Summary: Yoongi accidentally causes internet chaos during a concert in Mexico, then calls you right after just to get teased for it. Somewhere between embarrassing fancams, late-night flirting, and a random colorful skull from a market, long distance suddenly feels a little harder than usual.
Status: One-shot
Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Reader
Word Count: 4.4k~
Genre: Idol!AU, Fluff
Rated: PG
Tags: Boyfriend!Yoongi, Secret, Slice of Life, LDR
Posting Date: May 17, 2026
SCC: Ko-fi ☕️ ・ Taglist 📝
That night, Seoul was at its coldest. Light rain had been falling since the afternoon, making the apartment air feel cool and cozy. You had already showered, wearing one of Yoongi’s oversized shirts that somehow had been staying in your closet more often than in his own lately. Your hair was still a little damp when you climbed onto the sofa carrying a thin blanket and a glass of iced americano with almost-melted ice.
The TV had actually been playing a drama for a while, but you weren’t really watching it. Your focus was only on mindlessly scrolling through TikTok. Your FYP that night was completely random—people reviewing spicy food, Jungkook gym edits, videos of angry cats getting bathed.
Until suddenly…
A concert video.
The lights were insanely bright. Fans screaming loud enough to burst your ears even through your phone speaker.
And in the middle of the screen—
Yoongi.
You automatically stopped scrolling.
His hair was soaked with sweat, his breathing still visibly heavy after performing. He was wearing a thin white tank top underneath and a black outer jacket that had already fallen halfway open. His face was red from the heat and exhaustion, but he still looked absurdly handsome in the most annoying way possible.
The caption said:
“HE ACCIDENTALLY TOOK OFF EVERYTHING 😭”
Your eyebrow instantly lifted.
“Hah?”
The video kept playing.
Yoongi was seen pulling off his jacket from behind his neck, probably because he was hot. But somehow, the inner shirt got dragged up with it.
And a split second later—
The entire venue literally exploded.
“KYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAA—”
The fans’ screams cracked from how loud they were. The camera recording immediately shook violently. Someone dropped their phone downward. Someone else only recorded the venue ceiling because they got too hysterical.
Meanwhile Yoongi…
His expression was priceless.
He instantly stopped moving, blankly staring for one second like his brain was buffering, then quickly pulled his shirt back down while laughing shyly.
You immediately covered your mouth. Then burst out laughing alone in the living room.
“OH MY GOD.”
Replay. Replay again.
And the more you replayed it, the funnier it got because he genuinely looked like it was completely accidental. Even the member next to him turned around with a shocked-but-laughing expression.
The next TikTok appeared from another angle.
One zoomed in on Yoongi’s face. One was in slow motion. One used dramatic Titanic music. Another one had the caption:
“Mexico survived earthquakes but not this.”
You practically collapsed against the sofa laughing.
“Poor him…”
But you still replayed it again.
Honestly, it wasn’t just funny. Yoongi looked way too good there.
That white tank top clung to him because of the sweat. His arms were full of veins after performing. His black hair fell slightly onto his forehead. And his embarrassed, panicked expression somehow made everyone lose their minds even more.
Your phone even started constantly buzzing. The BTS group chat instantly became chaotic.
Jimin:
hyung trending 😭😭😭
Hoseok:
I TOLD YOU NOT TO TAKE OFF YOUR JACKET ON STAGE
Jungkook:
Mexico will never move on
Namjoon:
internet is gone
You laughed again while screenshotting several videos. Then without thinking, you opened Yoongi’s chat.
For a few seconds you were still smiling to yourself before finally typing.
You:
[5 screenshots]
Congratulations
Typing…
Typing stopped.
Typing again.
Yoongi:
I want to disappear
You immediately laughed again.
You:
No seriously 😭
This is so funny
Yoongi:
I just wanted to take off my jacket
You:
And accidentally took off your dignity too
Read.
No reply for a few seconds.
