show on your face. Why should it affect you when you don’t see him as anything other than your enemy? Much to your amusement, you manage to reach around Jungkook and snatch the envelope from his fingers. He tries to grab it back, but you step back and turn away from him before he can.
In your hands, the bright red envelope entices you. There’s a glittery sticker of a Christmas tree holding it closed. When you flip it over, you are greeted with slightly messy handwriting and a variety of other colorful stickers. Scribbled in the center of the envelope is the name Santa Claus, and the address to the North Pole. You chuckle looking back over your shoulder.
“You still write letters to Santa?”
Jungkook avoids your eyes as you wait for his answer. He fumbles with his fingers, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek.
“No, this is my nephew’s.”
“Then why are you nervous, huh?” Turning around, you tilt your head and cross your arms in front of your chest. You hold the letter gently with your fingertips. When Jungkook doesn’t give you an answer, you scoff. “Geez. The one that seems so tough still sends letters to Santa. Didn’t your parents tell you the truth?”
“Just because I know the truth doesn’t mean that I don’t have to stop a tradition.” He frowns at you.
You raise the letter to look at it once more.
“I just think it’s a little dumb. You know that these things don’t make it anywhere, right? They sit at the post office unopened, untouched.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Jungkook snaps. He takes the letter from your hand and shoves it into the mailbox. “Why are you so adamant on ruining such a small thing, huh? You know, so far, you’ve been nothing but a Scrooge.” He shoves his finger into your shoulder. “Let me celebrate the way I want to celebrate.”
“I would if you learned how to turn down the music in the morning!” You shout as he walks towards the staircase.
“Have yourself a merry little Christmas.”
Ornament after ornament, you carefully decorate your tree. Many of the decorations have been in your life for years, most of which are things you made in school or at home. Several of them are falling apart from the years of use, but you don’t have the heart to throw them out just yet. Too many memories. You carefully set them in their designated spaces on your small tree with a warm smile. It’s not much, but the way the lights shimmer through the plastic pine needles, makes your undecorated living room much more lively.
As the song slowly melts into the next on your Christmas playlist, your eyes drift to your shared wall. You’ve noticed. Since meeting him in the lobby a week ago, Jungkook’s apartment has been awfully quiet. Of course, it’s possible that he has left to visit family for the holiday. It is mid-December already.
The quiet air between the two apartments has left you time to think. You remember the words Taehyung has spoken to you about your situation in your many phone calls. And still, he gives you the same answer.
There is no doubt that he caught your eyes when you first moved into the building. His kind nature and the want to take up the few boxes of belongings you brought with you definitely made a good impression on you. Though, after the first few weeks, your attitude towards him changed. Sure, Jungkook stayed his sweet self, offering to help you when he noticed you struggling with your shopping bags, or asking you if you were alright when you shouted in pain after running into your kitchen island. But it became a little too much for you. You’re not sure when it all changed, but eventually he, too, got used to you nagging him during every interaction you had. Your affection quickly became irritation and soon enough you pushed all of the feelings you began to have for him to the back of your mind.
You know you have to come to terms that no matter how much he’s angered you in the past couple of weeks, Taehyung is right. You’ve been hiding your feelings for too long and now that you’ve pushed him away, you’re not sure where you stand with him. Hopefully it isn’t too late. Though, it will have to be something you solve tomorrow as you’re sure he wouldn’t appreciate your presence at his door at eleven at night.
Coming home the following day, you are greeted with a pleasant surprise. Just before you push your door open to get into your warm apartment—now that the heater is fixed finally—Jungkook’s door flies open. He’s in a rush, you can tell by the way his coat is haphazardly thrown on and his shoes are untied.
“Oh! You’re home.”
His eyes meet yours, but instead of the playful twinkle that usually welcomes you, there’s a cold front that he has put on.
“Yeah, have been the entire time,” he mutters.
You follow him with your gaze as he walks past you to get to the elevator—maintenance also fixed that thankfully.
“I thought you left to visit family.”
“Nope…” The air between the two of you is strange. Have you already screwed up your chance with him? “I’ve gotta go.”
You don’t stop him. Only watch as he enters the elevator, not giving you another glance.
“Come on, open the door.”
You’re antsy. The cookies in your hands are slowly becoming cold, and if Jungkook doesn’t answer the door in the next minute, you’re going to lose all of the confidence you have in the moment.
The past few days, after meeting Jungkook in the hallway, you spent your time trying to think of the best way to apologize. Nothing you thought of seemed to suffice. It wasn’t until you remembered that your parents had a cookie recipe that would give an opportunity to help mend your relationship.
Just as you are about to leave, sure that he isn’t going to open the door if he knows it’s you, the deadbolt clicks open. You rush out your words the moment the door opens, hoping that once he sees you, he won’t slam the door on your face.
“Can I cash in that favor now?”
“Look,” he whispers tiredly. “I’m not really in the mood right now. I’ll help you out any other time.”
You lift up the plate of cookies with an apologetic look.
“Even if it’s enjoying these cookies with me?”
Jungkook sighs. He glances back into his apartment before meeting you gaze again. Quietly, he steps back, opening the door a little more to allow you to slip past him.
You don’t say anything as you sit down on his old grey sofa. As Jungkook cautiously joins you, you unwrap the plate and hold it towards him, offering up the warm gingersnap cookies. You wait until he devours the first cookie and reaches for more to say anything.
“I’m sorry.”
Gingersnap in his mouth, he turns to face you like a deer in headlights.
“Huh?”
You shrug. Setting the plate down on the small coffee table, you fumble with your fingers.
“For everything. For yelling at you early in the morning-”
“I think I deserved that though,” he chuckles softly.
You playfully glare at him for interrupting you. He notices the look, raises his hands in faux surrender, and gives you a small smile in return.
“For pushing you away when you were only trying to help when I first moved here. For being a dick about the letter thing.”
Your heart is beating harshly against your chest. You’re sure with how quiet it is between the two of you, he can hear it loud and clear. Jungkook takes a deep breath, opening his mouth to speak. Taking the opportunity before you lose whatever confidence you have left, you speak up before he can.
“What I’m trying to say is that- IwasonlymaskingmyfeelingsforyouwithangerbecauseIwasscaredtoadmitthatIfellforyouthefirstweekImovedin,” you say breathlessly.
His brows furrow in utter confusion the longer he tries to decipher what you meant.
“What?”
“I like you.”
With a light giggle, Jungkook takes your hands. He tilts his head in amusement at the sudden shyness you’re showing him.
“I’m glad you finally realized.”
“Hey!”
He reaches for one more cookie before throwing the two of you sideways onto the sofa. Jungkook settles into your side, cuddling up to you while eating. You let out a laugh when you notice the satisfied smile gracing his face.
“Are we good now?”
“Mmm…” he hums as he finishes the gingersnap. His lips twist in thought before you notice a flash of something in his eyes. “I think I need something more than just these cookies.”
“Like what?” you ask hesitantly.
Whatever he has in mind, you’re not sure you want to know. Though, you don’t have time to protest. Jungkook quickly leans in, placing his lips against the apple of your cheek.
“That.”
Setting his face in the crook of your neck, he holds you tighter. The greatest Christmas gift you know you’ll receive.
Summary: It’s the holidays once again, and you want nothing more than to spend it with him.
