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Countermelody (M) | 04: Modulation

Countermelody | Masterpost

Word Count: 23,006 (yikes setting myself up for disaster) | read on ao3

Rating: 18+ / Explicit / Mature

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader

Playlist: Seeing as this is a fic about music and all 😏

Summary

This new city has already invigorated your tired bones and shy heart. The people here seem kind and exciting. All sorts of interesting silhouettes are always shuffling about, and you write little stories for each person who passes you by. Even the stationery shop next door is warm and inviting, and you’re grateful that Mr. Kang offers you the manager job on the spot. But you get a funny feeling about things when he shows you the boxes in the back, the ones marked with red tape and the name MIN YOONGI scribbled on top. You wonder what makes this customer particularly special. You don’t know that the process of finding out will make you question why you ever moved here in the first place.

Chapter Excerpt

It’s a small, nondescript restaurant. It’s got a reputation for being swanky and expensive, but the actual restaurant itself doesn’t really have an identity. It’s the kind of place that has something for everybody, though Unnie, and certainly Jin, aren’t really picky eaters. You just want a neutral ground to make sure that things go well.

You’re tired of things not going well.

It’s also kind of a nondescript day, neither sunny, nor cloudy. Not freezing, but not exactly sweltering either. You wouldn’t have been able to tell if you had left your apartment had you not seen the slight change in your surroundings, moving from one kind of exposed brick to a different kind of exposed brick.

Jungkook chats to try and occupy your mind, but you’re feeling restless. Uneasy. Your feet are itchy.

You feel like you want to run.

Content Warnings: Soft and hard smut, soft public sex (idk how these work am I even using the right terms), oral sex, fingering, penetrative sex

Taglist 💜: permanent @purpleheartsfortae @btseditsworld @greezenini @missbickerbocker | countermelody @adventuresinwonderlust @min-yus @dearbambideer (taglist open, feel free to add yourself here!)

Special Shoutout: Chapter 04 mood board and title art by the fantastic @purplehearts1996! Thanks for another perfect mood board, and going the extra mile to tweak it when I changed literally one of the only pieces of information I gave you to go off of lol. It’s been so fun to get to have these reveals! Thank you so so much for sharing with me!

04: Modulation

The Antiques Store Guy and Candle Shop Lady continue to argue, not knowing that they now have a total of four audience members: you, Jungkook, Mr. Kang, and Yoongi.

You’re all draped across the counter, passing a gigantic bowl of chips and guacamole back and forth, gazing unabashedly at the storm of an argument that’s going on in the candle shop, the Antiques Store Guy continually gesturing over to the wall that separates their businesses.

“Why’s he so upset?” Yoongi asks, leaning back against the counter, his mouth full of guacamole.

“I think he’s going under,” Jungkook muses. He’s sitting on the counter, just beside Yoongi, swinging his legs as he watches. “He hasn’t had many customers, and he’s seemed pretty stressed out about it lately. I dropped an inventory delivery off to him the other day, and I noticed that the ones I had dropped off for the past couple of weeks were still boxed up.”

Yoongi hands the guacamole over to Jungkook without looking, their eyes still glued to the storefront. Leaning next to the register, you smirk as you observe them. No flippant comments. No passive-aggressive jabs. It’s been a blissful time with Yoongi, and one of the standouts is the feeling that your two worlds are starting to coalesce.

You honestly don’t think you could be happier.

Suddenly, the Antiques Store Guy starts pointing in an accusatory way at the Candle Shop Lady, and she starts to lose her cool again. She picks up a large candle and moves to throw it at his head, her face red and screaming. But he turns his back and waves her off dismissively as he stomps out of her store and back in the direction towards his, shoving his hands angrily into his pockets and taking a walk down the block.

“Good call,” Mr. Kang reflects. “You don’t wanna be around Laverne when she’s in one of her killer moods.”

You turn to Jungkook, but his eyes are already on you, his hand holding his chip just by his lips. Killer? he mouths. You shrug nervously. He makes a face and slowly eats the chip, crunching it loudly, before turning slowly back to the storefront.

“How long has it been like this?” Yoongi asks.

“Business for him doesn’t usually go well in the winter,” Mr. Kang replies, leaning on the counter next to you. “People save their antique shopping for the warmer months. But he hasn’t really had many customers for a while now.”

“Well, he’s also been at her store nearly every day, with the CLOSED sign on his door,” Jungkook says, hopping down from his seat on the counter and zipping up his jacket. “Couldn’t he be doing more to drum up some buyers?”

“She does seem to be a bit of a distraction,” you agree. “Don’t really know how they’ll sort it out.”

Yoongi frowns. “Hmm.” He looks over to you and smiles. “Well. I guess I’ll have to keep swinging by to find out.”

You grin. “Guess so.”

You lean forward on the counter and pucker your lips slightly. Yoongi smirks, seeming put upon, but he leans back so you can kiss his cheek.

Jungkook scrunches up his face in disgust as he puts on his mittens. “That’s my cue. Goodnight, everybody!”

Laughing, you all greet him for the evening, as he picks up the big bowl of guacamole and wraps his arm around it, holding it snugly to his chest. You giggle as you watch him shuffle out the door, adorably and happily continuing to eat chips and dip as he walks home. And you smirk to yourself again when he disappears from sight, and Yoongi doesn’t make some kind of sarcastic quip, choosing instead to smile fondly as Jungkook goes.

“You both should get going, too,” Mr. Kang replies, sending you a fond smile of his own. “It’s getting dark.”

You walk over to the back corner to start gathering your things and bundling up as Yoongi remembers something.

“Actually, mind if I get this before you close up?” he asks you, holding up a box of your best micro-point, rollerball pens.

You smile as you pop back up and rush to slip your arms through your jacket, nearly tripping over your own feet to get back to Yoongi.

Yoongi shoots you an apologetic look before Mr. Kang grabs hold of the box and says, “Oh, I’ve got it, Boss,” with a grin.

“Then I’ll lock up and do the gate,” you say, zipping up your jacket. “Thanks, Mr. Kang.”

He smiles at you. “No problem at all.”

Yoongi places exact change on the counter, right next to the register, and Mr. Kang rings him up. “Love these felt pens,” Mr. Kang reflects, bagging up the box and handing it to Yoongi. “They write so well. And the ink is so bold.”

You smile warmly as you watch Yoongi tell Mr. Kang thanks, taking a pause to shake his hand and make him chuckle.

Yoongi holds your guitar case as you lock up. You look over at him and take in the sight of him just standing there, unbothered, even comfortable, just watching cars drive by. He doesn’t even really look like he’s waiting on you. He’s just there. And there’s something so touching about someone just being there for you.

“I like this, you picking me up from work,” you remark, putting the keys in your coat pocket and reaching for your guitar case.

“Me too,” Yoongi agrees. Instead of handing the guitar case over to you, he takes your outstretched hand in his, and your heart fills. “It feels so domestic,” he says, as he runs his thumb over yours.

You laugh, but you recognize that for the past week, you’ve practically lived together, joined at the hip except for the hours that you work at Mr. Kang’s store. Your days have been starting with happy morning kisses, punctuated throughout with stolen ones, and ending with goodnights that are admittedly more intense and active at first, but inevitably sink into that soft, quiet space where the two of you can really sing.

You approach one of the many convenience stores on your route, and Yoongi asks, “Mind if I buy some coffee?”

Smiling, you shake your head, and you take your guitar case back momentarily as you follow him into the convenience store and watch him pick out four coffees from the fridge in the back.

“Iced coffees?” you ask, eyes widening as you follow him back to the register. “But it’s freezing!”

“Even better,” Yoongi says, reaching for his wallet in his back pocket and giving the cashier a bill. “They’ll stay cold.”

Yoongi places a larger bill on the counter, and the cashier makes change. You wouldn’t think twice about it, except that every time you’ve rung him up at Mr. Kang’s store, Yoongi has always had exact change. It’s jarring to see Yoongi taking money back.

“Thanks,” Yoongi says, as he shoves the largest bill into his wallet, and puts the smaller bills and coins in the tip jar before the two of you walk outside to the curb.

He holds the coffees out to you and looks at you to see if you want yours now, but you shake your head. He swings his backpack to his front and shoves three of the iced coffees inside. He opens one, takes a couple of swigs, and then puts it away with the others. Then, he takes your guitar case back from you, your hands re-intertwining.

You smile and shoot him a curious look.

Yoongi furrows his brow. “What? The guacamole’s a little spicy.”

“That’s the first time I’ve seen you break a bill,” you say. “You always pay in exact change at Mr. Kang’s store.”

Yoongi nods. “Ah.”

You walk in silence for a couple more feet, but then you giggle and ask, “So are you gonna tell me why you do that?”

Yoongi blinks at you. He pulls his lips to one side of his mouth. “Mr. Kang didn’t tell you?”

You shake your head, starting to get nervous.

“He can’t see too well anymore,” Yoongi explains. “It’s harder for him to make change.”

Your heart sinks. “Really?”

Surprised, Yoongi asks, “Didn’t he tell you when he hired you?”

That first visit to Mr. Kang’s store pops into your mind. “No, he said that he had just had his knee replaced,” you answer.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “He had his knee replaced eight years ago.” He sighs. “Proud old man won’t even install a card reader,” he adds, muttering under his breath. It’s said with the kind of annoyance and concern that only comes from knowing someone so well. Like family.

You stop at the crosswalk and wait for the light to change. And then you remember something else that Mr. Kang told you.

“He also said that he wanted to leave his store to his daughter,” you say.

“Yeah, well, as far as his daughter is concerned…” Yoongi’s eyes grow distant, watching the crosswalk counting down. “...Let’s just say that family gets tricky.”

The light turns, and you and Yoongi continue walking, the bitter wind having angrily torn into your coat and starting to chip away at your sweater sleeve.

You both quicken your pace to try and beat the cold.

“Speaking of family,” you say, “Unnie and Oppa were finally able to figure out the dates for their visit. They’ll be here tomorrow through Saturday.”

Though Unnie has been eager to plan a visit, life things got in her way. Child care plans falling through. A sudden work crisis popping up. Unanticipated car repairs. You actually didn’t mind that it took a couple of weeks to finalize the details. You’ll be happy to see her, but you and Yoongi have been enjoying your creative and coquettish crucible. You’ve told Unnie about your work, but you’ve kept all the other details hidden. A form of protection, you think. Unfortunately, like the cold wind, it’s getting harder and harder to keep the outside world from invading.

Yoongi licks his lips. “Oh.”

You steal a glance. Yoongi’s staring straight ahead.

“They’ll probably arrive around 6 or so,” you share.

“Mm.”

Yoongi’s expression doesn’t change, and you wonder what’s going through his mind. You’d feel a little better about the visit if you knew where Yoongi stood on things. Does he hate the idea of meeting someone from your family? Is there a world for the two of you past your bedroom door? Has he even heard what you’ve said?

Then again, you realize, maybe it’s too much, too soon. It’s kind of unfair for you to expect anything out of him. This was all so unexpected to begin with.

Falling silent, you get to the Big Hit building and push past the end-of-day stampede.

“What time will you be free?” Yoongi asks, as your elevator arrives.

“I won’t be,” you say dully, following him into the elevator car. It’s selfish, but you’re starting to mumble now, a bit disheartened. You sadly take off your coat and hang it over your arm, as he unzips his jacket. “We’re having dinner as soon as they arrive, and then I have the lounge at night, so I won’t even be in the studio tomorrow.”

“No,” Yoongi says, his gaze checking to make sure that you’ve safely cleared the doors as they close, “I meant, what time will you be free for me to come over and maybe say hi?”

You completely brighten as Yoongi turns to you. He’s only slightly grinning, the left corner of his mouth just ever-so-slightly higher than the right.

Suddenly, you drop your coat and throw your arms around Yoongi. You plant a gigantic kiss on him, so meaningful, and so deep, that he stumbles backward a little and lands against the mirror. He chuckles, his voice resonating in his chest and his free arm circling your waist. You squeal appreciatively, curling into him and peppering his neck and jaw with kisses for good measure.

“You really want to meet them??”

“Of course.”

He sets his mouth in a flat line, his cheeks bulging out. He tilts his head and swoops it to the side, admitting, “I mean, I know we haven’t really… discussed anything… official… but…”

“We don’t have to rush it,” you say quietly. You feel him relax a bit, and you go on to add, “Come to dinner. Jungkook will be there.” You smile. “I want Unnie to get to know you all this week. Mr. Kang, Jungkook, Namjoon, Hobi. But especially you.”

He bites his lip before leaning down. He nods as he kisses you. And then he eases. Slower now. At his signature pace.

He pulls away, and he looks at you with a completely evil look in his eye.

You smile, wondering what he’s thinking.

He carefully sets down your guitar.

And then he smashes the emergency stop button.

You giggle, and he maneuvers you so that your back rests against the cool elevator wall, his left palm laying flat against the metal and propping his upper body up as he pulls your hips to his and presses against you. His jacket has fallen down his arms a little, hanging open and creating a warm cocoon around your bodies, just like that warm cocoon of sound that he makes for your music.

His mouth lands on your cheek and travels down your jaw, his tongue folding and unfolding along the path where your neck slopes into your shoulder.

He presses his right hand onto your crotch, and you wince.

“Still sore from this morning?” he mumbles.

You nod and let out a soft moan. “And this morning, I was still sore from last night,” you groan, licking your lips as he works.

“Mm. Something more delicate, then.”

His right hand moves up and tugs at your belt loops, and you gasp as the crotch of your jeans digs into your quickly warming flesh.

“W-what if we get caught?” you whisper.

“For what? Making out?” Yoongi scoffs. “Besides…”

He tugs at your belt loops again, your entire lower half completely hidden by his jacket.

“...no one can see what we’re really doing,” he growls.

You start to lose yourself in Yoongi’s kiss and Yoongi’s touch. You are still quite sore, but Yoongi always helps you push past it. He always finds some incredible balance between being present and thinking ahead. Not only has he figured out the perfect things to do to you for this stolen, naughty moment. He’s also placed you in the elevator camera’s blindspot. And, as an extra precaution, he’s keeping his head right in front of yours as you move, making sure to shield both of your faces should you come into frame.