Then—
Yoongi:
You’re enjoying this way too much huh
You:
Very much
Yoongi:
Mean
You:
An entire stadium screamed like they got jumpscared
Yoongi:
I was shocked too
You:
Your face was so funny 😭😭😭
You replayed the video again while grinning to yourself.
Especially the part where Yoongi immediately pulled his shirt back down with an expression like “what the hell just happened?”
You even zoomed in on a certain screenshot.
Oh.
Oh no.
His arms were insane though. Without realizing it, you took another screenshot.
You:
Btw are your arms even legal?
Yoongi took longer to reply this time.
Maybe he was showering. Maybe eating. Or maybe regretting his life because the entire internet was now filled with fancams of him.
Finally the chat bubble appeared again.
Yoongi:
Are you thirst tweeting now too?
You:
I’m a victim of the timeline
Yoongi:
Delete TikTok
You:
Can’t
The entertainment tonight is too good
Yoongi:
I’m tired
You:
But handsome
Read.
No reply for about a minute. Then suddenly your phone screen showed an incoming video call. You instantly laughed before answering.
The moment it connected, Yoongi’s face immediately filled the screen.
His hair was still slightly wet after showering. He was now wearing a loose black shirt with the collar hanging lower on one side. His skin was still slightly flushed from the concert and hot shower. He sat leaning against the hotel sofa while staring at you with a tired face.
“Just keep laughing.”
The second you heard his raspy post-performance voice, you laughed even harder.
“Sorry—really sorry but this is genuinely funny…”
Yoongi closed his eyes briefly while letting out a long sigh.
“I opened my phone and it was pure chaos.”
“Well that’s your fault.”
“It wasn’t intentional.”
“You know people are saying Mexico lost their minds tonight?”
“I want to uninstall the internet.”
You were still smiling widely while staring at the screen. And damn it, the more you looked at him now, the more you kept thinking about him earlier on stage.
Sweaty. Heavy breathing. Tense arms.
God.
Yoongi watched your face for a few seconds. Then the corner of his lips lifted slightly.
“Oh.”
“What oh.”
“So you were freaking out too apparently.”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I was just surprised.”
“How many times did you replay it?”
You instantly went silent.
Yoongi narrowed his eyes slightly. “Exactly.”
“…a few.”
“How many is a few?”
“Well… several.”
“You took screenshots too.”
Your eyes widened immediately.
“How do you know?!”
“I can tell from your face.”
“What’s wrong with my face?”
“You look guilty.”
You let out a small huff while leaning back against the sofa again.
Yoongi watched you with a faint smile. Even exhausted like that, he still had energy to tease you.
“You seriously…” you muttered quietly.
“What?”
“You made an entire country hysterical.”
“One country is exaggerating.”
“No it’s not. Their screaming was terrifying.”
Yoongi just laughed softly.
And oh my god, that soft laugh. You hated how easily he made your heart feel weird just from his voice alone.
“You need to see the edits now,” you said while reopening TikTok. “Someone already made a slow motion version.”
“Don’t show me.”
“Too late.”
You played one video.
The second the hysterical fan screams blasted from your phone, Yoongi immediately covered his face with one hand.
“OH MY GOD.”
You burst out laughing again.
“Your expression is so funny!”
“I’m genuinely embarrassed.”
“It’s rare seeing you this embarrassed.”
“Because it wasn’t intentional.”
“You literally buffered on stage.”
“I panicked.”
“It showed.”
Yoongi sighed deeply while sinking further into the hotel sofa. His shirt shifted slightly higher around the sleeves. And you… unconsciously glanced again.
Yoongi noticed. Very noticed.
“What are you doing?”
“Hm?”
“You keep staring.”
“I’m not.”
“You think I don’t know?”
You instantly got flustered.
“Fine, maybe a little.”
“You said it was funny.”
“It is funny.”
“So what is it now?”
You bit your lip briefly before quietly answering,
“…handsome too.”
Yoongi went silent for a few seconds. Then he smiled very slightly. A thin smile. The kind that made your heart melt because he genuinely looked happy hearing it.