Pairings: Min Yoongi x Reader
Word Count: 4.1k
Warnings: Slightly suggestive? There’s really nothing in this one. Not really much of a strong plot line, just a lot of fluff.
Genre: Fluff to the max! Slice of Life, F2L, Domestic life
Rating: PG
Prompts: (will be bolded for easier finding)
“Mistletoe is allowed only for the holiday season.” “It is the holiday season.” “Oh…then kiss away.”
"I’m offended, you look great in this ugly christmas sweater. This is a scam.”
A/N: A gift for @btsarmy9593. Suprise surprise E! It’s me, your secret santa, snowflake! I hope you enjoy your gift 😊 I had so much fun making this and sending you asks. Maybe a little too much cause I fell asleep last night before I could finish and post it lol.
This is for @btswritingcafe‘s Secret Santa event! I’m so happy I joined this as it was super fun to do.
Masterlist
“It’s the most wonderful time of the-”
A hand reaches towards the volume dial. You quickly glance over to Yoongi as he presses it, turning off the radio completely.
“You know, as much as I like Christmas music, do they have to play the same five songs over and over again?”
You roll your eyes, a small smirk growing on your face.
“Oh come on," you laugh. "Says the one who listens to Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want For Christmas is You’ any chance he gets.”
“Can you blame me? It’s catchy!”
Your fingers fumble slightly with the turn signal. The car in front of you is not going fast enough for your liking. Though, neither is the one that you move behind, but you decide to suck it up, sigh quietly to yourself, and stay where you’re at.
“Yeah, but there’s other songs that are just as good, if not better," you jest.
Another glance at Yoongi makes you chuckle. His body is turned away from you—at least as much as he could in your small car—head facing the window. His cheeks are puffed up slightly with the small pout present on his face. You hum, turning back to the road.
“You’re just sour that you can’t hit those high notes.”
“Neither can you,” he scoffs.
Your hand flies to smack at his thigh. Yoongi gasps, and turns toward you. From the corner of your eye, you can make out the shocked look that flashes across his face as he yelps out.
“Hey!”
You flick your blinker on one more time, check your blind spot, and move over to the turn lane. Behind the already long line of cars waiting to turn into the full parking lot. Your groan shakes Yoongi from his focus on his faintly stinging thigh to greet the same sight you have.
“We’re never going to find a parking spot,” you mutter.
With the holiday season riding your tail, you and Yoongi decided to start your Christmas shopping. It's a tradition you've started, ever since either of you could drive, to go shopping the week after Black Friday. Though, it seemed like everyone else had the same idea. The mall welcomes a sea of people every minute, swallowing up a crowd before it spits out a smaller crowd, several bags in hand, looking stressed at all the shopping they have to do.
“You knew what we were getting into,” Yoongi mentioned.
Of course you knew. It's the first week of December, the start of the holiday rush. It may be the so-called ‘most wonderful time of the year’, but with all the people running in to get the best deals—on things that will more than likely be thrown out by next Christmas—it’s slowly turning from wonderful to dreadful.
“Yeah, but it’s a Tuesday!” you wine. “You would think with how many people are here today that it’s a normal Saturday!”
Yoongi chuckles at your misery.
As you turn down each of the aisles, you watch as the cars in front of you take the obscure open spots one by one. Yoongi helps keep another pair of eyes out for any spot that you might miss. It isn’t until you’ve made your way through almost every aisle, now at the farthest place you could park without leaving the main lot, that you see Yoongi’s hand shoot up in front of you.
“There!”
Store after store, the two of you traipse through the mall. Though most places have good deals on things, you have to turn a blind eye to some of the prices. Why does your family have to want expensive things?
You manage to make it towards the last couple of stores before you can really start to feel the pain in your feet. Walking into the clothing shop, your eyes scan the first few racks. Towards the front corner of the shop, a rack filled with bright red and green sweaters catches your attention. You rush towards it. Yoongi trips after you, calling out for you to slow down. You pay him no mind as you reach the rack.
Stifling a giggle, you stare at the first few sweaters in the front. The first two, a green sweater with striped sleeves and a cute little gingerbread scene on the front, and a bright red sweater with a plump Santa stuck upside down in a chimney. But the one that has you letting out a laugh is one that has an elf looking eerily similar to the man standing beside you.
“Oh look! I didn’t know you modeled.”
You point at the sweater, turning to face Yoongi with a wide grin. He rolls his eyes as he lets out a quiet scoff.
“Very funny.”
“What do you think, should we get ones for the party?” you ask, turning back towards the rack and sifting through the different designs.
“I don’t mind.”
Yoongi joins you, pulling out a few to show you as he goes. Your arms begin to become heavy with the amount of sweaters you’ve gathered—a few from the ones that Yoongi showed you; because if he found them funny, then you were sure to pull some sort of reaction from him, and hope to see if his feelings reflect your own towards him. Taking one last one from the man, you shift all of the bags you are carrying to your hands.
“Will you hold these? I’m gonna go try these on.”
You don’t leave any time for Yoongi to respond before you dump your bags into his arms. All that follows you is the light huff of laughter that he lets out as he watches you briskly walk to the dressing rooms.
Piece after piece, you come out of the dressing rooms to show Yoongi. Though, he isn’t much help when he continues to give you the same slightly uninterested look for every sweater. It isn’t until the fourth sweater that you give up on trying to show off for him.
“While I decide which one to buy, why don’t you try some of them on,” you grumble.
“Alright, alright. Wait here.”
You’re not sure what to expect. You know Yoongi had walked into the dressing rooms with a couple of sweaters, but you didn’t pay much attention to what he had grabbed. So when he walked out wearing one of the most ridiculous looking sweaters, you can’t help but gawk in both amusement and offence. The sweater itself is a simple Christmas-y green. If it was left at that, you wouldn’t have bat an eye towards it. Draped around the entire item is a thick strand of garland-like material with small baubles adorning the greenery. You appreciate the look of the sweater on him, the way the garland hugs his torso just enough to show off his figure, sending your mind running. Though, just looking at it makes your skin feel itchy.
“So?” He tilts his head, one brow raised slightly as he waits for you to say something. “Thoughts? Look, it even lights up.”
Yoongi presses a button near the neckline and the sweater shines brightly and colorfully. You scoff, looking him up and down once more before you answer.
“I’m offended. You look great in this ugly Christmas sweater. This is a scam.”
Mockingly angrily, you cross your arms in front of your chest. You turn your head away and jut out your lips in a small pout. But because of your faux jealousy, you miss the starry-eyed gaze he gives you.
“I’ll buy it then,” he chuckles lightly.
Yoongi begins to turn towards the dressing rooms, but decides against it, making his way closer to where you are sitting instead. He leans in, putting himself on the same level as you. You can feel the heat begin to crawl up your neck at the proximity. Trying to keep your composure, you force yourself to keep your gaze on the oddly posed mannequin in the next section. Though, once you feel the tip of his finger pressing into your cheek, your pout melts away into a look of surprise.
“Don’t be pouty,” he giggles. “How about we hit up one last shop. We still got two weeks to shop for gifts. We’ll grab takeout on the way to your place, and have a movie marathon. Neither of us work tomorrow, so we don’t have to worry about that.”
Eyes shining brightly, you turn to face him better. Yoongi lets out another laugh at the sight of your excitement.
“Oh! Can we get that one place that sells our favorite spicy chicken?”