His lips hover against yours, your whines tickling his skin as he plays with the fabric at your waist, pulling the crotch of your pants up into your slit, moving it around to tease you. You’re so grateful that you happen to be wearing a long sweater that hits the middle of your thighs. If you had been wearing anything else, everyone would know exactly how much your pussy weeps for him.

“Think you can come for me, Boss?” Yoongi whispers.

You shake your head, almost unable to bear it all. “This is fucking crazy.”

Yoongi bunches up the fabric at the front of your pants and suddenly hikes it up, making you jolt forward and nearly bash your forehead into his.

“Give it to me,” he demands, still not speaking above a whisper.

You whine, and then you come, your knees shaking and threatening to buckle. Your hands reach back for the railing and grab on, making Yoongi laugh softly as he pulls your hips into him again. He likes finding ways to test out the theory that he can tear you apart, anywhere, anytime. And you don’t mind being his guinea pig. Everybody always wins.

He reaches over and presses the emergency stop button again as you start to catch your breath. The elevator starts to move, but you barely feel it. All you can sense is Yoongi. His touch bests the cold metal wall. His taste and scent fills your palate before the stale, office air can get in. His grunts beat the rumbling of metal.

You’re still heated and kissing when the doors open on the top floor and Hobi comes into view.

“Nasty asses,” he comments, sticking out his tongue jokingly. “This is a place of business, you heathens.”

Yoongi presses his cheek to yours, hiding his face from Hobi’s sight as he blushes.

“Whatever, Hobi,” you chuckle sheepishly, as you and Yoongi sort yourselves out and shuffle past him to join him in the empty hallway.

Hobi tries a genuine smile in response, but he looks uneasy.

“What’s up?” Yoongi asks, concerned at Hobi’s expression.

The elevator doors close, and Hobi doesn’t rush to keep them open. Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets and looks at the ground.

“Jimin’s here again,” Hobi surrenders immediately. Angrily. “He’s being an asshole. Namjoon’s dealing with it. I had to get out of there before I said or did something I’d regret.”

Yoongi sighs. “Mm.”

“I think I’m gonna get something to drink or eat,” Hobi says, pressing the button for the elevator again. “You guys want anything?”

“No, we ate,” Yoongi says, rubbing his stomach full of chips and dip, and making you smile. “And I already bought some coffees for us on our way in.”

Hobi smiles appreciatively as he gets on the elevator. “Snacks for me and Joon then. See you in a bit.”

As the doors close, Yoongi turns to you, frowning slightly. His worried eyes pour over you as he places his hand on your cheek, fingers nestling into your hair. “I don’t like the sound of this.”

You lean forward and place another kiss on his cheek, heartbroken that Yoongi is also worried that this insular world that you’ve built for yourselves is starting to crumble.

Jimin’s eyes fall flatly on you as you and Yoongi enter the studio. He stares back at Namjoon and nods his head toward the door.

“I just need to set my stuff down,” you say tenuously, hoping not to cause any trouble.

“Stay,” Yoongi firmly states, looking deeply into your eyes and resting there for a moment, almost pleading, before turning back to Jimin.

Namjoon agrees, standing from his seat on the couch. “She’s part of our team, and this is a team discussion.”

“About what, exactly?” Yoongi asks Jimin, cutting in before he can protest your presence, as he sets down your guitar and starts to take off his coat.

Jimin folds his arms. “Don’t play dumb. You’re a genius. Though you don’t have to be one to know why I’m here again,” he replies, narrowing his eyes at Yoongi’s detached demeanor. “Each of these lawsuits that you’re throwing at me is a waste of my time, and, more importantly, my money.”

“I agree,” Yoongi says, blithely moving past Jimin to sit down at the board. “But we’re not the ones filing the lawsuits. You know how the label works. The suits make these decisions.”

“Well, you’re certainly not doing anything to stop them,” Jimin hisses. “It’s so bad that it’s affecting Tae. None of our other artists want to work with him because they’re afraid of getting sued. He didn’t want to come here because he didn’t want to be seen with me, or anywhere around this place.”

“You should have thought about that before you stole Yoongi’s songs,” Namjoon mutters, moving over to his spot next to Yoongi, who has his back turned to Jimin as he starts getting ready to work.

“Look, none of you are---! Sometimes, we have to do things that---!” Jimin interrupts himself, groaning, and rubbing his eyes. “Fuck, this is a nightmare.” His voice starts to waver when he talks. “Nobody understands. No one will even talk to me.”

“Not our problem,” Namjoon says, as he turns his back to him, too.

Jimin’s eyes take in the sight of Yoongi and Namjoon speaking to each other in low voices. It feels so foreign to him now, which hurts, because it used to feel so familiar. Like breathing.

A whine threatens to leave Jimin’s throat, but he chokes it down before turning around.

He faces you, still standing by the door. You’ve taken great care not to make any waves, but now, your eyes meet his, and you catch a glimpse of the tears sparkling in his lashes. He looks at you thoughtfully before dabbing his tears away quickly, firming up the stoic expression on his face.

Striding past you, Jimin timidly opens the door and softly closes it. The sound of the latch clicking makes Yoongi swivel around. But it’s just you standing there. You meet his eyes, and he shrugs his shoulders sadly before turning back around.

Jimin’s vacant visage does something eerie to you.

You’re starting to dwell.

On him.

On the past.

You really hadn’t had much time to do that.

Dwell.

You tell yourself that it’s because you’ve been enjoying your new life so much that it hasn’t felt worth it to you to revisit the parts of your life that didn’t work. The arrows you sent sailing into the air with nowhere to land. The broken, jagged shards of things that fell out of your hands.

But, truth be told, you stay away from the past because you don’t want yours catching up with you.

You don’t want it anywhere near you.

You like to move onwards and upwards. And that attitude can be infectious. Yoongi says so as he lies in bed with you that night, both of you staring up at your ceiling, wrapped up in each other, meandering in the metaphysical after having just spent your bodies to the point of exhaustion.

He turns onto his side, folds his hands under his cheek, and smiles at you, even thanking you for helping him with that. He describes to you what it feels like, making peace with truly letting Jimin go. That what’s done is done.

Sure, he may still have flashbacks of Yaeji knocking on Jimin’s door. But he can no longer remember the color of the blouse that she was wearing. The memory’s slowly starting to fade, becoming nothing more than one of those shards.

His voice gets softer and softer as he leaves you. Sometimes, he stirs and reaches out for you, desperately trying to hold on, to stay with you just a little bit longer. But you kiss him reassuringly and let him drift. You feel a sense of accomplishment.

Purpose.

But the next day, as you fold the guest towels and set them on the bathroom counter for Unnie and Jin, you think of Jimin’s sorrowful eyes, and you can’t shake the feeling that pasts are coming back to haunt you.

“Take a breath,” Jungkook says, placing his hands on your shoulders and grinning.

You’re standing in your living room, looking at the air mattress that Jungkook has lent you and helped set up for you, his touch just a little sweaty from having to use the air pump when the built-in motor wouldn’t start.

“I don’t know why I need a breath, though,” you reply, as Jungkook strokes your upper arms. “It’s not like Eomma is coming on this trip.”

“Are you feeling nervous?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Your voice sounds ridiculously tiny. “I think so.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they won’t like my apartment. Or my job. Or my gig.” Your eyebrows raise and curl upwards. “Or… me. Who I’ve become. Who I am now.”

Jungkook wraps you in a hug, giggling and tickling you to try to make you smile. Which you do. For a moment.

“It hasn’t been that long,” he says, just over your ear. “You can’t be that different.”

“But I am,” you protest, your throat buzzing where it lays against the crook of his neck.

Jungkook laughs softly. “Can I tell you what I think?” he asks.

Rolling your eyes, you say, “Only if it’ll help.”

He sighs warmly. “I think that you care adamantly about what the people closest to you think of you because you want to do right by them.”

And then he lets you go, holding you at arm’s length, hands on your shoulders again, stroking your arms comfortingly.

“Which you do. So don’t worry.”

The comfort that he brings lasts long enough for you to do one final apartment check before you walk over to the nearby restaurant where you will meet Unnie and Jin for dinner.

It’s a small, nondescript restaurant. It’s got a reputation for being swanky and expensive, but the actual restaurant itself doesn’t really have an identity. It’s the kind of place that has something for everybody, though Unnie, and certainly Jin, aren’t really picky eaters. You just want a neutral ground to make sure that things go well.

You’re tired of things not going well.

It’s also kind of a nondescript day, neither sunny, nor cloudy. Not freezing, but not exactly sweltering either. You wouldn’t have been able to tell if you had left your apartment had you not seen the slight change in your surroundings, moving from one kind of exposed brick to a different kind of exposed brick.

Jungkook chats to try and occupy your mind, but you’re feeling restless. Uneasy. Your feet are itchy.

You feel like you want to run.

By the time you’re at the restaurant, sitting and waiting for Unnie and Jin, as well as hoping for Yoongi to finish up his work soon, another flood of anxious waves is rippling through you.

“Take a sip of water,” Jungkook offers, reaching forward for the glass that the waitress has just set down in front of you.

“I just feel like I can’t let my guard down for some reason,” you say, getting to your glass first and taking a drink.

Jungkook props up his elbow on the table and rests his chin in his hand. “You know that you get like this when you’re stressed, and especially when you pull late nights at the studio,” he observes. “But you just need some food. Some rest. The feeling will pass. It always does.”

Though you’ve only been friends for a short time, Jungkook knows you so well. Impeccably well. And you agree with his assessment wholeheartedly. You tend to prepare yourself for potential worst case scenarios. And most of the time, they stay just that.

Potential. Hypothetical. Broken, jagged shards merely imagined. Things you never should have wasted time worrying about in the first place.

You hope that the feeling will dissipate once you feel Yoongi’s curious eyes meet yours. You aren’t sure how long he’s been standing by the front desk, but a group clears, and you see him find you. He nods at the hostess, and he heads your way. You share small smiles with each other as he approaches. He’s a little more dressed up than usual, substituting his hoodie and puffy coat with a sweater and a wool pea coat. Sweatpants for tailored jeans. Sneakers for boots. But he’s sticking his signature beanie in his left inside coat pocket and ruffling his hair.

You try to figure out what kind of expression to make to communicate to him that if it weren’t for all these people, and if this weren’t a family dinner of sorts, you’d have him here and now.

But before you can figure it out, he’s at your table, letting out a small grunt to announce his arrival.

His appearance is doing nothing to calm your anxiety. You lean harder than you usually do into the kiss that he presses at your temple to see if his lips are the remedy. He knows what you’re feeling, somehow. He even places an arm on the back of your chair, equal parts protective and intimate.

Still, the restless feeling lingers.

The only thing that helps you break the surface for one tiny breath of air is the sight of Jungkook’s rosy cheeks and his little, excited wiggle back into his seat after he and Yoongi half-stand and shake hands to say hi before they both sit down at the table with you.

You smile to yourself at how tiny that handshake was for how big of a step forward it actually represents.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” Yoongi apologizes, scooting his chair in and unbuttoning his coat with one hand.

“No worries,” Jungkook says happily, even though the apology was more for you. He just so loves making new friends, and you can tell that he can’t wait to be one of Yoongi’s. You know that in his mind, Jungkook’s already imagining all sorts of hangouts together. It may have started with a shared guacamole bowl at the store. But now that they’ve shaken hands, it could be popcorn at the movies. A bucket of fried chicken at your place for dinner. Maybe even a bowl of noodles after a chalky high-five at the rock climbing gym.

“Everything OK?” you ask Yoongi.

“Yeah, I was burning demos onto CDs to pass out to the trainees.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did you make sure to save one for Suran? I’d really love for her to get a copy and see what she’d do with our tracks.”

Yoongi smiles. “Made one especially for her,” he tells you, touched by your enthusiasm and eager mentorship.

Feeling a little tickle of relief at something finally feeling right, you lean back in your seat and take a deep breath.

Yoongi sends Jungkook a questioning look, and Jungkook shrugs and looks piteously at you as you pull your ringing phone out of your pocket.

“How about you, Boss? Everything OK?” Yoongi asks you, reaching for his water.

“Yeah,” you say, checking Unnie’s incoming text and looking up at the door to watch for them. “They’re pulling up now. Just looking for a place to park.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Yoongi says. “Almost all the meters outside are still free.”

You feel your body settling into place, the warmth of Jungkook’s contentment, and the strength of Yoongi’s matter-of-fact-ness, starting to lull you into a sense of comfort.

But you don’t completely let your guard down. Bad things happen when you let your guard down.

And yet, when they come through the door, you’re somehow still blindsided.

Jae’s eyes are so painfully piercing that when they spot you, they feel like bullets boring holes through your brain.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

“Who’s that?” Jungkook asks.

You stand as Jae approaches the table. Jungkook and Yoongi rise to their feet to join you, flanking you on both sides, Jungkook a little confused, and Yoongi a little wary.

“Jae?” you say.

Yoongi’s eyes narrow.

Jungkook’s jaw sets.

Jae’s lips curl into a frown as he sizes them up.

And his stupid voice seeps unpleasantly into the air.

“Your unnie failed to mention that we’d have company.”

“Guess she left us both out of the loop,” you say pointedly, and Jungkook can’t help but smirk nastily.

Unnie and Jin start to approach the table, just behind him. Once Unnie catches sight of the way everyone’s staring at each other, as well as the deeply annoyed look on your face, she glances at Jin nervously.

Jin puffs his cheeks out and can’t help but shoot her a self-satisfied grin before turning to the table and exclaiming, “Hi, everyone! Sorry we’re so late. We hit traffic.”

He circles the table and hugs you as you greet him with a soft, “Hi, Oppa.” He can’t help but soften at the term. Millions of people use it every day, but you’re the only one in his life who uses it with him.

“I told her it was a bad idea,” he whispers quickly, so that only you can hear. “She’s just trying to look out for you. Please hear her out.”

Aggravated, you sigh. “Don’t I always?”

“You both do,” Jin reminds you as he pulls away.

As Unnie takes his place, you try to swallow your pride, along with all the curses you desperately want to screech. She hugs you, but you freeze. Pulling back, she looks into your eyes, seeming like she wants to give her explanation now.

“Let’s just get through dinner,” you forestall, turning back to the table.