“You make me feel confident so easily.”
“Hey don’t get too confident.”
“Why?”
“Or you’ll intentionally take your shirt off at concerts.”
He immediately laughed.
“I’m not that bad.”
“You sure?”
“You’ve already seen it plenty of times too.”
And like someone pressed pause—
You instantly froze. “…what?”
Yoongi casually leaned back while looking at you.
“Why are you pretending to be shocked now?”
“MIN YOONGI.”
“What?”
“That’s a different context.”
“What’s the difference?”
“AN ENTIRE STADIUM SAW THIS.”
“But who sees it the most often?”
Your cheeks instantly heated up.
“That’s not the point—”
“You literally sleep hugging me every night.”
“STOP.”
“And now you’re embarrassed?”
You immediately covered your face with a sofa pillow while groaning in embarrassment.
Yoongi just laughed victoriously from the other side.
“Finally embarrassed too.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“You started it earlier.”
“But now you’re doing it on purpose!”
“Hm.”
“What do you mean hm.”
“It’s cute seeing you flustered.”
You peeked from behind the pillow.
Yoongi was still smiling faintly while watching you. His face looked far more relaxed now compared to the beginning of the call.
And strangely enough, you really loved being the reason he relaxed after a long concert like this.
“You’re really tired huh?” you finally asked, your voice softer.
Yoongi nodded slightly.
“A little.”
“Did you eat?”
“Yeah.”
“Drink water?”
“Yes, mom.”
“Yoongi.”
He laughed softly again.
“I drank.”
You watched his face for a few seconds.
His eyes were slightly red from exhaustion. His voice sounded heavier too. But he still called you just because you teased him about that stupid wardrobe malfunction earlier.
Your chest warmed on its own.
“You should sleep later,” you said quietly.
“Later.”
“Don’t keep saying later.”
He looked at you for a moment.
Then quietly said,
“I miss you.”
Your expression instantly softened.
“…it’s only been a week.”
“Long.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“Yeah.”
You smiled faintly.
And for a few seconds, you just stared at each other through the screen, both exhausted but comfortable.
Until Yoongi finally spoke again casually,
“But seriously.”
“Hm?”
“You were more excited than the Mexico fans.”
You instantly glared.
“Because that’s my boyfriend.”
“Oh so you were jealous?”
“A little.”
“Aigoo…”
“What do you mean aigoo.”
“You’re cute.”
“Not cute.”
“You’re jealous over an accidental shirt slip.”
“It sounds stupid when you say it like that.”
“Because it is funny.”
You huffed in embarrassment.
And Yoongi, who had looked half-dead exhausted this whole time, just smiled even softer while quietly saying,
“The one who sees the most is still you anyway.”
You immediately collapsed backward onto the sofa while covering your face.
“OH MY GOD MIN YOONGI.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
You were still lying flat on the sofa with your face covered by a pillow, while Yoongi’s soft laughter kept coming from your phone speaker.
Satisfied laughter. The kind of laughter from someone who realized he had successfully made his girlfriend malfunction.
“Get up.”
“No.”
“Why are you so embarrassed?”
“Because you said it like that!”
“But it’s true.”
You lowered the pillow slightly, glaring at the screen.
“Yoongi.”
“Hm?”
“Don’t flirt when your face still looks like this after a concert.”
He raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Why?”
“Dangerous.”
That smile immediately appeared again. Small, crooked, annoying.
“I’m literally just sitting here.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem.”
Yoongi laughed softly while resting his head against the hotel sofa. The dim room lighting made the lines of his face look even sharper. His black hair was still slightly damp and falling over his forehead in a way that looked way too good for someone claiming to be exhausted.
And the thing making your heart race the most— He looked so comfortable right now. Relaxed. Soft. But his eyes hadn’t left you this entire time.
“You seriously…” you muttered quietly while avoiding his gaze, “you just caused internet chaos and still have time to tease me.”
“Because I miss you.”