“Of course,” he nods.
With one last smile, Yoongi gets up and walks to the dressing rooms, leaving your heart beating much faster than you would have liked it to in the moment. You only hope that he couldn’t hear it from where he was.
The moment you pull up to the party house, your eyes catch the multitude of decorations covering the lawn. You don’t expect less from your friends, knowing that they love to put their all into this holiday. And even as you walk up to the front door you can see a glimpse of the madness inside the house, too.
“Wow. They really outdid the place, didn’t they?” Yoongi chuckles beside you as he rings the doorbell.
As you wait for someone to answer the door, you admire the dedication it would require to put all of the decorations up. Not to mention having the power to be able to keep the display lights on for the entire month. You would simply pass away after seeing the electricity bill after the season is over.
The door clicks quietly before it opens, a familiar face popping into view. Jimin’s bright smile quickly warms up the freezing air around you.
“Hey! You made it!”
“Of course, why wouldn’t we?” You muse.
Jimin ushers the both of you into his house, stripping you of your heavy winter coat the moment the door closes. Yoongi takes a hold of the gift bags in your hands to make it easier for Jimin to help you slip out of your gear.
“You both are always all over each other,” he says. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if you skipped out on the party.”
You ignore the teasing tone he speaks to you as you begin to walk further into the house, opting to reach for the gift bags again. Yoongi moves them away from your grasp and turns to Jimin.
“Ah. Where do you want these?” He asks.
“There’s a table downstairs with all the others. Everyone else is down there too.”
Just as you are about to turn towards the stairway to the basement, another familiar face pops his head into the kitchen doorway.
“Y/N! Yoongi! Man, you two are rocking the sweaters. Come have some food!”
In his hands, Jin holds a small plate with what looks to be a slice of chocolate cake. He waves you into the kitchen. Before either of you can reach the doorway, Jin is already piling up a stack of treats for the both of you to take. Thanking him, you join the rest of your friends down stairs where they pause the Christmas movie they had started only a couple of minutes before to greet you and Yoongi properly.
At first, the company is welcoming. With how busy your lives have gotten after graduating from high school several years back, it’s hard to find a time where your friend group can gather. It’s moments like this that you’re grateful for the holiday season. Despite the craziness of holiday, the rush to find the perfect presents for friends and family, the time it takes to travel to relatives homes in the poor weather, you and your friends always find a moment to spend some time together before the end of the year. Though, there comes a point when it’s all a little too much for you to handle.
It’s been two hours since the movie ended. Your friend, Tiffany, decided it was a good idea to start a competition between her and Jungkook on who could win the most rounds of foosball. The others joined along, adding new challenges to the mix, cheering them on as the harder it became for them to win each round. You were excited in the beginning, seeing the glint of mischief in Tiffany’s eye as she spoke out her plans. You had even joined her in a two-on-two round with Yoongi as Jungkook’s partner—you and her proudly won that round. But the longer it went on, the more you could feel yourself grow exhausted from the party.
You find yourself on the balcony in Jimin’s guest room. Since arriving at the party, the snow had fallen gently onto the night scene around you, blanketing the already snow covered ground in a fresh layer of powder. You watch as the snowflakes fall onto the sleeves of your sweater. If you look close enough, you can see the details in the snow, the crystallized patterns of each individual flake. You’re not sure how long you stand out there in the cold, too mesmerized by the snow to bother checking the time.
“There you are. I thought you left.”
The sudden break of silence startles you. Eyes wide, you turn to face Yoongi, who has slipped out of the balcony doors to join you. Even when you know you’re safe, your heart continues to beat out of your chest. Did Yoongi always look this good in the snow?
“Nah,” you whisper. You return to your previous position, leaning against the railing to focus back on the quiet snowstorm. “It was just a little too much for me. My social battery is practically dead now.”
Yoongi hums. The snow crunches under his shoes as he steps up next to you.
“I get it. But why are you out here? It’s snowing and you don’t have your coat.”
“It’s a lot quieter out here. Plus I just forgot to grab it.”
You know he knows that it’s not the complete truth. You had contemplated grabbing your coat, but you assured yourself that you wouldn’t be out here long enough for you to begin to need it. Yoongi doesn’t respond. Before you can look to see what he is doing, something warm and soft is draped over your shoulders. You turn to see Yoongi, standing beside you with a concerned look on his face, and only in his own ugly Christmas sweater.
“But-” you begin to protest. Yoongi cuts you off, throwing a smile in your direction.
“I’ll be fine.”
You know he won’t hear you out once he settles into the same position you have been in. He watches the snow fall for a moment, looking back at you when you don’t join him. He pulls at your arm gently. With a small sigh, you step towards the railing again, leaning against it with him. You can feel his body heat as you settle close enough for your arms to press against each other.
This is nice, you think. For a while, you forget that you are at a party. Being beside your best friend—and first love—while the fluffy puffs of snow fall around you is comforting. It’s the little moments like this that make your heart grow fonder for the boy you grew up with. Even during your movie nights, the two of you are cuddled up, a blanket thrown over the top of you.
Life with Yoongi is easy. Neither of you hold expectations for the other when it comes to your friendship. Like two pieces of a puzzle, you complete each other, stronger in the areas that the other is not. It’s how it has been since you got to know Yoongi. Sure, there have been times where you’ve questioned your friendship, and times that you wish you had never met, but those moments only made your relationship stronger. And you thank all of your lucky stars that he has been the one steady thing in your life.
Breaking you from your thoughts, Yoongi nudges your arm with his. Your eyes shift from the yard to his dark friendly eyes.
“I think they’re doing the white elephant soon,” he mutters. “Come join me?”
You hum, nodding your head. Yoongi pushes himself from the railing and dusts his sleeves off before holding out his hand for you to grab. He guides you back inside and back downstairs to become social again.
When you join your friends, none of them fail to notice your intertwined hands when Hoseok points out that you have returned. No one says anything about it, turning back to whatever game they were playing before you arrived. You’re grateful for that. But when you are pulled into a quick game of charades, you partially wish that you could go back to the moment—albeit short—on the balcony. No worries about how to keep the conversation alive, no people to entertain, just you, Yoongi, and the quiet storm.
It isn’t much longer that you play the white elephant game. It takes twice as long as it normally would when Taehyung and Jimin try to wrestle in the middle of the room for the mini waffle maker someone had brought, only for Jungkook to take it from right under their noses, forcing him to join in on the impromptu fight. After the game is over, you stay to chat for a little while longer to catch up with everyone. But when Yoongi is squeezing your hand, offering a questioning look and glimpsing towards the stairs, you know it’s time for you to go.
Yoongi stands and pulls you along with him. A few of your friends ask where you’re going once they notice him collecting your things.
“We’re gonna head out,” he responds.
“Oh, come on. Stay a little longer?” Tiffany whines. She’s been wanting to get you alone to ask you about your disappearance to the balcony for the past hour.
“Nah,” Namjoon whispers. Though, it’s loud enough for you to hear clearly. “Let the lovebirds go. They’ve probably got plans, if you know what I mean.”
Ignoring the comment, you follow Yoongi as he heads up the stairs, throwing goodbyes to everyone and thanking Jimin for hosting the party this year.
“Where’s the sugar?”
You open up every cabinet you can think of. Does he move it every time he uses it? Weren’t we just using it to make the cookies?