You run through the introductions as quickly as you can to avoid as much awkwardness as possible, but things get difficult when you reach Jae. It takes every ounce of power generated by the mitochondria in nearly every cell of your body to keep you from saying something about him being the complete dipshit who dumped you as someone sang the words, “Then magnificently we will float into the mystic”.

What comes out is, “And, well, this is Jae, I guess.”

“You guess?” Jae asks, seething. “I mean, it is me. I’m here. I came all the way out here to see you.”

It’s inconceivable to you as to why he’s the angry one, but for everyone else’s sake, you take a breath and say, “Jae and I go back.” You turn to Yoongi and Jungkook. “You know.”

“And what exactly do they know?” Jae asks, leaning forward and glaring at you from across the table.

The waitress comes by to take your orders, but things have been so tense that nobody’s really gotten a chance to take a look at the menus. Thankfully, Jin takes the lead again and orders entrées for the group to share, your mind too busy to notice what he’s choosing.

You try to catch everybody up on your life and work, doing your best to ignore the way Jae is uncomfortably fidgeting in his seat.

Soon enough, you’re lost in the stories that you’re telling. How you found Mr. Kang. Your first couple of brushes with Yoongi. Your one and only date with Jungkook. The jazz lounge. Jungkook and Yoongi even chime in with more details and their surprising takes, making Unnie, Jin, and most importantly, you, laugh.

Before long, the dishes start to come out. You smile as each piping hot order is set on the table. Jin, the perfect oppa, continues to help you bear the load of the evening. You slyly notice that he’s ordered all your favorite comfort food. When the third and fourth dishes come out, and you realize that this is no coincidence, you look over at Jin, and he gives you an encouraging wink.

Though Jae is decidedly checked out, things are going so well with Unnie and Jin that you order a couple of bottles of wine.

You tell more stories. More about Mr. and Mrs. Kang. Working with Hobi and Namjoon. The saga of Antiques Store Guy and Candle Shop Lady.

Your gig with Yoongi.

As Jungkook regales them with the details of that night, Yoongi finds your hand under the table and gives it a squeeze.

“Will you be performing at tonight’s gig?” Unnie asks Yoongi, as you all polish off the last of your plates and drinks.

“We hadn’t planned on it,” Yoongi says, as you turn to him and share a soft, happy smile.

“We?” Jae cuts in, furious.

You frown at him. “You seem to be taking a lot of issues with the words being used today,” you say.

“Yeah, well, this dinner wasn’t what I expected,” Jae replies, folding his arms and nearly elbowing the waitress as she comes by to start clearing the table.

“I’m sorry, was the food or service not up to your standards?” the waitress asks nervously.

“No, no, everything was wonderful,” Jin reassures her.

“I mean, he ate, like, a lot, so he seemed to enjoy it,” Jungkook adds, while staring at Jae. Jungkook’s words drip with acid, his face a litmus test indicating that he’s already past his limit for insufferability for the evening.

“Drank a lot, too,” Yoongi points out.

Jae stands in a huff, nearly toppling over as he pulls out his wallet. “Fine. If that’s what you’re all so concerned about, then this should cover my share.”

He smugly throws down his black card, his prized possession, onto the table.

“Oh, that’s OK,” the waitress says, smiling. “He already paid for dinner.”

She nods over to Yoongi, who just sits there, as if the gigantic bill that you had racked up was as nondescript as this restaurant, or this day.

“Wow, Yoongi,” Jin says, brightening. “Are you sure? I was planning on paying, given that I ordered everything.”

Yoongi shakes his head once. “My treat.”

“That’s incredibly kind of you,” Unnie says, smiling.

“Glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for letting me join you,” Yoongi says earnestly, his voice deep and warm like the wine running through your veins.

You’re swooning.

In fact, Unnie, and Jin, and even Jungkook, are swooning.

Jae, however, is not.

He shakes his head and storms out of the restaurant, knocking into the waitress and causing her to drop all of the plates, the white, food-stained porcelain crashing to the ground and screaming across the tiled floor.

Enraged, you scoot your chair back and rush outside after Jae. Unnie and Jungkook rush after you, and Yoongi and Jin stay behind to help the waitress with the plates, apologizing profusely on everyone’s behalf.

You get outside, quickly surrounded by darkness and cold.

Jin’s head bobs up and down in the light of the oncoming traffic as he marches away.

“Why the fuck are you even here?!” you exclaim.

He stops when he hears your voice. He pauses. And then he turns on his heel, bounding toward you.

“To win you back!” Jae bellows, as he looms nearer. “Wasn’t that blatantly obvious? I mean, I have my Tom Ford suit on, for Christ’s sake!”

Now that he mentions it, Jae does look a little overdressed. You hadn’t noticed.

“We haven’t spoken in nearly a year!” you say. “Did you think you could just show up and pick back up from where we left off?”

Jae throws his hands in the air. “Kinda, yeah! Like every time we fought before that!”

“How can you not see that this was completely different?” you ask. “Do you not remember how we left things off?”

“I remember being stranded in a parking lot with you screaming at me to fuck off before we could even have a conversation!”

“I remember you dumping me in the middle of a sea of strangers before I even knew we had to have one!”

“You just ran off!” Jae cries. “You ran away, and to be honest, that was what I was afraid of happening if I brought up anything remotely related to how I was feeling! And I might not have done it the right way. I admit that I fucked that up. But I was trying to express what I was feeling, and you didn’t give me a chance to try again!”

“Why did you even want to try again?” you ask. “I mean, we’d only been dating for a short while, and it’s not like we---”

“I love you!”

All the blocked calls. Reaching out to your friends, apparently. Reaching out to Unnie. It makes sense now.

But Jae’s love is something you do not want.

His stare skewers yours with such strength that it feels like an attack. When he wraps his arms around you, you go rigid, and it feels like he’s about to haul you off and take you prisoner. And his lips land on yours unwelcomingly, not like gifts, but like grenades.

You cry out for help, screaming for him to let go of you, and trying to squirm out of his grasp. But he’s too strong. And you struggle to find any gaps between your body that you can use as leverage. He’s on top of you, too heavy. And then you feel a push. His hands release you. A yell. Maybe a couple.

And then, suddenly, he feels gone.

You slowly open your eyes and see Jae lying on the ground, completely blacked out.

You turn around.

Jin and Yoongi have just joined you outside, their jaws swinging open like the restaurant’s doors.

Unnie is standing a few feet away from you, holding her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock.

And Jungkook is standing just beside and behind you, eyelids scrunched shut, still in position and following-through for the punch that he’s thrown.

He blinks his eyes open and peers down at Jae, crumpled on the ground.

“Holy shit!” Jin exclaims, rushing over to Jae and kneeling down.

Jungkook straightens and shakes his wrist out. “He’s out?” he asks, as you both watch Jin check Jae over.

“Cold,” Jin says, after checking to see that he’s still breathing. “I like him better this way.”

Unnie stands next to you and hugs you to her side. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” you say, smiling at Jungkook gratefully. “Thanks.”

Jungkook shakes his head at you. “That guy’s a real kick in the tits, isn’t he?”

You hear footsteps from behind you. Unnie takes a step away and watches as Yoongi jogs up to you, reaching out for you, his face painted with cavernous lines of concern.

“I really am fine,” you repeat, relieved.

Yoongi nods, taking your hands in his. He shoots Jungkook a thankful look, and Jungkook nods back.

You all exchange glances, unsure of what to do next.

“We’ll probably have to take him back to mine,” you answer, looking back down at Jae. “If we leave him here, he’ll call the cops.”

“Wait, what?” Jungkook asks, his eyes growing in fear.

“Don’t worry,” Jin says, hoisting up a still blacked-out Jae, swinging his arm over his shoulders. “Can’t press charges while you’re unconscious. Help me get him in the car?”

Jungkook nods and joins Jin, swinging Jae’s other arm around his shoulders and walking him to Jin’s SUV as Unnie gets the door.

You turn back to Yoongi. “What do you need?” he asks. “How can I help?”

Heart and stomach fluttering, a Pavlovian response to whenever he asks you that, you smile and lean forward to kiss him. Meaningfully. Reassuringly. And then you tell him, “It’s late. Call for a car and go home. Get some rest.” You sigh. “I think I have to just… deal with this tonight.”

Yoongi sighs and pulls you into a hug, watching as Jin compliments Jungkook’s overhand right, neither of them taking care to shield Jae’s head as they haphazardly stuff him into the back seat.

“Call me if you need anything at all.”

“I will.”

“And I’ll swing by tomorrow to pick you up.”

“OK.”

Yoongi looks at you, unsure.

“I kinda… don’t… wanna leave you.”

Grinning, you hold his face in your hands and run your thumbs over his cheeks. “I’ll be fine. Unnie and Oppa are going to be with me. And if things get really dicey, Jungkook still has his left hand.”

You’re finally able to crack a smile across Yoongi’s face. You kiss him again, and he watches as you get into Jin’s car.

You’ve never canceled a gig before.

When you explain the situation to the jazz lounge owner on the phone, he tells you not to worry, though your heart is already broken when he greets you with the news that they were anticipating a huge crowd, word having gotten around about your incredible performance with Yoongi. What makes matters worse is that instead of doing something else with Yoongi, you’re staring into Jae’s dumb face as he lies on your couch, still asleep. You never wanted to see that face again, even if it is swollen and already starting to bruise.

Jin has just fallen asleep on the air mattress, exhausted after a day of driving and what he affectionately calls ‘Oppa-ing’, no longer able to fight off the food and wine coma that has settled into his bones. You place the last warm guest blanket on top of him and smile. You lay a grateful kiss on his cheek, and he winks and smirks in his sleep.

Then, you join Jungkook, Unnie, and a bottle of soju that Unnie and Jin brought, in your bedroom.

Jungkook looks precious in one of your patterned pajama sets, covered in pink cupcakes. Unnie is wearing her set with blue ice cream cones, laughing softly and sweetly as she uses her fingers to comb his hair and tie it into pigtails.

You smirk at the sight of him.

“What?” Jungkook asks. “Obviously, I’m staying over. In case Jae tries anything else.”

You kiss him on the cheek and climb into bed with them, staying true to the theme of your impromptu slumber party with your yellow pajamas covered in chocolate donuts.

“Glad we were kind of able to salvage the night,” you say.

“The pajamas help,” Jungkook says, as he pours you a shot of soju.

And as you watch him pour, you and Unnie catch a glimpse of the bruises on Jungkook’s knuckles.

“God, I’m so sorry that I brought him here,” Unnie tells you, as you down your shot.

You wipe your mouth with the end of your sleeve. You’ve been wanting to ask all night. Jin says there’s a reason. It has to be a good one.

“...Why did you bring him here?”

Jungkook grows as quiet as his eyes are wide.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Unnie complains, playfully flicking one of Jungkook’s pigtails and making him wince a little.

She turns back to you. “Look, Jae had been calling every weekend to check in and try to find you. He was saying all these great things. That he’s sorry. That he misses you. That he wants to make things work with you.” She sighs. “I let slip that we were planning on seeing you, and he begged me to let him come along. Jin said it was a terrible idea, but I thought this might be the big romantic gesture that might inspire you to give him another chance.”

You sigh and hand Jungkook the shot glass.

“That’s not your decision to make,” you tell Unnie, as Jungkook pours another shot for her and offers it to her.

She downs it quickly. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” she admits, squeezing her eyes shut as she swallows. “A good one.”

“Well, it was a very bad one!” you double-down.

Unnie sighs. “I know that now. I’m sorry.”

“You could have known it right away if you had just listened to me, to what I was telling you,” you point out.

“Well, none of this would have happened if I had known about Yoongi,” Unnie suggests.

You frown, and Jungkook tsk!s before taking a gulp of soju straight from the bottle.

Unnie looks at Jungkook with frustration. “You know, you’re awfully cute, but you’re kind of getting on my nerves right now with your little judgy expressions or whatever.”

Jungkook scrunches up his lips. “I mean, but… she and Yoongi are…”

He looks at you, and you’re grateful that he’s trying to help while also recognizing that it’s your information to share.

You decide to spell it out for Unnie. “It’s my story to tell or not tell. Jungkook gets it. Why don’t you get it?”

Unnie looks at you so delicately that you think she’s about to cry.

“I feel so far away from you. You just up and left. You basically haven’t told me anything since. And I worry because of it. Why don’t you get that?”

“Aw,” Jungkook squeaks.

You turn to him, and he pouts. “She loves you so much, Boss,” he says.

Unnie furrows her brow. “Boss?”

You and Jungkook share a look. He grins, and you start laughing. Before Unnie feels too left out of the loop, you start explaining the nickname. And as you explain, Jungkook doing his best Mr. Kang impression, you smile at Unnie, reach out for her hand, and link your pinkies, gripping tightly.

As the night goes on and the soju steadily runs out, you and Unnie trade life updates. A promotion for Unnie. An augmented reality startup acquired by Jin and his company. How well the kids are doing in school. How stubborn and livid Eomma still is about your whole situation. How that last part doesn’t matter, because you seem to be thriving.

Jungkook slowly amasses and hogs all your pillows, propping himself up and on his side to disguise the fact that he’s starting to fall asleep.

“Jungkook,” you say, watching his neck starting to go slack, his head bobbling precariously.

“Huh?”

“You’re falling asleep,” you say, as Unnie giggles.

His eyes blink at different speeds. “No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No. I’m awake. Keep talking.”

You turn to Unnie and smirk. “He just likes being included,” you explain.

“No, I get it,” Unnie says. “Sometimes you just want to be with people.”

Soon, Jungkook lets out a snore, which confirms that he’s completely gone for the night. Even without the wine and soju in his system, he sleeps deeper than even Jae is probably sleeping right now. You reach out and start to stroke his hair thoughtfully, enjoying watching him as he dozes peacefully.

“Tell me more about Yoongi,” Unnie says softly.

You keep your eyes on Jungkook, but you smile at Yoongi’s name. “I already told you everything.”

“You told me how you met and everything. But I wanna know what he’s like,” she says. “I mean, what he’s really like.”

You’re not really sure how to answer the question. Everything you know to be true and essential to who Yoongi is doesn’t exist in verbal form. It’s in a language of actions. Movement. Even silence.