His answer came too fast. Too honest. Your heart instantly skipped weirdly.
“You usually get clingy when you’re tired,” you said, trying to sound casual.
“And?”
“And right now I can’t hug you.”
Yoongi went quiet for a moment.
His expression immediately softened a little more.
“I know.”
The atmosphere suddenly became calmer.
You were already used to tour schedules. Used to video calls from different countries. Used to falling asleep on call until one of you passed out first. But somehow this time felt different.
Maybe because Yoongi’s schedule was too packed. Maybe because you had gotten too used to being close before he left. Or maybe because right now he was looking at you like that while seeming like he really wanted to come home.
“You know,” he suddenly said, his voice low and raspy, “right after the concert, the first thing I did was check my phone for your message.”
You instantly looked back at the screen.
“Seriously?”
“Hm.”
“Why?”
“I already knew you’d make fun of me.”
You laughed softly.
“And you still looked for it.”
“Because I missed you.”
God. You genuinely couldn’t handle it when he suddenly got soft like this. Especially when he followed it up with a tiny smile while secretly staring at you.
“Yoongi…”
“Hm?”
“You make it hard to sleep.”
“I haven’t even started yet.”
You instantly froze.
“What do you mean you haven’t started?”
He casually shrugged a little.
“You said I was flirting earlier.”
“And?”
“But I was just acting normal.”
Your cheeks instantly heated up again.
“Okay then don’t start.”
“What if I do?”
“MIN YOONGI.”
He laughed softly again. Not loudly, but low enough to make your stomach feel weird. Then he moved slightly closer to the camera. And god. That was a terrible mistake. Because now his face completely filled your phone screen.
“You know what the funniest part earlier was?” he asked quietly.
“What?”
“You got possessive immediately.”
“I was not possessive.”
“You literally said ‘that’s my boyfriend.’”
“Well he is.”
“And then you got jealous.”
“A little.”
“You really like me huh.”
You instantly glared in embarrassment.
“Overconfident.”
“But it's true.”
You let out a long sigh while covering half your face with the blanket. Yoongi watched you with a faint smile.
“Cute.”
“Don’t call me cute.”
“Why?”
“It just makes me more annoyed.”
“But you’re smiling.”
You reflexively touched your lips.
Damn it.
He was right.
Yoongi instantly looked satisfied.
“I know your expressions by heart.”
“You don’t need to know them by heart.”
“Too late.”
A few seconds later the atmosphere became quiet again. You could hear the hotel AC from his side. Occasionally there were distant sounds from the hallway, but other than that there was only the sound of your breathing.
Yoongi looked really exhausted now. His eyes were half-lidded. His loose black shirt slipped slightly off his shoulder when he moved. And unfortunately it made you remember the earlier video again.
Yoongi noticed again. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re spacing out.”
“I just remembered earlier.”
“Which earlier?”
“You know which one.”
He smiled faintly.
“Oh. The Mexico incident.”
“Don’t call it an incident like it’s a scandal.”
“It felt like one.”
“The internet literally lost its mind.”
“You did too.”
You sighed softly.
“Well how was I supposed to react…”
“Hm?”
“You earlier were…”
You stopped yourself. Yoongi waited. And somehow that was worse than if he pushed you. Because he just quietly stared at you, making you even more nervous.
“What?” he asked again softly.
“…hot.”
Yoongi immediately tried to hold back a smile.
“Oh?”
“Don’t get too confident yet.”
“But you called me hot.”
“You are hot.”
He finally let out a small laugh.
“Wow.”
“You’re not fair.”
“Why?”
“You know exactly what your post-concert face does to people.”
“What does it do?”
“Yoongi.”
“Answer first.”
You covered your face again.
Which only amused him more.
“Aigoo…”
“Stop laughing.”
“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”
“And you’re so evil when you miss me.”
Yoongi went quiet for a moment.
Then with a lower, softer voice—
“I really do miss you badly right now.”
Your heart instantly dropped. The way he said things like that was always dangerous. Not excessive. Not dramatic. But because his tone stayed calm, it somehow felt more real.