“Where it always is?” Yoongi calls out from his seat at the dining table.
Another one of your traditions is to make and design cookies a few days before Christmas. At first, it started as something you’d do because you wanted to make cookies for Santa. But as you grew older, it became something you’d do for fun. You and Yoongi always made it a goal to see who could come up with the best designs—you may be biased, but you’re sure you’ve won every year.
“And where is that?”
“I thought you knew your way around my kitchen already,” Yoongi laughs. He turns his head towards you, watching as you continuously open and close each cabinet door. “Seeing how I always catch you in here in the middle of the night.”
You pause. He knows about your late night snack adventures in his kitchen?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you insist.
Yoongi only laughs more at your tone.
“Try the cabinet over the stove.”
True to his word, the moment you open the cabinet, your eyes spot the bag of sugar. You’re sure you looked in this one several times. Pulling down the sugar, you smile.
“You’re a genius,” you call out over your shoulder.
“Just get over here.”
Yoongi takes the sugar from your hands. He digs the measuring cup into the bag, scooping up the right amount of sugar for the icing, plopping it into the mixing bowl with every other ingredient and continues to mix it all together. Before he can separate the icing into containers for the different colors you are making, you take your finger and dip it into the icing. Thankfully Yoongi doesn’t notice your sneaky swipe. You raise your finger towards his cheek, a sly smile on your face. His face morphs into a look of surprise when the icing meets his skin as he turns towards you. You let out a loud laugh. You try to clean it off his face, but Yoongi only retaliates, taking a small bit of the icing and wiping it on the tip of your nose. For a moment, you stand in shock, staring at Yoongi as he laughs instead. But the surprise melts into happiness when you see the fond look he gives you as he takes the dollop of icing off his cheek and your nose.
“Let’s save the decorating for the cookies, shall we?”
You leave each other to decorate your set of cookies. It’s hard not to look at what Yoongi is doing when he is sitting beside you. Every once in a while he purposefully reaches over your hands as you work on placing candies in the icing, trying to mess you up. You do the same to him, successfully messing him up twice.
“What are you making?” You ask, peaking over his arm to see his cookies.
Yoongi shifts slightly, blocking your view.
“You’ll see.”
He reaches for a couple red sixlets, leaning in close to the table to place them on the cookie. With a smile, he leans back, turning to you and holding up the finished cookie for you to see.
“Mistletoe?”
“Uh huh,” he hums. Your brows furrow slightly as he begins to raise it above your head. “Oh and would you look at that. We seem to have been caught underneath it.”
Warmth creeps up the back of your neck, as you realise what he means. You scoff, trying to evade the sudden rush of feelings. You hope that he can’t hear your heart pounding against your chest. Yoongi carefully leans in closer, and you blurt out the first thing you can think of.
“Mistletoe is only allowed for the holiday season.”
“It is the holiday season,” he chuckles.
Your eyes drift away from his gaze. Why did I say that?
“Oh…then kiss away.”
Yoongi pushes closer, and your eyes flutter closed. You can feel the brush of his lips against yours, making you smile. There are no fireworks or explosions of color and feelings as the movies show. Instead, his kiss is comforting. It’s something you hope you can experience for the rest of your life. Neither one of you makes an effort to move. Even the gentle press of his lips against yours is enough to satisfy you.
As you pull away, feeling the need to take a deep breath, you look into Yoongi’s eyes. They shine bright, sparkling slightly under the kitchen light. He gives you a warm smile.
“I’ve liked you ever since you spilled your juice on me when we were eight.”
You let out a quiet giggle. What an odd way to start a conversation after kissing the person you’ve known for most of your life. You remember that day though. It was the first day of third grade, and you were a little too excited for lunch. You had tripped over another kid’s foot, landing on the bench beside eight-year-old Yoongi, squeezing the juice box in your hand and spilling it all over his favorite shirt. It was safe to say you didn’t get your recess time because of him once he yelled at you.
“You took my crayons cause you were mad about that though,” you bite back. “Which I never got back by the way.”
Yoongi chuckles. His hand reaches up to cup your cheek, running his thumb over your skin.
“That's besides the point. The point is, I've liked you for a long time.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you wonder.
“I was waiting to see if you were going to do something about it.”
His other hand searches for yours, grasping onto it.
“What do you mean?”
Yoongi laughs slightly at your confused stare. He squeezes your hand and tilts his head in amusement.
“You’re not exactly subtle.”
“Oh,” you breathe out.
“But that doesn’t matter now,” he continues. “Because now, I can show you how much you really mean to me and catch up on all of the time we’ve missed.”
Yoongi leans in close again, his lips ghosting over yours. Your free hand finds its place on his chest, grasping slightly at the dark shirt he’s wearing. You glance over at the messy table, icing and rogue candies scattered about the tabletop. A smirk grows on your lips at the thoughts running through your mind and your eyes meet Yoongi’s again. You press your lips against his in a chaste kiss.
“I think the cookies can wait to be decorated,” you mutter.
pairing: hoseok x reader
genre: friends to lovers, fluff, minimal angst
rating: sfw, just some improper thoughts
warnings: i think there’s some cursing and an absurd amount of simping for hobi.
word count: 4.4k
summary: you think about hoseok a lot. especially when it snows.
This is for @btswritingcafe secret santa event.
a/n1: thank you so much to @kkulfm. without you this story wouldn’t be what it is. thank you for asking all the right questions. And thank you so much to @calixwrites for beta-reading and making this so much better, i appreciate you a lot!
a/n2: hi @sunshinejunghoseokie ! it’s me, your secret santa, candy cane! I hope you like it! I included three of your prompts, they are bolded.
a/n3: yes, this is my second hobi-christmas fic.
masterlist // ao3
read more about this couple in: when it rains
“It’s almost Christmas, and temperatures are sinking. Get yourself a warm coat and a hot drink. My grandma even tells me that it’ll snow, and my grandma is never wrong. So get yourself that one special person, because you know what they say. They say to watch snow falling with someone is a sign of love….and I couldn’t agree more. This is Kim Taehyung signing off. Till next time on the Kim-Files when Kim Namjoon will probably tell you how mint chocolate lattes are a crime against humanity. Stay warm and Merry Christmas. I’ll see you off with Eartha Kitt’s Santa Baby.”
The song starts playing softly, as you watch the landscape rush by. With every passing second the train brings you closer and closer to home and you can’t help the smile that grows on your face listening to your favourite local radio show.
Snow. It might snow for Christmas. The thought alone makes you giddy with joy.
Because sometimes when you think about snow, you think about Hoseok.
Well, you think about Hoseok a lot, to be fair.
But especially when you think about snow. You think about the crappy haiku he had wordlessly pressed into your hand on your last day of school before Christmas break when you were both 13. (It had — for once — snowed around Christmas, which was a once in a century occurrence, or so your mother had told you.)
It had been written on a crumpled piece of paper, torn out from his notebook, already frayed at the edges. You had just confessed that you didn’t have a gift for him this year, because you had been busy with whatever trivial matters had occupied you as a thirteen-year-old kid. You almost teared up a little bit, because the day before he had given you a slightly unshapely and lumpy scarf that he had knit himself in all your favourite colours and you didn’t have anything for him.
But instead of being angry or sad, he handed you that crumpled piece of paper with a slight blush on his cheeks.
snow falls on the ground.
the only gift i ever
wanted was you-hou.