You try to describe him anyway.

“He cares about things,” you say. “Deeply. More than I think anyone I’ve known. And he cares about so much. About his music. But especially about people. And, I’m starting to think, about me.”

Unnie grins. “He was fantastic at dinner tonight.”

You nod. “That’s exactly what I mean. He’s so present. So willing to give. So willing to… help.”

Unnie catches you blushing when you share that, and she leans into you, forcing her eyes into your gaze to pull you away from Jungkook’s restful mush.

You giggle, and you tell her about that first night with Yoongi. How selfless and generous he was. You tell her about the time after that. How curious and playful he encouraged you to be. And then you tell her about the time after he played the piano for you. How he did the same with your body, showing off how talented a maestro he truly is.

Unnie’s blushing along with you by the end of your stories.

“Goddamn,” she sighs. And then she smiles fondly. “That’s kind of how it was with Jin in the beginning.”

“Gross,” you say, starting to feel sympathy for the likes of Jungkook, Namjoon, and Hobi, happy but not exactly thrilled to catch you making out or grabbing at each other throughout the day. Imagining Unnie as anything other than your doting sister, or Jin as anything other than your kind and sweet oppa, makes you cringe.

“What? I can’t share my sex stories?” Unnie asks. “Aren’t I a human woman? If you cut me, do I not bleed?”

“Sorry,” you say, pushing past the awkwardness and trying to model a bit of Yoongi’s generosity with time and silence. “Is it… Is it still like that?”

Unnie thinks about it, and then she shrugs. “Sometimes. The fundamental stuff grows richer with time. But some things change as you grow together. You get tired of some experiences. You supplant them with new ones. It’s like with any other relationship. There are phases.”

“I don’t know much about those phases,” you admit.

“Because you haven’t stuck around long enough to find out,” Unnie observes.

You’re about to defend yourself vehemently when Unnie quickly adds, “Which isn’t a problem at all! It’s just not something you’ve, y’know. Encountered yet.”

Your eyes narrow a bit, but you feel comforted by Unnie’s ability to adjust, even in the span of just one evening.

“I know you don’t need anyone to look after you,” Unnie tells you, reading your mind in her annoyingly textbook, big sister way, “but it’s just nice to know that you have good, decent, steady people in your life to make things a little easier. A little happier. I thought Jae might’ve been one of those people. When he said all those kind things about you, I wanted to see if I could help him get back to you.”

She looks at you.

“I’m really, really sorry. But… I’m also kind of relieved at how tonight played out.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Tonight was a disaster.”

“Tonight showed people’s true colors,” Unnie says.

You would suspect that Unnie is trying to talk her way out of taking responsibility for Jae’s presence, but she’s already owned up to it and apologized.

It’s starting to rattle you, how quickly you get defensive.

With the way Unnie sounds, as if walking on eggshells, you begin to wonder if you’ve always been like that.

You smile uneasily. “I guess you have a point.”

“You guess?” Unnie teases, echoing Jae’s voice and making you laugh.

She yawns and stretches, and you collect the empty soju bottle and shot glass. You lead her out to the living room, where she climbs into bed next to Jin, who automatically rolls over and wraps his arms around her. You smile to yourself as you watch them snuggle against each other, sleepy and drunk and content.

You take a glimpse at Jae, who hasn’t moved, but who is still breathing, which is enough for you to know.

You do your best to set the shot glass and soju bottle down on the kitchen counter, and you turn off all remaining lights before padding over to your bedroom door. You can hear Jungkook steadily snoring, and though it would feel comfortable and relaxing to climb into bed with him, you’re still wide awake.

Sleeping next to Yoongi has perhaps shown you a glimpse of one of those phases in a relationship that Unnie was talking about.

What you wouldn’t give to be able to cuddle up next to him now.

You tiptoe into your room, though you kind of don’t need to, and take your phone from your nightstand. You tiptoe back outside, trying to figure out where you could go.

And then you catch sight of your keys on the counter.

The store key glimmers, catching some of the streetlight pouring in.

You grab your coat and head downstairs, entering the code and using the key to get into the back office. You sit at Mr. Kang’s desk, and then you pull out your phone.

It’s so, so late. But you know Yoongi’s awake, too. In the wee small hours.

“Hey Boss,” Yoongi answers, his voice low but alert.

“Are you at home?” you ask.

“Studio,” he answers with a chuckle.

You hear a voice in the background. “Is someone there with you?”

“Yeah. Suran. We bumped into each other in the hallway, so I figured I’d show her the demo, maybe play around with it a bit.”

You hear a click, and Yoongi lets Suran know that you’re on the phone. She speaks into the recording booth mic, and you hear her greet you through the speakers.

“Oh,” you say. You’re surprised, especially given how late it is, and how empty the building must be. “Tell her I say hi back.”

Yoongi relays your message. There’s another click of the comms, and then he adds, “We’re just wrapping up, and then I’m going home.”

“Do you even have a home?” you joke. “I still haven’t seen it.”

“You can,” Yoongi says. “Anytime you want. Now, even. I can come pick you up.”

You laugh. “Maybe not tonight.” Then you sigh and quip, “But I’m making good on that offer very soon, just like I did with the last one.”

Yoongi groans at the sultry way you say that part. “Is that why you’re calling? Do you need some help?”

“Honestly, I just wanted to hear your voice,” you say. “Everyone’s asleep. I came down to the store to call you. I’m sitting at Mr. Kang’s desk. If you started something now, it’d really be awkward.”

Yoongi exhales through his nose and says, “Yeah, the Big Hit elevators are one thing. Defiling Mr. Kang’s office is quite another.”

“Don’t say things like ‘defile’. It’s helping, which is not helping.”

“Mm.”

“Those grunts aren’t helping either.”

“...Mm.”

You sigh, making Yoongi snicker. You unzip your jacket to release some of the heat that’s building.

“I miss you,” you say, enjoying the teasing, but trying to bring things back to a softer place.

There’s a long pause, and a small squeak. “I miss you too,” Yoongi mumbles, and you imagine him getting embarrassed and swiveling his chair around so that Suran can’t see his lips moving to say those words.

“How was the rest of your evening?” he asks.

“It was good,” you say. “Oppa went right to sleep. Jungkook stayed over because he was feeling protective. He, Unnie, and I had some soju and hung out. And then Unnie and I had a bit of a heart-to-heart.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “Is… he… still around?”

“Yeah, but I wanna get rid of him first thing in the morning.”

“Good idea.” Yoongi sounds relieved. Like Unnie did. “You should get some rest then. Seems like that’ll be a task that requires plenty of energy.”

You laugh together, and then you hear his voice settle in his throat, just a fraction of a beat more than the rest of his chuckles, like a fermata hanging over the note. You love the way he does that. How he finds ways to hang on just a bit longer.

“I don’t hear you going upstairs,” Yoongi points out.

“Sing something to me,” you say.

“Go upstairs first.”

“Promise me you’ll sing when I get up there.”

“Ugh, fine.”

You grin to yourself and make fake going-upstairs sounds. You stomp around, but you stay in Mr. Kang’s chair. You pick up and jingle your keys. You close a drawer like you’d close a door. You slip out of your coat, but instead of hanging it up, you make a pillow. You pace your actions to the exact amount of time it would take you to get back to your apartment. But then you lay flat on Mr. Kang’s desk, resting your head on your makeshift pillow and pinning the phone to it with your ear.

Once Yoongi hears you, he gives Suran a few final notes, and then they say their goodbyes. You hear Suran chirp a thank you as she exits the studio. And then you hear Yoongi lean back in his chair, groaning through a long, full-body stretch.

“Are you in bed?” he asks.

“I’m lying down,” you say, wrapping your arms in a circle around your makeshift coat pillow, being truthful on a technicality. “Are you alone?”

Yoongi grunts. “Yes.”

“Then sing,” you whisper. “You promised.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath. And then he starts humming.

“No, no, no. You promised you’d sing,” you reprimand, so tickled that you want to bowl over and cackle.

Yoongi clicks his teeth and then pauses again. He lets his deep voice trickle out of him. And then he starts to sing. You don’t recognize what song at first, until you realize he’s singing a commercial jingle that plays non-stop almost everywhere you go.

You start laughing, which makes him start laughing, and then something shifts inside of you. You were hot, but now you’re warm. And cozy. And sleepy.

You close your eyes.

“More.”

Yoongi sings another round.

“Mmm. More.”

You keep going, putting him on repeat, each round gentler, and quieter. He sings it as many times as it takes to help you fall asleep.

And you fall completely.

“Donuts, eh?”

You startle awake and find Mr. Kang leaning over you. He smiles when you wake up.

“How darling,” he says, his eyes sparkling.

You peer up at him, scrunching your face. You look down to see that you’re still wearing your donut pajamas.

And then you jump to your feet, backing away from the desk before stepping forward and gathering your phone and coat.

“I’m so sorry,” you tell him. “I came down here to… Well, last night, we all… My unnie’s in town, and… Ugh, how do I even---”

The beeping keypad interrupts your train of thought, and you watch Jungkook burst in, still wearing his pink cupcakes and pigtails. He relaxes immediately at the sight of you, placing his hand on his chest, over his heart. He sighs and leans his head all the way back, closing his eyes.

“Boss, I swear…”

“I’m sorry!” you exclaim.

Mr. Kang starts laughing. “What in the world are you two wearing?”

Unnie bursts into the office, her hair a bird’s nest, her face pallid, her pajamas still covered in blue ice cream cones.

“Where the hell have you been?!” she demands.

Mr. Kang delights in the sight of her, howling and folding in half. “These! Are! So! Adorable!” he claps, walking over to Unnie and patting her on the shoulder. “You must be Unnie. I’m Mr. Kang.”

Unnie is discombobulated, but not so much that she doesn’t respectfully shake Mr. Kang’s hand and introduce herself properly, and formally.

Mr. Kang laughs and says, “Well, it’s great to meet you. The Boss here has been telling us about you and your wonderful reputation. We’ve been excited for your visit.”

“She told you about me?” Unnie asks.

“Well, of course I did,” you say meekly.

She softens. But then she remembers that she’s mad at you. “Well, you could have told us where you went last night. Or this morning. Or…”

She blinks at you, a younger, almost mirror image of her, different pajamas but the same bird’s nest for hair.

“Wait, did you sleep here??”

“I, uh, yeah,” you admit.

“We’ve been searching for you!” Unnie exclaims, trying to take deep breaths to slow her heart rate down. “We freaked out when we woke up and you were just gone! Called your phone, no answer! Called the store, obviously no answer! I even called Yoongi’s work phone!”

“You did?”

“We found it on a business card in your guitar case,” Jungkook explains, as Unnie checks her phone.

She looks up at you. “And now Jin says Jae’s starting to wake up.”

You turn to Mr. Kang. “This must be very confusing, but I promise I’ll explain later. We kind of have to deal with something.”

“Don’t worry at all. Let me know if you need anything,” Mr. Kang says, looking concerned.

You all start to rush out the door to get back to your apartment, but you catch and swing around the door frame to look back at Mr. Kang. “I am so incredibly sorry that I came here during off-hours for personal reasons. I wasn’t thinking straight. I completely understand if you fire me.”

Mr. Kang guffaws. “Fire you? And lose my chips and dip?”

He walks over to you and pats your hair down to make it look less crazy.

“Let’s just say that you wanted to greet me this morning and give me a laugh,” he tells you. “If anything, I’d say that calls for a bonus.”

You hug Mr. Kang tightly, your heart overflowing.

“I’m buying you a set of these pajamas. One with avocados on them.”

“Ooh!” Mr. Kang exclaims. “Could you maybe get one for Mrs. Kang too? So we can match?”

You laugh gently and pull back, grinning so happily at this incredibly sweet man. You remember what he and Yoongi have told you about his past. Whatever he’s faced, Mr. Kang has still got to be the epitome of a gentleman. A good soul. You could learn a thing or two from him about how to embrace the past when it catches up with you.

When you get upstairs, Jae is sitting at your kitchen table, holding a plastic bag of ice cubes against his black eye, glaring at his coffee, his knee bouncing impatiently.

His other eye meets your stare, and he frowns.

“Serves you right,” you reply, slipping out of your coat and hanging it up.

Unnie and Jungkook stay closeby, in the kitchen, as you walk over to him. You see his knee shaking, and you ask, “How many cups have you had?”

“I have to pee,” Jae barks, “but Lurch here won’t let me go into any of the other rooms without your approval.”

Jin folds his arms. “Lurch? You think I look like Lurch??”

“Not your face, sweetie,” Unnie says reassuringly. “You’re just so tall.”

“And broad,” Jungkook adds, in awe. “Look at those shoulders. I mean. Wow.”

Jin’s ears and neck turn red, and he shyly raises his shoulders at Jungkook’s compliment.

“Ugh, I can’t wait any longer!”

Jae stands suddenly, and Jin drops into ready mode, hunching over and planting his feet broad-shoulder-width apart, hands outstretched and curled, ready to leap and tackle if necessary.

“Let him go, Oppa,” you say.

Jin begrudgingly straightens and moves out of Jae’s way, as Unnie walks over to him.

“Has he been giving you a hard time?” Unnie asks Jin, settling into his side.

“Kind of,” Jin admits. “He got a little snoopy. Said something about wanting his records back.”

“Which I do,” Jae says annoyedly. “And stop talking about me like I’m not here.” He slams the bathroom door shut.

Jin turns crimson at a sudden realization. “We’re, uh, lucky that I woke up first. I, uh, covered up some, uh… things.”

Your brain nearly implodes when you realize that your kind, sweet Oppa had to close the box that contains your sex toys to keep them hidden from sight.

Jin lowers his voice. “And I hid his phone, just in case.”

Jungkook eases a bit, no longer spooked by the thought of Jae pressing charges.

“Thanks, man,” Jungkook replies.

Jin winks at him supportively.

You hear the toilet flush, and Jae lumbers back into view. “I’m not calling the cops or any lawyers, if that’s what you’re mumbling about,” he complains, sitting back down in the chair.

Yoongi’s chair.

You remember what you need to do, and it brings everything back into focus.

“Then what’s keeping you here?” you ask.

“I need my phone--” He turns to Jin and furrows his brow. “---to make arrangements.”