“When are you coming home?” you asked softly.
“Still a few more weeks.”
You instantly pouted.
“That’s too long.”
“Hm.”
“I hate long distance.”
“Me too.”
Yoongi slowly rubbed his face before looking at you again.
“That’s why when I get home later, don’t complain.”
“Why do I suddenly feel nervous?”
“You’re the one who called me hot earlier.”
“I REGRET SAYING THAT.”
He laughed again.
“You can’t take it back.”
“Yes I can.”
“No you can’t.”
“You’re annoying.”
“But you miss me.”
You stayed quiet. Because he was right. And Yoongi knew you too well to the point where he could already see the answer before you even said it.
He leaned back again while staring at the screen for a few seconds. Then casually said,
“After the tour, I probably won’t let go of you.”
Your heart dropped.
“Yoongi…”
“Hm?”
“Don’t say things like that while looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“LIKE THAT.”
He laughed softly.
“I’m just saying I miss you.”
“The way you say it is the problem.”
“What if I was at the apartment right now?”
You instantly went completely silent. Yoongi saw your reaction and his smile became even thinner.
“Hmm.”
“Don’t hmm.”
“I’m just imagining it.”
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
“A little.”
“Yoongi…”
“I’d probably pull you onto the sofa already.”
Your breath instantly caught.
“And then you’d say you’re tired.”
“I am tired.”
“But you’d still come over to me.”
You genuinely couldn’t handle him once he started talking in that low voice. Especially now that his face already looked sleepy and soft. The deadliest combination.
“And then?” you asked quietly without realizing it.
Yoongi’s eyes immediately lifted slightly.
“Oh, so you want to keep listening.”
“Actually, never mind.”
“No. You asked.”
You bit your lip slightly. And Yoongi saw it. Of course he saw it.
“So dangerous,” he muttered softly.
“What?”
“The way you look when you’re embarrassed.”
You instantly turned your face away. Which only made him smile even more fondly.
“Come home soon okay,” you finally said quietly.
Yoongi’s expression instantly softened again.
“Hm.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you more.”
“Overconfident.”
“I’ll prove it later.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
The time difference started becoming more and more annoying once BTS began touring in America.
In Seoul it was already evening while the sun there had only just risen. Sometimes you had just finished work while Yoongi was still at rehearsal. Sometimes you woke up in the morning to dozens of random texts from him sent at three in the morning local time because he couldn’t sleep again.
And the longer the tour went on, the more the longing started to settle in too.
Not the dramatic kind of longing that makes you cry every night. But the kind that appears in small things.
Like when you automatically took out two glasses from the cabinet before realizing you were living alone in the apartment right now. Or when you found Yoongi’s black hoodie still hanging over the living room chair and instinctively hugged it for a second because it still carried traces of his familiar perfume and laundry scent.
Or when you came home exhausted from work and realized there was no Yoongi sprawled across the sofa pretending to sleep just so you would approach him first.
That night you were sitting at the apartment work desk while staring at packaging design files that hadn’t gotten anywhere for hours. The desk lamp glowed brightly while the rest of the apartment stayed dim and quiet. Light rain fell outside the window, making the atmosphere feel calmer and lonelier at the same time.
You had just changed the song on Spotify when your phone vibrated.
Incoming video call:
Yoongi.
A smile instantly appeared on your face without realizing it.
You hadn’t even pressed accept yet, but half your exhaustion was already gone.
The moment the call connected, the screen immediately showed a shaky camera moving everywhere. At first there was only a bright sky and the sound of people passing by. Then a few seconds later Yoongi’s face appeared.
And seriously.
He looked way too relaxed for someone who was supposed to be world famous.
A black cap pulled low. An oversized gray hoodie. His mask was hanging under his chin because he was probably too lazy to talk with it covering his face. Black hair sticking out slightly from under the cap and moving with the wind.
He walked slowly while holding his phone low, like he was genuinely just some ordinary person wandering around an evening market.