It’s a really crappy haiku, it barely adheres to the rules you had learned at school that year, but to you it was — still is — the most beautiful poem ever written.
Back then, it had meant the world to you and it still does to this day. You keep it stored safely in the little pouch on the last page of your planner and transfer it at the end of the year to the next one. It’s your good luck charm.
You’re sure Hoseok has forgotten about it, it might have just been something he had scribbled down to make you feel a little bit less like a terrible friend, but to you it meant that you had a person that was in your corner whatever the world might throw at you, that you had a true best friend.
It’s already dark when you finally arrive in your hometown and through the windows of your taxi you see familiar buildings, familiar street names, familiar corners, all decorated with colourful Christmas lights. You almost ask the driver to stop at the house where Hoseok’s grandparents live for a cup of tea and a few stories about your former best friend - but you keep yourself from doing so, because you realise they might not even be in town. Like every Christmas for the last ten years, the Jungs are probably spending Christmas with their daughter, her husband and Hoseok on the other side of the country.
As your taxi rounds another corner, a memory forces its way into the forefront of your mind.
This is the street where your heart broke at 16. This is the street where two lanky teenagers were clinging to each other in a tight hug, not willing to let go just yet.
This is the street where two pairs of parents tried to tell you that this was not the end of the world while the two of you felt it shatter beneath your feet.
“I’m home,” you shout into the hallway and let your bag fall down.
“Welcome home, sweetheart,” your mother’s voice comes from the kitchen, and you sigh at the sweet waft of cinnamon and sugar that fills your nostrils. No matter how stressful the journey home might be, as soon as you cross the threshold, you can let your guard down and just be for a bit. You’re home.
From the living room you can hear your sister and father scream at each other — probably over Mario Kart — and you’re happy. You’re home.
And you think about Hoseok again. Because, let’s be honest for a second. You really do think about Hoseok a lot. Maybe you’re always and constantly thinking about Hoseok. You wonder what he’s doing with his life? Is he happy? Does he think about you from time to time? Does he miss you sometimes?
Because you do. You miss him. You miss your best friend. You miss Hoseok all the time. Mostly the feeling is pressed against a far corner of your mind not bothering you too much while you go about your daily life.
But sometimes, especially when you’re home, the feeling becomes stronger. Because every corner, every street lamp reminds you of him.
There’s the sidewalk where the two of you spent hours sitting on the asphalt drawing with the new crayons you had gotten for your birthday. There’s the little pond where you helped him learn to swim. There’s the playground where you fell off the swings and he carried you halfway through town because you couldn’t walk on your sprained ankle. There’s the cinema where you sneaked into a movie that you were both too young for and lied to your parents about it afterwards with burning ears.
Hoseok was your person, your best friend, and in a way you’re sure that he will always be — even though he hasn’t been in your life for a while.
Up in your childhood bedroom, he’s still as present as if he’d never left your side.
Your gaze rests on the framed picture on your old desk. It’s the last picture that exists of the two of you. It must have been just a few months before the move, you look carefree and happy. He has you in a slight headlock and smiles brightly into the camera.
It’s the last picture of the two of you. You haven’t even seen him in person since he moved away, let alone captured it in a photo.
Your parents had told you back then that a move across the country wasn’t the end of the world, and wouldn’t have to mean the end of your friendship. You could write letters, they told you. You could talk on the phone, they told you, not too long though, because long distance phone calls are expensive.
But somehow the distance back then had seemed too much, and it had hurt too much to not see him, to not hug him, to not hear his laugh and not to smell his comforting smell. To not talk through the night about this and that and nothing and everything. Letters and later eMails just weren’t enough. Maybe it would have been different with all the technology that is around now, a good decade later. But back then, writing letters and trying to connect through phone calls when both of you were distracted by your separate lives — it ended up feeling like a chore.The contact gradually fizzled out, but the heartache stayed.
You might have only been 16 when you last saw him, but you were pretty sure that if something like soulmates existed, he would have been yours.
As you look around your childhood bedroom, your eyes fall onto another picture and you sigh. It’s the two of you, at age 7, making snow angels.
It’s the night before Christmas, and it might snow tonight. Can you make a wish on a snowflake? Because it would be to have Hoseok back at your side and never let him leave again.
“You made it!” Taehyung’s cheery voice greets you, as you enter the bar where your yearly class reunion — always on the evening before Christmas — takes place.
You give him a little wave and a thumbs up; you’ll have to congratulate him on finally achieving his dream of hosting his own radio show later. Taking off your scarf and coat, you take in the sights of the room and your heart clenches at all the familiar faces that you get to see way less than you would like to and waves of nostalgia hit you.
There’s little Namjoon who is not that little anymore, and you wonder if his job pays him well enough to buy new shirts every other week, because — boy, has he been working out.
There’s also Yoongi, who might not ever have cared the slightest bit about his grades at school, but has achieved everything he’s ever wanted none the less.
You hear Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh from across the room and you wish Hoseok was here, too. All you know is that he is apparently “doing well”, at least according to his grandparents when you stopped by last summer for a chat, some cookies and some crumbs of news about their grandchild. He grew up well — if you might say so — as far as you can tell from the pictures his grandma showed you with a proud smile on her face.
Usually just knowing he’s doing well is quenching your curiosity enough, but you’d give your left arm to see him again. To hear his laugh, to see him light up the whole room.
You chuckle at yourself. You might be so deep into your current spiral of missing him that you have started to have auditory hallucinations, because you could swear that you can hear his laugh join Jin’s at the far corner of the table. But why should he be here today when he hasn’t been in town for the holidays in years?
Before you can stop yourself, you follow the sound through the room. The person in front of you that had your view blocked sits down and you halt. Very abruptly.
Because there — across from Jin — he is. It’s him, it’s unmistakable Hoseok and your breath catches in your throat. You start blinking hectically as if your brain had short circuited.
He looks up, and you implode. You try to move your arm to wave, but you realize it’s not moving. You’re frozen in place
Your eyes meet, and his smile grows into the most beautiful thing you have ever seen and heat starts flooding your body. The feeling starts in your toes, a warm tingle, a silver gitter. It moves up and warms your ankles, your legs, your belly, your chest until it reaches your cheeks and without realizing your lips widen into a smile.
It’s Hoseok. Hoseok is here. Hobi is here. Your brain chants happily. And he’s our Hobi, our Hobi and and he’s here….and he’s beautiful!
It’s Hoseok, it feels like Hoseok, but...maybe time and distance and longing for your friend has done something to you, because you can’t remember your heart ever beating so hard and fast against your chest.
The sudden urge to fan yourself comes over you. The pictures in his grandparent’s house really did not do justice to the fine man he has become. His eyes are sparkling, he’s literally glowing, but you might be, too.
You’re so happy to see him, you might just pass out. But it seems you’re not the only one, he has gotten up and shoos Jimin away from the seat next to him, and waves you over.
You plop down next to him and turn to face him. Suddenly, it’s as if the volume has been turned down on the room around you, the cheerful chattering fading into nothing. It might seem cliché, and if you saw yourself, you’d roll your eyes at the stupid smile that is on your face. But you can’t bring yourself to care.
“Hi,” he says with a warm smile.
“Hi.” Your face will hurt tomorrow from the sheer amount of smiling, you’re sure of it.