Jin sinks a bit. “Oh. That makes sense.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out Jae’s phone, handing it to you. You turn it over in your hands, making Jae huff angrily. Then, you give it back to Jae, who rolls his eyes and opens his travel app.

“Fucking nightmare,” he mumbles, and you catch him booking a flight instead of buying a bus ticket. That’s how quickly he wants to get out.

“How the fuck do you think I feel?” you tell him.

To Jae’s credit, he does look a little remorseful.

“OK, so… is everything all good?” Jungkook asks hopefully.

“Yeah,” you say. “Thanks, Jungkook.”

He smiles at you. “No problem. Mind if I use your shower? I’ve got a couple of mid-morning delivery runs.”

“Go ahead,” you say, giggling at how purposeful Jungkook always seems to be. “You know where everything is. Use what you need.”

Jungkook walks over to you and presses a kiss to your cheek before heading to your room to get his things.

Now that everything feels safe, Unnie and Jin mention that they’re going to run out and buy something for breakfast. You sit at the kitchen table and wait as Jungkook turns the shower on, and as Unnie and Jin bundle up and head out the door.

You and Jae stare at each other from across the kitchen table. For a moment, you flash back to the table that you sat at during that open mic. Were his eyes so sharp back then?

“What the fuck was last night?” you question.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you. “I don’t know if this makes much of a difference, but I didn’t mean it.”

“What? That you’re sorry? That you love me? Or that it was over? Because you’re sending me mixed signals,” you say angrily.

He sighs.

“When I kissed you like that. I’ve never crossed a line like that before.”

He looks embarrassed.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

For the first time since you’ve seen him on this trip, it doesn’t pain you to look him in the eye.

You grow very quiet. For a moment, you flash back to the minutes just before he dropped the bomb on you. You feel his hand on yours, drawing circles in your palm to help you feel a little less nervous before you went on. There were things that he just couldn’t seem to do, like listen to you or empathize with you. But there were also things that he did well.

“I guess Jungkook’s punch knocked you back pretty far,” you joke. “You sound like the Jae I met before. Not the guy I met yesterday.”

Jae smiles a little. But then he sits back in his chair. “But I do mean what I said about the records. You’d better give them back. I saw them in that box.”

One of the other things that Jae couldn’t do was let a nice moment just happen.

Scowling, you walk over to the box of records by your bookshelf.

And then you catch sight of your box of sex toys. The one that Jin hastily tossed one of his blankets over to cover up.

“Some of those records are priceless,” he goes on, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

You grin to yourself and switch the boxes. “Oh yeah?” you ask, reaching over to your bookshelf for some of your leftover packing supplies.

“Yeah. There’s an original Nina Simone pressing somewhere in there.”

You pull a couple of random records and place them next to the cut-out handles. You grab some old books that you don’t mind parting with, just to make the box feel a little heavier, and more uniform in weight distribution. You stick them in with your vibrators and dildos, smirking to yourself as you tape the box up and carry it back to the kitchen table.

Jae smiles. “Oh. Thanks for packing them.”

“No problem,” you say, sneering.

Jae sighs and stands. “That’ll be the last that you have of me,” he says. “Think you can part with them?”

“It’s OK,” you say, meaningfully, but not in the way that Jae assumes. “I don’t need them anymore.

All that’s left for Jae to do is put on his coat and shoes and meet his ride to the airport. Jin had brought all the luggage upstairs when you got home last night, but with Jae unconscious, nothing of his got unpacked.

You wait outside with him for his rideshare, the box resting on top of his roller suitcase.

And when his car comes, you have to clench every muscle in your body to keep from laughing.

“Tell Unnie and Oppa thanks for me,” he says, as he packs his things in the trunk.

You nod.

And then Jae walks up to you. He holds out his hand for a handshake.

“No, are you fucking crazy?” you ask.

Jae frowns and rolls his eyes as he gets in the backseat.

As you watch him drive off, a huge smile spreads across your face. You can’t wait to get that earful once he opens that box. The scene in your imagination is almost enough.

You turn to go back inside, but then you feel another set of eyes on you.

You turn and see Yoongi approaching you from a few feet away.

“Yoongi?” you ask.

He jams his hands into his pockets and jogs lightly over to you.

“Was that Jae?” Yoongi asks, nearing you.

“Yeah,” you tell him.

“You’re smiling,” Yoongi observes.

“He’s heading to the airport,” you say, laughing softly to yourself.

Yoongi nods slowly.

You notice that he’s sweating a little bit.

And then you remember.

“You got Unnie’s message, didn’t you?” you ask.

Yoongi nods. “I didn’t see it until after our work meeting.”

You nestle into him, and he slides his arms around you. He feels a little stiff. And his sides are sweaty.

You look around for a car. “Wait. How did you get here?”

Yoongi sets his mouth into a thin line.

“You… you ran here?” you ask.

Yoongi shrugs.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “What the hell?”

“I wasn’t thinking. I just… took off,” Yoongi admits sheepishly.

You look up at him, and you kiss him softly. “I can’t believe you ran here.”

He runs a hand through your hair. “What happened? Last night, everything was fine, and then...?”

You explain how you fell asleep in Mr. Kang’s office as you walk him upstairs and make him some coffee, pouring the mug that was meant for Jae out in the sink and starting anew. Jungkook starts the story all over again after he gets done with his shower, describing how he woke to find Jin and Unnie freaking out in the living room, before leaving for his scheduled route for the day. And Unnie starts the story all over again when she and Jin get back with some breakfast tacos.

“I woke up to use the bathroom, but I felt like something was off,” Unnie says. “I went into your bedroom and saw Jungkook sleeping. But there was no trace of you. No call. No text. No note.”

“Would it have killed you to leave a note?” Yoongi half-jokes.

“Now you know how I felt,” you mutter, and Yoongi smirks.

“Then I woke Jin up,” Unnie goes on.

“Whining and nearly in tears,” Jin adds.

Unnie frowns. “I just wanted to find you,” she says, looking back at you. “Make sure nothing happened to you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I really just didn’t mean to…”

You think about how trite the words are now. And you’re confused at how dramatic everyone, especially Unnie, is being. But then you realize that most of the things that have gone wrong, while not your fault entirely, could have been managed better had you just communicated.

“I really didn’t mean to make everyone worry,” you finish. “I really am so, so sorry.”

Jin polishes off the last of the breakfast tacos. “As long as you’re OK,” he says, dusting his hands over his plate and standing to stretch.

You clear the table, insisting that Jin sit back down and start relaxing. After all, this is supposed to be a vacation of sorts for them.

You figure that now’s as good a time as any to give Unnie and Jin a tour of the studios, and Yoongi agrees. Now that his meetings are over, the rest of the day is kind of open. He texts Namjoon and Hobi as you, Jin, and Unnie get ready. After a quick check-in at Mr. Kang’s store, you all pile into Jin’s car, and he drives you over.

As Unnie and Jin chat with Yoongi, you watch the sidewalks rushing past you. You imagine Yoongi chasing them, trying to get to you.

When you look over at him, both of you cuddled together in the back seat, he wonders why you’re staring at him with such care and intensity.

Yoongi signs them in and shows them around each floor as if it’s just an ordinary office. Unnie and Jin are too busy gawking to catch everything that he’s saying. You remember the same, awed feeling from when you stopped by for what you thought was your one and only visit.

Eventually, you make your way to the top floor, and Yoongi leads you into the studio.

Namjoon and Hobi are mixing some new tracks, smiling excitedly when you show up. They turn the music down, hug you warmly, and introduce themselves to Jin and Unnie.

“Is that you singing?” Unnie asks, listening to the song.

You smile and nod. “But it’s just a rough demo,” you explain.

“I don’t even know what that really means,” Jin says.

So you do a bit of show and tell, which allows you to do a bit of work, too. You get into the booth and work on some of the notes that the team has made. Change the vocal here. Add an effect there. Yoongi narrates as the team works, and each time he turns to you, you smile warmly at him, grateful for the chance to get to show Unnie what you’ve been crafting.

As evening draws closer, you start to finalize the plans for the rest of the day. Unnie and Jin decide to take in some of the city sights as you finish up work, and you decide to check in about dinner plans later.

While you finish work, you recount the entire Jae saga to Namjoon and Hobi, whose surprisingly strong reactions bring you comfort.

“I hate that for you,” Namjoon admits. “But it’s a good thing you guys were busy. Jimin came by again.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “What does he want us to do? We literally have no decision-making power.”

“He just keeps saying that he wants to talk,” Hobi replies.

You get that same feeling about pasts catching up to you, and you remember Unnie’s wise words. That sometimes, when they do, you can learn something from them.

“Maybe you should talk to him,” you offer cautiously.

The trio stares at you, bug-eyed.

“Look, I just had my version of Jimin storm his way into my life, and I kinda feel like I was able to make peace with the whole thing,” you say, casually glossing over the fact that you have sent him home with a box of used erotic paraphernalia. “Or, at least, part of it,” you add, at the risk of being too disingenuous.

Yoongi pouts and thinks. “Mm.”

Namjoon and Hobi wait to get his take, but it doesn’t come just yet.

“I guess we’ll see how things unfold,” he replies.

With seemingly no update to the plan, Namjoon and Hobi go back to work, as Yoongi stands and looks over at you.

“Speaking of things unfolding,” Yoongi replies, as Namjoon and Hobi exchange knowing and happy glances, “come with me. I have news for you.”

You raise your eyebrows and take Yoongi’s outstretched hand.

You follow him into one of the board rooms that are reserved for meetings between management and full-time employees. Yoongi pulls out a chair at the head of the table, and you just stare at it.

“Have a seat,” Yoongi laughs.

“I don’t think that chair is meant for me.”

“Well, I pulled it out for you.”

You awkwardly fall into the seat. You feel like you don’t belong. You feel like it will crunch its metal around you and pull you into the floor if you linger too long. But the room just stays a room.

Yoongi grins. “One sec.”

But you grab his hand before he can leave you.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you say, your heart starting to pump furiously. “Is this… is this good news or bad news?”

“If it were bad news, we wouldn’t have reserved this big of a meeting room,” Yoongi points out.

“Well, if it’s good news, can you just tell me what it is now so that I can play it cool in a minute when you bring the suits in?” you ask nervously.

Yoongi bends down and kisses you sweetly. “One sec.”

He leaves the room, and you tie and re-tie your fingers into knots, wringing your hands as you wait.

Yoongi comes back with an assistant, Sejin and the CEO, Si-hyuk. You’ve seen Sejin a million times and like his friendly, quiet, but open personality. Si-hyuk, though, you’ve never officially met.

He’s one of the suits that the trio keeps refers to, but he isn’t wearing anything of the sort. It’s weird to see a man worth billions wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. He grins and holds his hand out to you.

“Bang Si-hyuk,” he replies, “Big Hit CEO.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, stunned, and making the three men laugh.

You clumsily introduce yourself, and Si-hyuk makes everyone laugh again when he tells you, “Yeah. I know.”

You, Yoongi, and Si-hyuk all settle into your seats, though you check one more time to make sure Si-hyuk doesn’t want to sit at the head of the table.

Sejin sets a thick stack of papers in front of you before joining you at the table.

The word “CONTRACT” leaps out at you from the top of the page.

You freeze, and you do your best to listen.

“We’ve been really impressed with what you and our magic trio here have created so far,” Si-hyuk says, glancing at Yoongi. “We want you to keep making it.”

You try your best not to cry.

“It’s… There’s…” you croak, staring at the stack.

“There’s a ton of details, yes, but the big picture is simple,” Sejin says. “Your current role as a contractor places a ton of limits on what you can and can’t do. Barring any illegal or troubling circumstances, this contract, for this full-time position, gives you freedom.”

You know Sejin said words. You know you heard them. You still don’t know what any of it means.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” you admit.

Si-hyuk grins. “Take a few days to look at these initial terms. And, please, don’t sign anything right now. We’d like to set up another appointment with you and our lawyers to go line by line. You can also invite your own legal counsel.”

You scan through the pages. You feel like you’ve never seen so much paper. And you work at a stationery store.

Something else catches your eye though.

You notice that this is a contract for a producer/songwriter.

Not a performer.

You know that you should be happy. You know that this is technically a dream come true. There are floors and floors just under your feet, packed with trainees and interns and contractors who would have signed that contract with their blood, even under Si-hyuk’s specific direction not to.

But the part of you that brought you here, to this city, is aching. You’re starting to crumble. The canceled lounge gig feels like it’s rotting in the pit of your stomach, cancerous and deadly as it spreads throughout your entire body. As it poisons your entire career.

You want to blame Jae. You want to blame Yoongi. But you put the blame on yourself. Another mistake made on a whim in some shitty bar. What you thought was going to be a whirlwind of success is just another arrow sent and lost.

Another broken, jagged shard.

You plaster on a smile, and tears start to come to your eyes.

“She really is speechless,” Sejin chuckles.

“I love this part of the job,” Si-hyuk says, looking over at Sejin and Yoongi. Sejin grins happily and agrees, but Yoongi knows something’s up.

Si-hyuk stands and claps you on the shoulder. “Thank you for all of your hard work so far. And I hope I’m not being too forward in welcoming you to the family,” he tells you, as he and Sejin leave you and Yoongi to chat, Sejin whispering a warm “congratulations!” to you before he closes the door.

Yoongi stares at you from one chair away. It feels simultaneously too far, yet way too close.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

“Tell me,” he says. “Please. Whatever it is.”

The anger starts to bubble up in you. You’re feeling cagey. You don’t know where it’s coming from, if it’s seeing Jae, or feeling like you’re losing control, or Yoongi suddenly not being able to understand you.

“It’s just…” You sigh. “I packed up my entire life, and I had this idea of where it was going. And I’ve done everything you’re supposed to, everything that I can think of, to realize that vision.”

“Isn’t this that vision?” Yoongi asks, and your heart twinges at the slight tone of disbelief. “I don’t understand. How does this fall short?”

You take a deep breath. “Well… it’s for a production role.”

“Yeah, and?”

You feel irritated at the way he says it. It feels like the early days, when he would storm into Mr. Kang’s store and start the day by dismissing you.

“I’ve just always wanted to be on the stage, not behind it,” you find yourself saying, and even you have to admit that you sound so ungrateful.