Even though he was Min Yoongi.
That was exactly what stressed you out.
“You’re outside?” you asked while automatically sitting up straighter.
“Hm.”
Yoongi’s answers were always short when he was relaxed. His voice sounded heavier from tour exhaustion, but there was a lighter tone that rarely appeared whenever he was genuinely enjoying himself.
The camera shifted slightly, showing small stores around him. Everything was full of color. Neon hanging fabrics, hand-painted ceramics, tiny lights, and faint street music in the distance.
You immediately understood why he liked that place. Because it felt alive. And because it was exactly the kind of place that would make you stop at every shop just to stare at random cute things.
“You went out alone?” you asked again.
“Hoseok and Jungkook are eating. I got bored at the hotel.”
His answer sounded so casual that you had to stop yourself from sighing loudly.
Yoongi was always like this.
Sometimes he still forgot who he was now.
Not because he was arrogant or intentionally dismissing his own popularity. Actually the opposite. Sometimes he genuinely still thought he could casually walk around without attracting too much attention, especially outside Korea.
Even now?
Even people who didn’t follow BTS would probably still recognize his face.
And you knew perfectly well the other members often said the same thing—Yoongi was sometimes way too relaxed about himself.
“Are you even being careful?” you asked while lowering your laptop volume.
“I’m wearing a cap.”
You stared at the screen flatly.
“That’s not a disguise.”
“I’m also wearing a hoodie.”
“Wow. Incredible.”
Yoongi chuckled softly.
His laugh mixed faintly with footsteps and market noise, but it was still enough to make the corner of your lips lift too.
Even so, you kept paying attention to the surroundings behind the camera. People passed by without caring, but there was still a small nervous feeling sitting in your chest.
Not because you didn’t trust him to take care of himself.
But because you knew what the world was like now. One person realizes that’s Min Yoongi from BTS, and five minutes later there could already be a crowd.
And the funny thing was, Yoongi himself still looked genuinely confused whenever that happened.
“You seriously…” you muttered while leaning back in your chair, “still think you guys are nobodies sometimes huh?”
Yoongi stayed quiet for a second before finally smiling faintly.
“Sometimes I forget.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m just taking a short walk.”
“You say ‘just taking a short walk’ like you’re some guy running the neighborhood photocopy shop.”
He laughed more clearly this time.
And honestly, you liked hearing him laugh like that.
Lately the tour schedule has been too exhausting. His face often looked tired. So every time Yoongi sounded genuinely relaxed and comfortable, you felt relieved too.
The camera moved again, showing rows of tiny colorful stores. Neon-painted Mexico skulls, brightly embroidered fabrics, flower mugs, and strange ornaments that somehow still looked artistic.
“You’d love places like this,” he suddenly said.
And he was right.
Your eyes were instantly drawn to all the colors.
You have always loved bright things. Random tiny objects that were cute and overly crowded-looking. Even your apartment had colorful decorations. Yoongi often mocked for having “too many colors.”
“I bought something for you,” he added casually, as if that sentence alone didn’t instantly warm your heart.
You automatically turned quickly toward the screen.
“Hah?”
Yoongi looked satisfied seeing your reaction.
He was always like that. Sometimes purposely saying things suddenly just to watch your shocked expression.
“I kept seeing it and thinking about you.”
And god.
No matter how simple the sentence was, it still always made your chest soften.
Because Yoongi wasn’t the type to openly act romantic. Which was exactly why small things like “I saw this and thought of you” felt far more special.
You immediately started guessing excitedly.
Maybe a cute plate.
Maybe embroidered fabric.
Maybe a long brightly-colored dress Yoongi himself would never touch but would still choose because “this is so you.”
The more you imagined it, the more curious you became.
Especially because the way Yoongi kept holding back his smile clearly showed he was enjoying this.
“Come on, show me,” you whined.
“No.”
“Yoongi.”
“You’ll laugh.”
“It’s fine.”