“Hi,” he says again and smiles even wider.
“Hi,” you reply like an idiot, again. Laughter breaks from the both of you, and you nearly start crying instantly at the sound of your voices intermingling.
“Tell me everything. How have you been? It’s been too long. Why has it been so long?”
“Well for starters, I missed you. A lot.” There’s no need to lie, so you don’t.
It might have been forever since you breathed the same air, but some things don’t change. You don’t lie to your best friend. That’s a rule the two of you decided on and pledged your souls to when you were 11 (it might have been inspired by a silly lie about a dumpling that almost tore apart two of your classmates; then again, it might have been one of those rare moments of childhood insight that had more truth to it than you knew).
He laughs at your honesty, a warm comforting sound. Curiously, you study his face, as he takes a sip from his glass. You’re mesmerized. Has your best friend always been so absolutely stunning?
“I’ve missed you, too,” his voice, that same rich tone you remember, is tinged with a hint of regret. It breaks you out of the stupor you have fallen into. “Let’s not let ten years go by again, hm?”
You clink your glasses and cheer to that.
The evening is spent drinking, smiling, laughing, catching up, reminiscing and flipping off Jungkook who can’t stop bringing up things that you made him swear to never bring up again. (“Jungkook, I swear to Santa Claus, if you don’t stop, I’ll have Hoseok repeat the thing you made him promise never to repeat again!”)
The later the evening gets however, you find yourself wanting — needing — to ask questions you have skirted around. You find yourself wanting to know if he has a partner? A significant other? There’s no ring on his finger, but that doesn’t count for shit. Namjoon wears his ring on a chain around his neck. Yoongi’s wedding band looks like any other of the rings he wears constantly. Jungkook is so whipped that everyone from a mile away knows he’s married. Rings are no indication at all.
But a ring on his finger would look pretty good, you muse, watching him talk animatedly with Seokjin, gesturing the size of something with his hands. A ring would suit him very well. You imagine a thin gold band on this finger and how it would reflect the candle light in this dimly lit bar.
Your heart does a tiny jump.
Does he have someone in his life that he wants to put a ring on his finger? Does he have a significant other?
Your heart jumps again, a little more painful this time. Does he have a person in his life, who makes him smile his sunshine smile? Who receives his gentle but strong hugs? Who gets to hold his hand like you did when you were younger? Has he replaced you with someone else? You can't escape the questions that flood your mind, but are too afraid to ask them aloud.
Hoseok is still your best friend. If you’re still his, you don’t know.
But you still know him. You still know his warm eyes, his pretty smile, his infectious laugh. He’s still a walking, talking sound effect who gets scared way too easily. That’s the side of him you’re still familiar with. The side of him that feels safe.
But he also starts to feel a little unsafe tonight, a little dangerous, you realize, as your breath catches in your throat and your cheeks heat up.
Your gaze follows his fingers as he drags them slowly over his cold glass of beer, wiping off drops of condensation. You wonder how his hands would feel on your body.
Huh, you think, doing a mental double take, is this how you’re supposed to think about a friend?
Even at age 16 you had been aware that your friend Hoseok was a fine specimen of a human and being just friends didn’t mean you were blind.
But the feelings cursing through your body right now don’t feel entirely platonic. They feel like someone has spiked your friendship with a healthy dash of something.
Maybe it’s just a decade of separation, but you wonder if just a simple hug would be enough right now. If a normal conversation would be enough. Because you feel yourself wanting to get lost in his eyes and his smile, you want to know how his hair feels between your fingers, and how his lips feel against your throat.
Your eyes widen, and you suppress a cough, as a drop of liquid gets caught in your windpipe. Calm down, you tell yourself, don’t let these thoughts get the upper hand. Yes, Hoseok is a damn fine man — but he’s also your friend, your friend that you don’t want to scare away just when you’ve finally found him again, and fuck, has he caught you staring? Did he just say something?
As you refocus your energy to more socially appropriate thoughts, you see a soft smile play on Hoseok’s lips, as he turns his face away from you to answer Yoongi's question.
You’ll have to keep your thoughts to yourself, because you’re pretty sure that this is most definitely against the “I just reunited with my childhood best friend”-protocol. You’re finally back in the same room with him, you don’t want to scare him away by telling him that you might — potentially — would kinda like — to — maybe — jump his bones — respectfully.
That would probably be a terrible move, right? He’ll want — hopefully — to be your friend again. Just because you’re now realizing that you might want more than that doesn’t mean you have the right to spring that on him.
You’re staring, again. He waves his hand in front of your face and you miss his fond smile, as you shake your head to get back to the present.
As the evening goes on, people start to leave one by one. Some have work in the morning, some have to prepare the living room for the kids, some are tired from their long work week.
When the bartender rings the little bell above the counter to call the last round, you and Hoseok look up and realize you’re the only customers left in the bar. Still, you’re not ready for the night to end, especially if its end means potentially letting Hoseok out of your sight again
You just got him back into your life, who knows when you’ll see him again. And that’s something you don’t want to find out. Not after all the thoughts that have run a marathon in your mind tonight.
Laughter follows you in white puffy clouds on your walk home from the bar through your childhood neighbourhood. It has become cold and the night sky is speckled with stars and clear, with just a few clouds here and there. The air smells crisp and clear and cold — like snow.
“You know,” Hoseok stops walking and looks up into the sky. “I had a major crush on you back when we were kids.”
You stop in your tracks, a few steps ahead of him, and turn around. “What?” You can’t hide the surprise in your question. “Why did I not know this? You never told me?”
“You remember that haiku?” he asks and you frown.
“Yes?” Of course you remember that haiku.
“That was me confessing.”
Your eyes widen comically before you close them and hope he can’t see the shock painted on your face.
Oh. Shit. There goes your hope. He’s confessing that he had — past tense — feelings for you. You missed your chance. By a decade. And caused your favourite person pain. Well done.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it at that time. It must have hurt,” you apologize in a small voice.
He walks up to you, and throws his arms around you in a hug, and again, he’s the one comforting you. And you’re the one again who has been insensitive to his feelings.
You press your lips together and bite your lip.
“No, you don’t get to apologize for that. We were just kids back then, and barely knew what our hearts were for yet. I don’t blame you for not realizing.”
“Still, it must have hurt. I’m sorry, I hurt you.”
He whispers your name, and you sigh at his gentle voice. “You dummy, the only thing that hurt me was having to leave you.” Hoseok pats your back. “Come on, let’s go. It’s cold. Let’s get you home.” You step out of his embrace and look at him in wonder. Just one evening, and the open book that you once considered Hoseok to be, has turned into a riddle that you itch to solve.
You start walking again, but the air has somehow changed. It’s not just that it has gotten even colder. The air might be freezing, but still you’re happy that you didn’t wear any gloves. Because every other step your hand touches his, and warmth floods your body.
Suddenly, though, it’s not just every other step that your hands touch. His hand wraps itself around yours, and your fingers intertwine. The corner of your lips curve up, and even if this is just him, who has always been a very physical person, being happy about seeing you again, you’ll happily take it.
You arrive at the intersection where your paths should diverge. You’d have to go straight ahead to your parents’ house, he would have to take a left to walk to his grandparents’. But for now you both just stop walking altogether. Your hands are still joined, and neither makes a move to change that.