Yoongi’s eyes soften in a way that you’ve only seen in your apartment, under the covers, huddled together in your own world.

“You’re amazing onstage. I fell for you, watching you onstage.”

You grin slightly, and you start to feel those amazing, trademark Yoongi tingles spread throughout your skin.

“But,” he adds, “maybe this is better.”

The grin disappears from your face as quick as it came. “How do you know that it’s better?”

“Well, I mean, this way, you control the execution, but you aren’t fully attached to it,” he explains. “None of those responsibilities. None of that pressure.”

“I want the responsibility,” you say. “I like the pressure. And, just to be clear, you don’t get to decide what’s better for me.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t know what that side of it is like, and I do,” Yoongi says. “The responsibility and pressure will change you. In some ways, for the better. In most ways, for worse.”

You huff. You try to find other ways to say what you want to say. “Are you seriously doing this right now?”

“Doing what?”

“Attempting to produce my career. Bossing me around. Telling me what to do,” you say.

You desperately try to calm the raging chorus in your mind. Your heart tells you not to reach out for the contract, but unfortunately, your brain controls your muscles.

You hold up the contract. “I mean, the recording booth is one thing. But this?” Your eyes flash up at him. “Did you arrange this deal? Did you tell them what to offer me?”

And then you let it fall with a thump!, as if it were some unimportant thing. Like junk mail. Or trash.

The thump wakes Yoongi up, and he snorts through his nose. “What’s gotten into you?”

“You don’t own me,” you blurt out.

“I’m not trying to,” Yoongi insists. “There’s a way onwards and upwards here. I don’t understand not taking advantage of it because it doesn’t look exactly the way you wanted it to.”

You nod. You take a deep breath through your nose. Exhale out your mouth. It helps. You feel less like a runaway train.

“OK. Point taken. Si-hyuk did say that there’s room to add my own terms. There’s time to get it right.”

“Now, well, I didn’t say that,” Yoongi replies.

Your eyes meet his again. Questioning.

“I just mean that I wouldn’t push,” he explains.

Your eyes narrow. “Maybe you wouldn’t. But I fully intend to.”

“That’d be a mistake,” Yoongi says, his voice low.

You shake your head and scoff. “You really are trying to control me, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” Yoongi protests, getting upset now. “But I am trying to advise you. To save you from the grief. I’ve seen this happen before. Trust me. I know.”

You can’t bite your tongue any longer. “To save me from the grief? Or to save yourself?”

“Huh?” Yoongi asks, blinking at you.

“Are you never going to get over Jimin?” you demand. “You don’t want to talk to him and work your shit out. That’s fine. But are you just going to let him seep into everything else in your life?”

Yoongi furrows his brow. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you’re expecting me to grovel at your feet and follow you blindly into this admittedly amazing opportunity, but one that takes my entire life in a different direction than I maybe want it to,” you reply. “This is my career. My future.”

Yoongi’s hands curl into fists.

Fists that used to clutch your hair, or your sheets, but are now squeezing your heart.

“We’ve been talking about building something together. This is our future. But the moment Jae shows up ‘randomly’---”

He throws up air quotes with gnarled fingers, and you start to seethe.

“---suddenly, you’re disappearing randomly without telling people, or straight up lying about where you are. It’s like you’ve reverted into some weird, selfish state.”

“Oh, I’m being selfish?” you scoff. “When it’s my life? When it’s my choice to make?”

“You know, since you keep on bringing up Jimin, you should know that you sound exactly like him,” Yoongi replies. “Talking only about you. Worrying only about you.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re treating me the same way you treated him,” you point out.

“That’s over and done, just like things were supposed to be with Jae,” Yoongi says defiantly. “What is with your weird obsession with Jimin?”

“What’s with your weird obsession with Jae?” you fight back. “You must have really loved it all. The drama. That dick measuring contest at the restaurant. The panicked texts you got from everyone the next morning.”

You roll your eyes.

“You always say that you’re so willing to help, but the truth is that you only want to help on your terms.”

And then you scoff. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Of course you don’t believe that him showing up was anything more than Unnie’s bad judgment.”

“You seemed pretty happy to see him off,” Yoongi mumbles.

You don’t even know how to begin to explain that stupid smile from that stupid prank. And, anyway, you’re too enraged to deviate from this fight.

“You think I wanted to see him again, after everything he did? Why do you think I moved away in the first place?”

Yoongi opens his mouth as if to say something.

But then he just shrugs.

You jump to your feet. “I shouldn’t have come.”

Yoongi sighs. He stands and rubs his eyes. “You’re right. Go spend time with your family. Think things over.”

“I meant that I shouldn’t have come that day.” You mock his slick producer voice. “10 AM. Bring that guitar.” You hate that it’s about to come out, and then you say, “Maybe I shouldn’t have come to this city at all.”

You storm out the door. You can’t believe that as talented and perfect a duo as you and Yoongi are, you weren’t able to keep out the cold. You can’t believe you weren’t able to outrun your pasts.

Yet another failure to add to your record.

The only record you’ll ever make.

When you race home and spend the rest of Unnie and Jin’s trip stewing, you don’t spare a thought about what Yoongi’s up to. You put in a couple of shifts at the store, and Unnie and Jin hang around with you, Jungkook, and Mr. Kang. You catch them up on the continued, painful freezeout between Antiques Store Guy and Candle Shop Lady. Jin and Jungkook race each other at the rock wall at the gym. You even take them all to dinner with Namjoon and Hobi the night before they’re set to leave.

As your Unnie hugs you goodbye, you find it upsettingly ironic that you don’t want her to go. You still feel so crummy.

“I know things will work out,” she reassures you, hugging you again, rubbing and squishing your cheeks with the palms of her hands.

“How do you know?” you ask, your voice slightly altered and muffled from the way she’s playing with your face. “You came here so worried, and you’re telling me that you’re leaving completely convinced that I’ll be OK?”

Jin’s loading their luggage into the back, and from the way he’s gently placing the suitcases down, you know that Jin is trying to eavesdrop on your conversation.

Unnie glances over at Jin, confident that she knows exactly what to say to help you through.

“I worried before because I couldn’t see it for myself,” she tells you.

“See what?”

“How open you are now,” Unnie tells you wisely. “To new places. New people. New paths.” She kisses you on the cheek, and then she wipes her lipstick away with her thumb. “I’m not worried about you anymore.”

You hug her again, squeezing your eyes tight, and she laughs. And then you hear the car door slam shut, followed by quick footsteps. Two long arms encircle the both of you and hold you close, and sweet kisses pepper both of your faces. You open your eyes and share a meaningful look with Unnie as you both nestle against Jin’s strong frame.

As Unnie and Jin get in the car and cheer a million more goodbyes, Jin calls out, “Tell Jungkook I’m coming back for that rematch!”

As you go on with your day, and the days after that, it’s admittedly weird to not think about Yoongi. To not wonder what he’s eaten that day. To not roll over in bed and see his face to gauge how well he’s sleeping.

To not know whether or not he’s wearing his beanie.

It’s even weirder to focus on anyone else because whenever anyone sees you, they’re thinking about Yoongi. You’re only having half-conversations with people, their minds actively working out how to navigate around topics or stories that might prompt his mention.

The hardest ones are the half-conversations with Mr. Kang, whose lonely eyes still peer out the window with hope, and whose ears still listen for the unmistakably unique clang!ing of the brass bell. You’d fall apart if he faulted you, but when you open up to him and tell him what happened, he shakes his head sady and says, “Just like his grandfather.”

Even if you did know what Yoongi were up to, you wouldn’t believe it.

You wouldn’t believe, for instance, that he’s taken up the exhausting practice of walking home after work, every night, trying to get his mind off of you.

Yoongi has the opposite problem that you have. Now, every insignificant moment of his stupid life is tortured by your memory. When he’s working on other artists’ music, he can only hear your voice in the vocals. When he goes shopping, he only sees you at the cash register. And when he walks home, all the other people on the street have your face.

He’s always had the problem of his past lingering.

And that isn’t more evident than when Yoongi arrives home to find a familiar pair of shoes, scuffed at the toe from a game of basketball, nervously pacing outside of his apartment building.

Yoongi’s eyes rise to see Jimin in a pair of his sweats from high school, bundled up with scarves, face hidden, Chanel sunglasses covering his eyes at nearly midnight.

Jimin stops when he sees Yoongi.

For a while, all they can do is stare at each other.

“Drinks?” Jimin finally asks. “Or, y’know. Whatever?”

For once, Yoongi’s too tired to protest. And he hears your voice, telling him to listen.

“Where?”

Jimin looks around. He hadn’t thought that far. And then he nods over to a nearby convenience store.

They cross the street, looking both ways and running to beat an oncoming car. They stride through the chiming sliding doors, waking up the sleeping night manager. Yoongi picks out a couple of iced coffees and a pack of cigarettes. Jimin picks out a bag of chips and some sour gummy worms.

They pile their selections on the counter, and Yoongi reaches into his back pocket for his wallet.

Jimin beats him and absent-mindedly pulls out his black card.

“Really?” Yoongi asks, laughing in spite of himself.

Jimin looks down and doesn’t understand at first. He takes off his Chanel sunglasses, and then he giggles. He searches through his wallet and pulls out a different card, one he hasn’t used in a while.

An old bus pass falls out.

Yoongi catches sight of it, and Jimin scoops it up as he collects their treats.

They walk outside, and they sit on the curb, a Namjoon-and-Hobi-sized space between them.

“You still have that thing?” Yoongi asks, as Jimin puts his bus pass away.

“It still has credits on it,” Jimin says directly. Straightforward. Practical. Rooted in the belief that purpose outweighs the passage of time.

The shoes. The sweats. The bus pass. Yoongi wonders if the Jimin he misses hasn’t really gone away.

Jimin hands him a coffee and sets the snacks between them. Yoongi lights up a cigarette as Jimin tears into the sour gummy worms.

“I thought you quit,” Jimin says, pulling on the candy with his teeth.

Yoongi breathes out a cloud of smoke. It mixes with the fog of his breath and expands its tendrils into the night air. He thinks of the way your hair stretches across your pillowcase when you’re sleeping.

“I only smoke when I’m stressed,” Yoongi replies.

“I frustrate you that much?” Jimin asks, partly shocked, and kind of annoyed.

Yoongi shrugs. “Not the only one.”

Jimin sighs. “We’re all stressed, Yoongi.”

“Bet that black card helps, though.”

“First Hobi and Joon. Now you. Everything’s always about money, isn’t it?”

The way Jimin says it is less accusatory than it has been of late. Less accusatory, and more disappointed.

Defeated, even.

“You know we don’t have a say in the legal proceedings,” Yoongi repeats. “I get that it’s all a waste for you, but we really don’t have any power over---”

“I know,” Jimin says, a sour gummy worm hanging out of his mouth and resting against his lip as he looks into the distance. Something weighs on his mind. Something fierce.

Finally, Yoongi asks, “What is it?”

Jimin gobbles up the sour gummy worm and chews contemplatively. He knew that if he made it all the way to Yoongi’s apartment building, and if he got Yoongi to pay attention to him for even five minutes, he would have to tell him. He wonders if it would have been more or less painful to tell him when it was happening, and then he realizes that stalling isn’t going to help however painful it’s about to be.

“I stole our songs… your songs… because of my parents.”

Jimin turns to face Yoongi head-on.

Yoongi does the same.

“They got caught up in some crazy shit,” Jimin goes on. “Loan sharks. Gangs. It all got blown way out of proportion, and they defaulted on their loans. Their payments skyrocketed. People were starting to come to the house. Make calls. Threats. They took everything. Their car. Their house. I had to make a big move. But you guys were focusing on the artistry. You were doing your job, but it was all going too slowly. Taking too much time.”

He sighs.

“It’s a strange thing to have to see your parents… beg.”

And then he goes on.

“So I started shopping around, and I finally struck a deal. If I brought the songs with me, they’d give me the money we needed. So I did. And they did.”

It actually makes sense, Yoongi thinks. All the anger. The sassy, icy front. Jimin had to lie. If anyone from the label had found out that Jimin had gotten into some kind of illegal trouble, it would have nulled his contract completely. There isn’t any room for troubling circumstances. Not when investments are this big.

“But why didn’t you tell us?” Yoongi asks, his heart breaking. All of their ridiculous, flippant comments. Pride for no reason. Pride for pride’s sake. “We could have helped. We could have---”

“We didn’t want to tell people,” Jimin interrupts, his chest feeling heavy at the thought of Yoongi, Namjoon, and Hobi making any kind of sacrifices on his behalf.

“We aren’t just people,” Yoongi reminds him.

“I know,” Jimin says meaningfully.

Yoongi swallows hard. He watches carefully as Jimin wipes at his eyes.

“And then we were fighting,” Jimin continues.

“Mm.”

“I have to admit,” Jimin says, “that most of why I fought with you was because of my personal shit. But part of why I fought with you, even before then, was because I did feel stifled sometimes. It all started to get twisted in my brain. I just hate the feeling of not being in control.”

Yoongi nods. Even Jimin’s voice sounds like yours now.

“I couldn’t tell you about all the other shit,” Jimin goes on, “but I certainly didn’t mean to take it all out on you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Yoongi replies flatly.

Jimin’s eyes threaten to overflow with tears, but Yoongi raises his eyebrows and adds, “I mean that it doesn’t matter anymore. Now that things are OK.” Yoongi looks over at him. “Things are OK, right?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Jimin replies, relieved. “Things are OK.”

“Good.”

He drags on his cigarette. Jimin watches him thoughtfully. He knows that though things are on the mend, Yoongi’s mind is still working.

“You said there were other things that were stressing you out,” Jimin remembers.

Yoongi raises the back of his beanie and scratches at the base of his head before taking another drag of his cigarette.

“The girl?” Jimin asks.

Yoongi thinks of you at Mr. Kang’s store. The Stationery Girl.

Yoongi shrugs.

“Damn,” Jimin says, still able to tell the difference between each of Yoongi’s shrugs. A quick one means it’s not a big deal. A half-hearted one means that he’s disappointed. An uneven one, like the one that Yoongi’s just done, means that he’s broken in two.