He finally stopped walking in front of one of the stores. The camera lowered slightly toward shelves full of colorful ornaments.
Then he picked something up.
At first you didn’t realize what it was.
Until he lifted it closer to the camera.
“…is that a skull?”
Yoongi instantly grinned faintly.
“Yeah.”
You stared at the screen for several seconds with a blank expression.
Out of everything in Mexico… Your boyfriend chose a skull. But of course it wasn’t just any skull. It was a brightly painted Día de los Muertos ceramic skull. Pink flowers, blue lines, neon yellow, tiny bright green details. It looked more cute than scary.
Still—
“Why a skull…”
“But the colors are cute.”
“You’re seriously weird.”
Yoongi actually looked proud of his choice.
He slowly rotated the skull toward the camera like he was showing off expensive artwork.
And the longer you looked at it, the more it really did feel… very you.
Crowded colors.
Weird.
Slightly chaotic.
“You like it, right?”
You tried holding back your smile. Because honestly, this really was Min Yoongi-style romance.
Not flowers.
Not stuffed dolls.
Not expensive jewelry.
But a random colorful skull he saw at a market and immediately thought of you.
And somehow that made your heart ache from affection.
“You know normal people buy flowers for their girlfriends.”
“I’m different.”
“Clearly.”
“You don’t like it?”
You finally laughed softly while leaning your head back against the chair.
“I do…”
“Exactly.”
“But you’re still weird.”
Yoongi laughed in satisfaction again.
Behind him, the shop lights had started turning on because evening was approaching there. The bright colors around him looked warmer now. And in the middle of that crowded market, Yoongi stood there holding his ugly-cute little skull proudly.
Strangely enough… That sight only made you miss him more. Because you could clearly imagine him casually walking from store to store, then stopping the second he saw that thing and thinking:
“This would definitely be something Y/N likes.”
And now you really wished you were there with him.
pairing: rockstar!yoongi x female reader | mutual disdain - lovers (but also strangers - lovers? kinda?)
premise: in which you work for your brothers band by day and accidentally anonymously sext his bandmate on the regular by night! whoops !!
chapter wc: 8k
for more details, pls see the master list (x)
note from holly: better late than never?? i recently was telling someone irl about this plot line and they were baffled by it all so i fear i have no choice but to see it through!! also excuse any typos, i've abandoned my trusty spell checker cause they've gone AI crazyyyy and wanna give me a bazillion suggestions that i simply don't want!! go away!! okay anyway, hope u have fun mwah xx
warnings: tipsy people doing as tipsy people do, foul language, sexting, the night that never was lore, yoongi tattoo reveal, arguments??, emotional hurt no comfort!! our main couple have some unresolved issues! quelle surprise!! (1) Pavlov mention, (4) voicemails that should really be deleted, mentions of sex toys, jimin is sexy, yoongi is mean (but i promise it will be worth it!!)
the app (x) | the band (x) | part one (x) | part two (x)
minors dni!!!
04:06AM
D4m0cl3s:
lemme know when you get home safe x
Cl3m3ntin3:
omw x
can’t stop thinking about the photo you sent
pls still be that hard when i get home xx
have busted my phone tho :((((
D4m0cl3s:
nooooooo
how badly?
Cl3m3ntin3:
front camera is fucked 🙁
everything else is kinda okay tho
D4m0cl3s:
what about you?
you okay?
Cl3m3ntin3:
i’m all good
well
no
yeah
i’m good
D4m0cl3s:
good
missed you tonight, clem
you’ve no idea how badly i just wanna say fuck it and invite you to mine
Cl3m3ntin3:
you’re literally the only person in your way
just do it
D4m0cl3s:
i cant
Cl3m3ntin3:
can’t or won't?
D4m0cl3s:
both
Cl3m3ntin3:
why?
you already take a girl home tonight?
D4m0cl3s:
why would i?
so i could fuck her and think about you the whole time?
accidentally call her clem and ruin the experience for both of us?