While you debate your next words, how to say goodnight, but not goodbye, it starts snowing. Little white flakes descend, and you look around in wonder while a delighted little squeak leaves Hoseok’s mouth.
The first snow undoubtedly holds a certain kind of magic, you think, as you watch the snowflakes glide through the air and towards the ground. You hold your free hand out and catch one in your palm. As the crystalline structure slowly melts into water, you realise something.
This is your moment, and if you miss it, if you miss your opportunity to open your mouth and your heart, it’ll melt away like the snowflake and Hoseok will disappear from your life just like that.
You take a deep breath and decide to let your gut lead and your guard down.
“I don’t want to let go of your hand yet. To be completely honest, I’m not sure if I ever want to stop holding your hand.”
Hoseok chuckles, as if you had just said the most ridiculous thing. “If it was up to me, you’d never stop holding it. Hell, I’ve wanted you to hold it for a long time.”
You look up from where your hands are joined. “What?”
His eyes are warm, and you want to drown in them. “But I think it’s time to confess something else. I’ve been lying to you. I should have told you this earlier — this is not fair to you.”
You suck in a breath. Now he’s going to tell you, he’s married with three kids. This was too good to be true. Hoseok opens his mouth and you brace for impact. You try to pull your hand away, but he holds it tight in his. “I didn’t only crush on you back then. I think I’m still in love with you now, or right on track falling back in love with you. If I am completely honest…I think maybe I haven’t stopped being in love with you since you pretended to fall flat on your ass on the ice skating rink to hide my abysmal un-talent in front of our class.”
“Hoseok! That was when we were…” You calculate in your head. “That was when we were 12?” Your voice rises in question.
“I know, it’s pathetic,” he lets out a dramatic sigh. “I mean, that was the year you decided you’d marry Prince Harry and full out wrote your wedding vows. I didn’t have a chance back then.”
“And you think this would be the time to bring that up?” You chuckle a little manically before you catch yourself, and focus back on his face in wonder. “Hoseok, what are you saying?”
He moves a little closer to you, trapping your intertwined hands between your bodies. Snow keeps falling on the ground, on the trees and on the cars at the side of the street. The streetlamp shines upon you, and the little icy crystals glitter around you.
“I’m saying, I’m in love with you. Not with you from ten years ago, or the mirage that I have been dreaming up since then. I’m in love with you. Now. Today. This Christmas.” You feel a lump grow in the back of your throat. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time, and I don’t want to keep this to myself anymore.” You swallow. “Back then we didn’t get a chance, we didn’t have a chance for a long time. But I wonder if we could get one now.” A tear crosses your waterline. “What do you say?” Hoseok raises his hand to your face and gently wipes the tear away, before he grabs your hand again. “Do we give ourselves this chance?”
Wordlessly you nod and pull on his hands to get him closer. Hoseok moves more than willingly and while you would like to say that your lips meet in a flurry of passion in a hungry kiss, they don’t. Your noses meet in a little bonk and the first touch of your lips isn’t the picture perfect kiss that they show in movies.
Your first kiss is two people smiling against each other’s lips.
Thank you for reading. You’ll meet these two again in “when it rains (it pours)”
pairing: seokjin x reader
title: love language
rating: sfw
genre: coworker, office FLUFF, comfort, caffeination
Wordcount: 2.3k
summary: you wonder if he, who always takes care of everyone, has someone to take care of him. or if maybe it could be you. you’d like that.
warnings: none, i think. (1 mention of office harassment) Maybe this though: it’s not beta-ed.
a/n: This has been in my WIP pile for...let’s say pretty long. It was supposed to be my first fic for our world wide handsome Jin. But, today is a wonderful day to post this, isn’t it? I hope you enjoy!
masterlist // ao3
love language
“Good Morning, ___”
You hold up your coffee mug in greeting and offer a tired smile, as you pass Hoseok, the receptionist, who is entirely too chirpy for this time of day, you decide.
It’s way before your usual arrival time, but a full schedule of meetings and oversea calls mean you have to come in earlier than you would like to, if you want to stay on top of your shit. And on top of your shit you would like to stay.
Not staying on top of your shit would mean getting on your superior’s shit list, and you would very much like to avoid that for now.
As you walk along the hallway leading up to your office, you take another big sip of coffee and ponder the question whether you should take a right and go to the office kitchen for a refill, or if the risk of running into Mr. Bang is too high.
It’s not that you actively want to avoid your boss. But meeting him in the hallway or passing the open door to his office usually results in your workload tripling, and -- nope. Not today.
Although your step falters for a second and you almost do take a turn to the right, when you realize that your mug is nearly empty.
Before you have to walk by your boss’ office door though, your salvation in the form of your most handsome and most favourite colleague comes walking towards you, taking big steps and avoiding your superior’s line of sight skillfully.
“If it isn’t my favourite co-worker!” He offers you a blinding smile and a steaming mug of pitch black coffee, as he arrives in front of you.
“Kim Seokjin, you’re a godsend!” You take the mug from him, falling in step with him, as he walks towards your office with you. “How did you know, I was already here?”
“Oh! I asked the office gossip--” “Hoseok,” you both say in unison, before Seokjin continues. “--to let me know when you came in. I saw that you had an early call with Paris today, and so I thought that--” He holds up one finger, “--you could use some additional caffeine and--” he adds a second finger “--I’d offer my services, since I worked on the previous project with Madame Fleury, and might be able to provide some insider information.”
He wriggles his eyebrows and now it’s your turn to grin back at him.There’s definitely more than one reason why Kim Seokjin is your favourite co-worker -- not only because he supplies you with coffee. And you like to think that you also make the TOP3 of his favourite co-workers. You’re a good team that just works well together, even though you don’t get to as much as you would like. Your areas just don’t have much overlap. You might work on the same project, but oftentimes not together.
“Thank you, Seokjin. Seriously. I think. I've got this one, but I’ll give you a call, if there’s anything I need.”
“Be sure to do so. But I don’t have a smidgen of doubt that you will blow them away with your proposal! Fighting”
He winks at you and gives you a thumb’s up, as he makes his way back to his office across the kitchen.
And that’s Kim Seokjin for you. You wouldn’t consider him a friend-friend, but you are very thankful for his presence in this office, in your work life. Again, it’s not that your office is a terrible place, you enjoy what you’re doing enough, and you’re happy you get to work in a company that tries to make the world a bit better and not worse. It just wouldn’t be as great without Kim Seokjin.
***
With your empty travel mug in one hand and the one Seokjin gave you on the other, you enter your office and busy yourself getting ready for your day. Fresh coffee on one side of the desk, notes and pens on the other, you fire up the computer and groan at the 143 unread emails. One would think, you hadn’t been in the office for a week and not a mere 10 hours.
When the number of unread emails has finally dwindled down to below 100 and your meeting with Madame Fleury has ended successfully, it’s almost time for lunch and the intern Jeon Jungkook peeks into your office.
“Are you hungry? A few of us are ordering in.”
“Not today, thank you, though.” You turn back to your screen, but not before shooting the young man a thankful smile that he returns. You’re glad to see him finally making eye contact. When he had started out, he had been too shy to even open his mouth in your weekly team meetings, and now he’s here, making eye contact and smiling brightly.
You can hear his voice resounding through the hallway and grin. Of course it was Seokjin who had sent him.
“Hyung, she’s not hungry.”
“Yah, you brat, I bet you didn’t really ask her.”