Jimin reaches for the chips and starts to pull on the chip bag to open it. “Is it like it was with Yaeji?” He relaxes a bit. “I heard that you had broken up, but I---”

“Don’t.”

Yoongi suddenly casts a glance so icy and stunning that Jimin startles and nearly rips the chip bag apart.

Jimin clearly doesn’t understand Yoongi’s reaction, and it’s enough for Yoongi to question everything.

“Was that part of it, too?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin furrows his brow. “Yaeji?”

“Yeah.”

“A part of…” Jimin still can’t quite comprehend. “Part of what, exactly?”

Yoongi sighs. This had to happen sometime. If he and Jimin could ever get through a conversation about what took place between them, he would have to ask. He would have to know.

“I came by to talk to you after you…. well, after everything went down,” Yoongi explains. “I saw Yaeji there. She was…”

Yoongi still hates thinking about it. But not because of Yaeji.

It’s because when Yoongi thinks of the memory, he sees you there instead. Purring through the lock. Calling him nicknames that had only been whispered between the two of you. Resting your body against the door. Twisting and turning with a need that only Yoongi had been able to satisfy.

Jimin shakes his head. “I don’t get it. Yaeji was at my apartment?”

“Yeah. She was looking for you.”

“Why?”

Yoongi takes a sip of his coffee. Smokes his cigarette. Eats a chip. Stalls for just a little longer.

“She broke up with me when I was late to our anniversary dinner that night,” Yoongi explains. “And then she went to yours. For…”

His eyes dart over to Jimin.

“For comfort.”

Jimin frowns. “None of us liked her, you know.”

“I know.”

“She hit on all of us. All the time. When you weren’t around.”

Yoongi isn’t surprised, but it still hurts to hear. “I know.” And then he softens. “I did care a lot about her, though. Especially in the beginning. When we first got together, and before you started blowing up, it was pretty good.”

Jimin remembers. “I didn’t know about her stopping by, though,” he’s quick to say. “At that point, I was staying with my parents at a hotel, helping them hide.”

Yoongi believes him. After all, Jimin’s door never opened. And, though it doesn’t matter anymore, Jimin never used Yaeji in all the nasty barbs that they traded. Jimin always goes for the jugular, and it wouldn’t have been his style to restrain himself.

“So then, the girl,” Jimin prompts.

Yoongi nods.

“Why are you so stressed about her?”

Yoongi looks at the sidewalk. He puts out his cigarette and sighs. Where does he start?

“I just don’t want to lose her like I lost you,” Yoongi chooses to say.

“You didn’t lose me,” Jimin replies. “In fact, you might’ve held on a little too tightly.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath, letting Jimin’s reflections wash over him. He gets the impulse to see you. To run to you again. To tell you that he’s sorry.

That he just wanted to help.

“Anyway,” Jimin replies, “it’s late. I just wanted to… to fill you in, I guess.”

They start gathering their things, throwing their trash away and ambling back over to Yoongi’s apartment. They look around at the bright city lights against the backdrop of navy blue sky. They serve as

“Why tell me now?” Yoongi asks, turning back to Jimin.

“Things really are OK,” Jimin replies, as they start gathering their things. “I’ve been thinking about it, and, well, even with the lawsuits going on, I actually do have enough money to make sure my parents are taken care of. Honestly, I was swinging by to explain and… and to say that I won’t be swinging by anymore.”

“Mm.”

Yoongi watches sadly as Jimin pauses by the nearby sign for the cross-town bus, teetering on the curb, and seemingly checking the oncoming headlights, just like he used to do when he was a kid.

And then, Yoongi smirks.

“The Park Jimin took the bus here?”

Jimin shrugs and smiles. “I told you. My pass still has credits on it.”

Yoongi laughs. “I can’t believe you still have that bus pass,” he says. “And those sweats. And those shoes.”

“I can’t believe you still have that beanie.”

Yoongi laughs softly, and then he looks up at Jimin. “Do you remember how I got this beanie?”

Jimin shakes his head, still giggling.

“You bought it for me,” Yoongi says. “You saved up your allowance, and you bought it for me. For my birthday.” He looks at the ground bashfully. “It was the first present any friend ever bought me.”

Jimin’s eyes shine. Then they sparkle. And then they overflow, as Yoongi relents and pulls him into a hug.

“I’m really sorry,” Jimin whispers.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Yoongi replies.

They pull apart and shake hands as the cross-town bus approaches.

And as Jimin replaces his scarf and Chanel sunglasses, swiping his bus pass in the card reader, Yoongi calls out to him.

“See you again soon?”

Jimin smiles so brightly that Yoongi feels like he’s the one who needs sunglasses.

You look at the DJ hopefully.

“Sorry, Boss,” he tells you sadly.

You like that your nickname is spreading. But you hate that you’re being told that you’ve gone another week without Yoongi showing up for your gig.

After you pack your guitar up and head over to Jungkook’s table, a waiter swings by with a drink.

“Great set, as always!” Jungkook exclaims, pressing a kiss to your temple. He frowns, though, when he sees your expression. “He didn’t show?”

You shake your head.

Jungkook sighs.

“Diner?”

“Yes, please,” you say, disappointed.

You should be excited that you have to fight through the crowd to get to the door. You’ve become somewhat of a local celebrity, and all sorts of new people are coming to see you. Suran, for one. Seeing her is a bit painful, though, because she gives you regular updates on the work that she and Yoongi are doing to adapt your vocals.

You don’t already know what they’re doing because you and Yoongi are taking work in the studio in shifts. He leaves before you get there. He makes sure you’re gone before he comes back. Hobi and Namjoon don’t really take issue with these changes, as they don’t really feel the impact. But they do tell you every evening that every shift feels incomplete.

Jungkook listens as you share all of this with him over bacon, eggs, pancakes, and two chocolate milkshakes.

“Well, what about the contract?” he asks. “Are you still dissatisfied with the terms?”

“We’re still going through it with the legal team, and Unnie is helping me,” you say. “But all that’s fine. It’s not even really about that anymore.”

“Then what is it?” Jungkook asks.

You try not to sob when you admit it.

“I really fucked up, Jungkook.”

His jaw slows, and he carefully swallows his food. “What do you mean?”

The diner is quiet tonight. There’s a long-haul trucker drinking coffee in the back corner. A couple of waitresses are divvying up tips at the register. The cooks are talking in the back. They’ve all probably forgotten that you’re even here, but you still wish that something else were happening, something that could pull focus from your regrets.

“He won’t take my calls,” you say. “He won’t answer my texts.” You sigh. “He hasn’t been by to see Mr. Kang. He won’t even add my notes to our work. Namjoon and Hobi do all of that.”

Jungkook frowns. He looks like he’s about to say something in your defense, but you stop him.

“And I fully deserve it,” you say.

He sinks in his seat as you talk about your past. How this is definitely karma for every muted notification and blocked number. For every changed address with no corresponding change-of-address card sent to your friends.

“You don’t deserve it,” Jungkook persists. “But I can appreciate the empathy you feel. That’s a good thing, right?”

“I’m a musician, Jungkook. All I have is empathy.” You bonk! your head on the table, and the silverware rattles. “I want Yoongi.”

“So go get him,” he says, grinning.

“How?” you ask. “He won’t see me!”

“That’s not true,” Jungkook replies, reaching out for your hand. “You just haven’t seen him.”

“Huh?”

“Where have you been, for him to see you?” he asks. “Your gig. Your store. Your studio shift. Your apartment.” He raises his eyebrows. “You see what I’m saying, Boss?”

And then you realize why you’re even having this conversation with Jungkook. He drops what he’s doing when he’s called. He punches attackers. He carries people’s banners.

“You’re so right,” you say. “I’m terrible at this,” you add, hiding your eyes.

Jungkook nudges your leg with the toe of his Timbs. “Nah. It’s just harder to see it when you’re in it, is all.”

He walks you home and even offers to stay if you want him to. But you shake your head and tell him that you’ll see him in the morning.

You’re done wallowing and hiding.

You’re done running away from things.

You’d like to try running toward things instead.

You set your guitar down and pull your phone out from your coat pocket, pacing and fiddling with a stray thread at the hem of your red miniskirt as it rings.

“H-hello?” Hobi asks sleepily. When he speaks again, he sounds a little further away, and you imagine him squinting at his phone screen. “Boss Lady?”

“I’m sorry, Hobi. I just wanted to get Yoongi’s address,” you say.

You can hear Hobi smile over the phone. He texts it to you and says, “It’s a good thing you called me instead of Namjoon. He’s slept through fire alarms before.”

You laugh. “Thanks, Hobi. Go back to sleep.”

He hums. “Send me a text when you get there so that I know you’re safe.”

Your rideshare driver seems safe enough. Pleasant hellos and goodbyes. They echo Hobi’s reminder to be careful. And they stay parked until you’ve made it into the lobby of the building.

You search for Yoongi’s number, and you gawk at how fancy the place is. You take the elevator up to the top floor, and you wonder if there’s any reason that Yoongi likes to be that high up. You suspect something practical, like limiting the amount of noise by eliminating any upstairs neighbors.

But you also wouldn’t be surprised if Yoongi just likes to be on top.

You knock on his door, and when there’s no answer, you know that you’re probably in for a long wait. Yoongi’s most definitely at the studio, and if he’s feeling any fraction of the turmoil that you’re feeling, he’s processing it through his work.

It takes hours. You leave for coffee and come back, and he still isn’t home.

Then, as you start to get so drowsy that you might fall asleep, you hear the elevator doors open. You jump to your feet, smoothing your clothes, straightening yourself up, trying to keep your nerve but failing desperately when you notice that you’re shaking.

Yoongi keeps his eyes on the ground, plodding along, his cheeks flushed from the walk. And then he realizes he’s not alone.

He looks up at you, and his eyes widen under the rim of his beanie.

You raise your eyebrows.

He walks up to you, standing just in front of his door.

“It’s late,” he says.

“Too late?” you ask worriedly.

He looks into your eyes and licks his lips.

But then he shies away.

He pulls off his beanie and tousles his hair as he turns his attention to his door, pulling out his keys and unlocking it, leading you inside.

You aren’t sure what to expect.

So you tally up the details into things that you expected, and things that are surprising.

What you expected, for instance, is how dark Yoongi keeps his apartment.

What is surprising, though, is that he brings light into the room by lighting candles. After he sets his backpack on a hook on the wall, and does the same with both of your coats after you slip them off, he kicks off his shoes and walks from candle to candle. One on the entryway table. One on the kitchen counter. Three in the living room. Two, one on either side of the TV. And one on his desk, a mini-control room for a mini-studio really, smaller and older drum machines and keyboards hooked up neatly to his desktop. There’s a small ashtray next to his 808s, and he dumps the used matchsticks there, along with some cigarette butts and an old roach of a joint.

He turns around.

You smile. “So, this is you.”

“This is me.”

He stands there and looks at you, shoving his hands into his pockets and biting his lip, unsure of what to do next.

“What do you normally do next?” you ask, reading his mind.

Yoongi’s eyes linger on you, and then he turns around, wiggling the mouse at his computer and waking up his screen, which is kept quite dim. He plays a song, and the sound starts to play through speakers hooked up throughout the living area.

The slow neo-soul swaddling you makes you take notice of the rest of the room that you couldn’t see before.

What you expected is that Yoongi would keep his furniture sparse and purposeful. What is surprising is how effortlessly stylish everything is. Clean lines. Easy colors. Classic standbys with a modern twist.

Comfortable.

Friendly.

“Have you heard this one yet?” Yoongi asks. “It’s been getting some play on the radio.”

“I have,” you say, smiling and nodding. “I thought of you when I heard the tremolo on the vibes. I’ve had it on repeat for a week straight.”

Yoongi grins, and you start to melt. You’ve missed talking shop with him.

“Then what?” you ask.

“Um…” Yoongi looks at the kitchen area, which you’re standing close to. “I get some water.”

You kick off your shoes and walk over to the doorless shelves that house his tableware. You pluck a couple of glasses from one of the shelves and smile to yourself as you go to the sink. Even Yoongi’s kitchen bares its soul for all to see.

You join him in the living room, handing him a glass.

You lock eyes as you drink.

“And then what?” you ask softly.

Yoongi sits down on the couch and leans back. He closes his eyes and leans his head on the couch cushions, taking a deep breath and growling his breath out, exhausted from his long day, and his long walk home.

You mimic his body, and he looks at you and laughs.

“Why are you copying me?”

You grin. “Just getting a feel for things.”

Yoongi sits up and looks at you seriously. “Is that why you’re here?”

Coming down from the initial high that you got when you first saw him, you start to remember what it is that you wanted to say.

“I’m here to apologize,” you reply. “I’m so sorry that I blew up at you like that. I’m so sorry for what I said. I was being so, so stupid.”

Yoongi takes in your words, but before he can respond, you go on.

“I’ve been so selfish for so long,” you say. “I guess it’s because I’ve been on my own for so long. Even when I was dating someone, I was fiercely independent. I don’t like the idea of surrendering that. I don’t like the idea of losing myself.”

You inch closer to him, and you notice, just barely, that his breath starts to quicken.

“But you’ve helped me not to fear it,” you say, your voice almost rumbling. “You’ve shown me that there are other, better things that I can get lost in.”

You inch even closer to him, touching him now. He sighs as you nestle into him, keeping his arms open as you curl up against him, running your hand across his chest. You press a kiss at his collarbone, and he groans.

His arm finds its way around you, as you keep running your hand across his chest, stroking him gently, reminding him what it feels like to have you near.

“I’m lost in you every day,” he tells you, his voice small but warm, like the flames that dance around the wicks of his candles.

“I miss you,” you tell him, the ache in your voice evident.

You run your hand down to his stomach now, dancing around the waistband of his jeans and making him buck his hips a little.

“Take me back?”

Yoongi laughs. His other arm wraps around you, pulling you close.

“I never wanted to let you go in the first place.”

What you expected is that Yoongi would have something brilliant to say. What is surprising is that every time he says something brilliant, it comes with such force. You look up at him, and he’s gazing at you with such care that you feel like there’s been a mistake. Surely all that affection can’t be for you. It’s too much for any one person to receive.

You kiss, and you drown in it, the ache in your voice and heart and bones washing away in the current, the anxious grinding of your minds being replaced by your tongues and lips gently meeting, like waves lapping against the shore.

The heat starts to rise within you, and you move so that you straddle him. He grunts when you press yourself against him, and he sucks in his breath when you start to move. His hands latch themselves onto your ass, and then under your skirt, and then dipping into your tights, his fingers sliding the nylon down your skin.

Yoongi pulls away and looks into your eyes.

“I can’t do that again, OK?” Yoongi tells you desperately. “It hurt me badly, breaking up with Yaeji. Which means it’d hurt so much more with you.”

“Then let’s focus on the staying together part,” you say, pressing kisses against his jawline, landing again on his lips and nibbling on them.

He nudges your cheek with his nose to free your mouth from him, and then he reconnects with you, kissing you deeply. His tongue dances around inside of you, and you start to squirm in anticipation of feeling it dance elsewhere. At this, Yoongi chuckles, and moans, his hands starting to find their way into your folds.

You break your kiss to let out a whimper. Yoongi’s wrist rests between your ass cheeks, and his long fingers are ghosting your pussy, making you shiver.

He sucks the flesh at your neck, biting as if he’s about to rip skin from bone.

“That feels so good,” you tell him.

“This?” he asks, using his fingers to put more pressure on your pussy. “Or this?” he asks, putting more pressure in the kisses at your neck.

“A-all of it,” you shudder. “It’s been so long.”

He licks a trail up from your neck to your ear.

“Did you try?” he growls. “Did you try without me?”

You nod desperately.

“Could you get there?”

You shake your head, sweat forming at your hairline. “I need you,” you whine. “Nothing feels right without you anymore.”

He grunts, and he picks you up. He sets you back down on your feet, and he kneels to slide his hand down your legs, bringing your tights with them. You step out of them, and he runs his hands up your soft, bare skin. He kisses your knees, and your thighs, climbing up to your panties and kissing your mound. It excites you, the prospect of him kissing you there without a soft, silk barrier between you.

Looking down, you see Yoongi’s head covered by your miniskirt. It ruffles as he turns his head, still running his hands over the fabric of your panties. “I like these,” he says curiously, as he traces the lace panels at your sides and pulls them down.

“Then why are you taking them off of me?” you giggle.

Yoongi escapes from under your skirt, his hair ruffled messily. He grins. “To keep them for myself.”

You laugh, and he tugs at your calves. As you step out of your underwear, you start to pull on your long-sleeved, black shirt.

“No, wait,” Yoongi says, stopping you. “I like to do that.”

You smile and think of Yoongi opening his first few packages with you as store manager.

He likes to do that.

You take a breath and remember that Yoongi likes to take his time. This is something that you can give him. You can give him as much time as he wants.

He ducks back down under your skirt, and you start to tingle all over as he licks at your moistening skin. He’s teasing you, whetting your appetite, and taking just a little bit of a taste for himself.

You moan, and he grabs your thighs, his clutch tighter the tighter you clench for him. He keeps working, massaging you with his tongue, staying to your outer folds, tracing the curves of your lips, and pressing his nose at the top of your pussy as he brings his tongue up to kiss your clit.

A hiss falls out of you, and he slaps your ass to make you squeal.

“More, please,” you beg, as he stands.

“I wanna see all of you,” Yoongi whispers.

You nod, and you bring his hands to your left hip, where the zipper for your miniskirt resides. You think of how he guided you during one of your early so-called sessions. You place your fingers on top of his and help him find the tiny zipper tab. You bring it down the track mesmerizingly slowly, the high-pitched sound of metal indicating just how dainty the zipper is. How taut the fabric is. How tight and delicate that entire part of your body is.

You release his fingers from you, and he watches the fabric slide down your body. Grunting at the gorgeous sight of you from the waist down, he tugs at the hem of your shirt and makes it known how urgently he wants to see you from the waist up.

Winding your hips, you guide Yoongi in slowly pulling your shirt above your head, twisting your torso to feel every inch of cotton glide across your skin. You pull your arms through the sleeves and your neck through the collar, and Yoongi sighs at the sight of your matching lace bra.

He doesn’t need a guide from here on out. He wants to explore, freeform, touching and teasing and tickling as his whims overtake him.

Your bra falls onto the floor, and as he slips his fingers just between your folds, Yoongi buries himself in your chest, bending you back and licking your skin, breathing it in, folding and slurping and sucking it between his lips and drenching your nipples in his drooling mouth. Your pussy floods in similar fashion, and he lets out a happy hum when your hole twitches, releasing some of your arousal, which drips down his knuckles.

You straighten and pull the hem of his shirt away from him like a billowing circus tent.

He laughs. “You want this off?”

You nod, so caught up in him that you can’t even talk.

He pulls off his shirt, kicks off his pants and boxers, and you’re pulled like a magnet to his frame.

What you expected was to burst with desire when you saw his naked body. What is always so deliciously surprising is the feeling of his skin on yours, the pleasure that just mere contact brings you, a sense of solace and satisfaction you’ve never felt anywhere else.

Yoongi holds you close and lays you down on the couch. He sets up camp at your pussy, and you let out the breath that you had been holding as he was crawling down your legs. You’ve been wondering when he would give this to you. Your hate that your time of utter bliss was cut short, and for whatever reason, that this hadn’t made the cut yet.

“I know you’ve been craving this,” he tells you, kissing your thighs. “I’ve so wanted to give it to you.”

You moan as he circles his tongue around your entrance.

“Get lost in it,” he tells you.

And then his tongue finally swims inside of your mound.

It starts by tracing your inner, plum lips, isolating them from their walls and making you warm. Your juices mix with his to make a sweet nectar that he can’t seem to get enough of. He paints you with it, drawing it into every crevice, every ruffle. He follows the streams to the skin surrounding the base of your clit, and he places pressure using the blade of his tongue to stimulate you there, sending low, warm heat waves throughout your body.

You expected your thighs tremble as he starts to move the tip of his tongue to the tip of your clit, stroking it the way he showed you how to with your fingers, with his fingers. But what is surprising is the way he wraps around you, sucking gently, milking you so excruciatingly slowly that you think you might lose your mind.

But you heed his words. You try to let yourself get lost in it.

“Mmm,” you moan, “that’s… oh…”

You start to circle your hips, and Yoongi follows you, just like he’ll follow wherever you’ll go.

“Ohh,” you moan louder, your hands rushing to cradle your breasts, fingers flicking your nipples.

Yoongi grunts at the sight of you letting loose. Letting go. Trusting him completely.

It was easier in a way, you realize, when you didn’t really know each other. If it hadn’t worked out, you could have easily cut ties and losses. You’re finding that when you skirt the edges of this kind of deeply permeating connection, it’s not only scary.

It’s so much better.

He starts to scrape his teeth lightly on the walls around your clit, and you spasm at the jolt of excitement. He tries it around the body of your clit, extremely careful, and it so wholly thrills you that your entire upper body starts to shake.

A chuckle escapes his throat, and you let out a pleasurable sigh, reaching down to stroke his disheveled hair.

He wraps his lips around your clit now, and you groan as you press your back into the couch, raising your hips into the air.

“Yoongi, fuck, that’s so good,” you gasp.

He keeps going, never changing his pace, and you think you’re close, until he presses his fingers into you. Two of them, and then three of them. They’ve gone so long without you around, and now they’re thrilled to be surrounded by you. They dig with excitement, finding your ridges and stroking them, your G spot somehow creating tears in your eyes and forcing them down your cheeks.

“So g-good,” you repeat, shivering.

“Good,” Yoongi moans into you, his breath warming you up.

You whine at the sensation, prompting memories of that first session.

Just when you think you cannot take any more, he picks up on your whine, and he flattens his tongue. He starts to move faster, press harder, get wetter. You cry out, losing yourself. Losing your words. Losing consciousness.

His jaw starts to move, adding strength to his motions. You’re almost thrashing, but his free arm lays across your hips like a safety bar, his arm flexing, his blue-hued veins like canals running through the alabaster streets of his skin.

Yoongi groans and winces, and you realize that you’ve lost his fingers. It’s because he’s gotten so tortuously hard watching and tasting you that it feels like his cock will explode. He can’t help himself any longer. He starts to pump his shaft, each of his squeezes helping to relieve just a bit of the pressure so that he can last.

What you expected was to have your itches scratched, your dreams realized, your needs met. What surprises you is how complete of an experience Yoongi aims to give you.

You’ve had Yoongi’s body fill you up before, but his tongue fills you up in both a physical and an existential way. You don’t just feel whole. You feel like you’ve found where you belong. Where you came from. Where you’ll go when you die.

You don’t just come. You come home.

As you try to catch your breath, Yoongi presses kisses around your still twitching lips, rubbing them with his nose, or his cheeks, to help soothe you. He mumbles things to you, but you only get fragments. How hungry he was for you. How good you taste.

Yoongi’s kisses start to travel up your body now, pausing at your chest before finding your mouth.

He starts to slide his cock into you, and you wrap your arms around him as he hovers over you and looks into your eyes.

He pauses when the tip is in.

He quivers.

“Fuck. My imagination couldn’t do you justice,” he sighs. “It’s even better than I remembered.”

You kiss him, and he slides deeper into you, but you counter him by hugging your walls around him, suffocating him in the best way possible.

“Shit,” he hisses.

“You like it?” you purr.

He can’t answer with words. He can only bend down and kiss you fervently, sliding into you a micrometer at a time, reveling in each sensational burst as he goes. As your hips get closer and closer to meeting, you plaster each other with bites and hickeys, kissing and blowing on them to soothe your skin. It’s so animalistic, how you’re marking each other, laying claim to one another’s bodies.

One last thrust, and Yoongi is fully inside of you, stretching you out and testing the limits of the strength of your walls. You try to ease your hold a little, but it’s like you’re locked in place. It feels too good to change anything, anyway.

He glides in and out of you, making sure that your lower bodies meet with considerable pressure, ensuring all previous points of arousal can participate.

After one particularly good stroke, your head bobs up, and Yoongi’s neck goes limp, skulls nearly crashing into one another.

“Again,” you whine.

Yoongi refocuses, and he holds his stance. He starts to fuck you harder with each thrust, and you fold your lips into themselves, biting on them to kep from screaming.

He leans forward a little, and he starts to fuck you even harder, still at the same pace. You shake your head and let out whimpers like breadcrumbs to keep your wits about you.

And then, he starts to speed up.

Your nails etch patterns into Yoongi’s back, ice skate trails over a frozen pond, deepening into red watercolors on a blank canvas. He moans as you create those beautiful patterns, setting his teeth on your shoulder and slightly pressing when you get him, and he gets you, just right.

You start to pump against him, and Yoongi’s eyes flash open worriedly.

“I’ll come right away if you do that,” he warns.

But you don’t stop. Because you want him to come.

You smile devilishly and nod, and Yoongi starts babbling confusing protests until he succumbs to how exquisite it all feels.

The light within you turns on again as you both writhe against each other, and you start to race toward that indelible, luscious rapture that you’ve built for each other time and time again.

Yoongi’s voice grows thin, and you know he’s close. You crane your neck up to kiss him, and as he mashes his lips and tongue against yours, he whispers urgently about how much he missed you. How much he cares for you. How incredible this is.

You see his eyes start to unfocus, and you tighten your walls one more time.

His orgasm comes first, a soft realization growing into a body-shaking, moan-inducing stroke forward and into you. Yours follows right after, a fireworks display in the middle of this pitch-black room, sparks and flashes and bolts of light casting their glow on everything around you.

You laugh as you come down from your high, and Yoongi helps to milk the aftershocks out of you by rubbing the outside of your pussy with the palm of his hand.

He lies on top of you, cheeks resting against each other as you both face the candles on either side of the TV.

Yoongi lets out a content sigh.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask, giggling.

“How happy I am that you’re here,” he answers. “What about you?”

You smile and say, “How happy I am that Hobi picked up the phone.”

Mr. Kang’s morning routine has been the same for almost fifty years.

He naturally wakes up between 6:00 and 6:30 AM. Before he does anything, he rolls over to smile at a still-sleeping Mrs. Kang, and he kisses her on the forehead. She adorably scrunches up her face, and he whispers, “Rise and shine, beautiful.”

After she curses at him for trying to wake her up so early, and then calling him handsome, she rolls over and squeezes a few more minutes of sleep while Mr. Kang washes up for the day.

By the time Mr. Kang is finished getting ready for work, Mrs. Kang is downstairs cooking breakfast for him: two hard-boiled eggs, two pieces of wheat toast with butter and orange marmalade, and some tea. Once he finishes his breakfast, she washes the dishes and gives him a kiss on the cheek before going back upstairs to sleep for a couple more hours.

Mr. Kang is on the road by 7:45 AM at the latest. Unless there’s an accident or bad weather, he arrives at the store between 8:00 and 8:15 AM.

Before you started working for him, he would open the store at 8:30 AM and take his place at the register. Jungkook would be there to help unload deliveries and to have a little chat. On most days of the week, he could expect Yoongi to show up anytime between 9:00 and 11:00 AM, and they’d spend a few minutes chatting and catching up.

After you started working for him, he would hang around in the back office, sometimes puttering around, sometimes working, but mostly doing word searches or reading interesting articles on his computer. He could still expect Yoongi to show up anytime between 9:00 and 11:00 AM, but he started to notice that Yoongi would stay longer. The sounds of your snipes back and forth started to become just another sound at the office, like the brass bell announcing customers, or Jungkook beeping at the back door keypad.

But this morning marks a significant change.

Mr. Kang walks in to find you and Yoongi at the counter, chatting and already snacking on a big bowl of guacamole and chips, waiting for the Antique Store Guy and Candle Shop Lady to open for business and put on today’s show.

You don’t see because he’s coming in from the back office, and you’re busy catching Yoongi up on everything that he’s missed, but Mr. Kang’s cheeks puff up with happiness and pride.

He tiptoes back into the back office to let you have just a little more time, watching giddily as Yoongi pulls you in for a kiss, the two of you getting guacamole on each other, and Yoongi wiping it off with the sleeve of his hoodie.

And he waits until there’s a natural lull in your conversation to walk into the store and greet him with his trademark, excited, “Yoongi!”

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