There’s a small commotion, and even sitting in your office, you’re sure the older one is trying to wrestle the younger boy into a headlock with a fond look in his eyes.
While Kim Seokjin is your favourite co-worker, you’re aware that you’re not friends. He already has a tight knit group of friends in the office that you don’t really belong to. Which is okay, you usually try to separate your work life from your private life. But in this case, you wouldn’t mind making an exception.
In the past few months this has led to you looking his way more often than a person who just wants to be a co-worker would. He doesn’t carry his nickname worldwide handsome for nothing, which he likes to remind everyone of from time to time. And you’re an adult, you can admit that he’s not wrong about that.
But that’s not what draws you towards him. You’re not quite that shallow. Kim Seokjin is a person you admire. He utterly fascinates you. His selflessness. His love that he gives so freely to the people around him, without ever asking for anything in return.
Not just once you have seen him snatching a glass of water away, before Namjoon from accounting swooshes it off the table while turning around to demonstrate something on the whiteboard or on a computer.
Kim Seokjin does things without asking. He feeds Jimin, when the boy forgets that getting ahead on a project is not a valid reason for skipping lunch.
Kim Seokjin lets management rain their anger and criticism on himself even if he’s not at fault, because he said he’s the most senior of the team and he -- for some reason unknown to you -- is convinced that he’s the one best equipped to take it.
Kim Seokjin comes into work with a bruised lip because he decided that he should be the one to stand up for Mina and Nayeon, when the creep from the 7th floor thought that wearing a cute skirt was an invitation.
Kim Seokjin, who brings you a coffee, puts a smile onto your face, and expects nothing in return.
***
Impatiently you watch the coffee maker do its work. Drop by drop the liquid drips through the filter, and you want to scream. It’s nearing 8 pm and you don’t want to be here anymore. But, alas, the report won’t write itself, and you do want it -- no, need it -- to be finished. One more day on this and you’ll be ready to kill a man. Or down a bottle of Tequila. Or both.
But more than your own need to get it off your “To Do” list, it also needs to be in the clients’ inbox by 8 am. So it’s not really up to you.
As you wait for your survival elyxir, you hear voices rumbling in the hallway. Moving closer to the door, you peek around the corner and see Seokjin with a bright smile on his face and his arm around another man that you recognize as Namjoon with glasses askew on his nose and absolute exhaustion dripping off of him.
“Go home, Kim.” Seokjin grabs Namjoon’s coat from the hanger and places it into the younger man’s hands. “Like I said, the deadline has been moved, so no need to finish it tonight.” Gently he ushers the tired man out of the door. “Go home, get some sleep and finish it tomorrow with a fresh brain.”
Namjoon sends a last thankful smile to Seokjin, before he enters the elevator. The doors close behind him, and you frown.
The deadline of the files Namjoon has been working on has been moved? It’s the same project you’re working on, so why has no one told you? Or maybe… The lines on your forehead get deeper. He wouldn’t….
You glance back at Seokjin, who cracks his neck once, twice, sighs and slumps back to his desk, the spring in his step and his bright smile gone. He opens Namjoon’s files, your client’s logo clearly recognizable even from far, and you purse your lips. He’s doing it again. Taking up more than his share. You feel a strange warmth creep up your belly, you’re not sure if it’s affection or irritation or both.
The coffee maker’s beeping forces your attention back to it. You grab two mugs from the cupboard and fill them with the bitter liquid -- one up to the top, the other exactly to two thirds with enough space for milk and two teaspoons of brown sugar.
***
Finally. With a groan, you lift your arms above your head and moan silently at the stretch in your shoulders. Gently you roll your head in a circle, releasing the tension in your neck from sitting too long in front of a computer.
Signed, sealed, Mic dropped. Or something like that. It’s a fine report you just sent off, maybe one of your best. A quick glance at your phone makes you groan again. Almost midnight. High time to get out of here.
The hallways are dark and quiet, but there is still light coming out of Namjoon’s and Seokjin’s shared office across the kitchen. He must have forgotten when he left, you think, but when you enter the office to turn it off, you see his slumped figure over the desk.
“Oh, Jin,” you whisper quietly, the unfamiliar nickname tickling something inside you. What are you doing, why are you still here, why are you doing this, you wonderful, handsome, stupid, idiotic man. Who is taking care of you? Who’s sending you home early?
He, the one who always takes care of everyone, the one who makes sure that everyone else eats enough, goes home at a reasonable hour, stays hydrated, and feels safe to speak their mind.
He is the one sleeping on an uncomfortable office chair now, head cushioned on his arms in front of a flimmering monitor.
Silently you add an offer to your hushed whisper, maybe let me, let me take care of you. You think you would like that. A mental image of you, with his hand in yours, appears in your mind.
You walk up behind him and touch his shoulder lightly. As wide as they are, he shouldn’t have to use them to carry all the weight alone. Your hand stays a little longer, a gentle caress rather than a tap, to wake him up.
“Come on, Jin.” The nickname slides off your tongue again.”Wake up, sleepyhead, let’s go home.”
“Hey____,” he murmurs, voice laden with sleep, eyes bleary and barely open. “You wanna take me home? Isn’t that a bit quick? Are you hitting on me? Is this your way of flirting?”
He still looks half asleep, but when his words catch up with his brain, he has the decency to at least look kind of self conscious about what he just said.
You look him straight into the eye and counter with a deadpan voice, because two can play this game.
“Yes, actually. It is.” It doesn’t make much of a difference now, you fathom. Because you have been flirting with him. And you’re trying to take him home.
No, not that way. For now at least. You would probably fall asleep on him in a minute, and from the looks of it, he wouldn’t fare that much better. And you know you could both do better than that. You know you’d be great together.
“Come on, old man. Let’s go home.”
That wakes him up. “Hey! You’re mean.” He pouts while getting up and stretching his joints, wincing at the crack in his neck. “I’ll have you know, I was elected….”
“...the most handsome in all of the lands, I know,” you interrupt him. “Have you sent off the files yet?”
He looks away, a bit sheepish and mumbles something incoherent under this breath. You look at him in question. “What was that?”
He sighs defeated, as if he knows you won’t like what he says next.
“I sent it off two hours ago.”
“Wait, you did what?” Your eyes widen. “But then...why are you still here?”
His ears turn a few shades darker, you’re sure that they’d be burning if you touched them.
“I was waiting for you to finish work.” Seokjin focuses his gaze on the potted plant in the far corner of the room and clears his throat, before the next sentence flows out of his mouth in a flurry. “I didn’t want you to stay here alone, in case you fell asleep. I wanted to make sure that you could finish your report… so I finished Namjoon’s calculation and looked over Jungkook’s presentation.” His ears turn even darker. “And then I fell asleep.”
“You’re an idiot, you know that, don’t you?” Exasperated, you look at the soft smile that spreads wide over his face.
“But...I’m your idiot, right?”
“Let’s go home.” You decide this is neither the time nor the place to reward him for overworking himself.
“Yours or mine?” The cheeky grin returns.
“Stop being cute, Kim. We both know yours has a better coffee maker. And I have a meeting at 8.” You hold out your hand.
“Let’s go”.
***
Ⓒaugustbutwinter 2021 (Please don’t repost. If you like it, reblog it, leave a heart, drop me an ask or a message. I’d love to hear from you!)