Cl3m3ntin3:
idk
you tell me
D4m0cl3s:
got an attitude tonight, don’t u?
i told some girl tonight that i had to leave to get home to my girl
my girl, clem
Cl3m3ntin3:
your girl must be lucky
D4m0cl3s:
nah
she’s a fuckin’ dummy
cute tho
and has a really nice pussy, even if i’ve only ever seen it through a phone
clem ur all i think about
you know this
Cl3m3ntin3:
yeah well
i’m sure you’ve got loads of girls sending you stuff all the time
so it’s whatever really
D4m0cl3s:
what are you on about?
have i done something?
i don’t get why you’re giving me the third degree?
Cl3m3ntin3:
im not
just not sure i like being a dirty little secret
D4m0cl3s:
goes both ways
Cl3m3ntin3:
does it?
D4m0cl3s:
i dunno who pissed in your cornflakes, but my nights been ass, clem
i wanted to speak to you ‘cause you always make things better
but whatever’s going on with you tonight??
yeah, count me out
Cl3m3ntin3:
well forgive me for not wanting to be an emotional booty call for someone who doesn’t value me enough to make them an actual booty call!!
D4m0cl3s:
so… you’re mad i’m not just using you for sex?
right
have a little simmer on that one, clem.
Cl3m3ntin3:
have a little simmer on this
Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!
D4m0cl3s is offline
GENIUS LAB
Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu
Yoongi scrunches up his face almost as tightly as he pressed the lock button on his phone. He considers throwing it on the sofa on the other side of the studio, so he can focus on his music again, but apparently he's developed separation issues in recent weeks.
You can’t have everything. He’s learnt this lesson once before. He’d do well to revise his notes and retake the exam.
Tapping his desk as if he’s too scared to make contact with his keyboard, he looks up at the tracks in front of him. The layers you muted remain that way, and while the song feels less cluttered sonically, it’s still just as muddled in his mind.
Yoongi purses his lips as he tilts his head, dark eyes vacant as he tries to reconcile with the fact that the one thing he used to understand better than his own body doesn’t seem to make sense anymore.
Seems like a pattern. He used to understand the girl on the other end of the phone, but has somehow fucked that up.
Used to understand you, too.
He barely recognises you anymore. Occasionally there’s a glint in your eye that reflects a younger version of Yoongi back at himself, but more often than not, you don’t even give him the time of day. He can’t blame you, but he also doesn’t blame himself for what happened. It needed to happen.
Well, that’s not entirely true. If the night that never was never happened, then things could have remained as they always were.
Regret becomes Min Yoongi. It stiffens in his veins until his blood ceases to flow. His extremities become cold and it only spreads. Like a disease, there’s little warmth left in him now, he thinks. Can’t help but give you the cold shoulder, for cold is his only default.
Your perfume is still lingering in his studio. He can pick out the notes. Knows theres vanilla and sandalwood in it’s base. It was spliced with warm cedar on the night that never was, and is muddled with booze now, but he recognises it nonetheless. You linger, even when you’re not there.
He wonders if the boys showed up now, would any of them would realise?
He thinks Jungkook would. Like a bloodhound, he’d know you had been there. Never vocalises it, but all that teasing over the years about something between you two has Pavlov'd Jungkook, Yoongi reckons.
Territorial, is Jungkook, just like a damn dog. Bark is far worse than his bite, though. Ain’t nothing to be scared of.
Raking his fingers through his hair, Yoongi sighs. Realises that if Jin learns of you getting sent off into the night alone that he’ll have slmething to actually be scared of.
“Shit,” he curses, grabbing his phone, slipping it into his back pocket, and quickly grabs his bracelets to put them back on his wrist.
You wouldn’t think they were the kind of bracelets to come off, mostly string, but he’s got a knack to it. Curls his thumb into his palm and scrapes them up against his skin, until they’re secure in place once more.
He knows better than to be sending pictures of his hands with anything that can be tied back to him. There are instagram accounts dedicated to finding his outfits, and he knows for a fact they’ve already figured out the backstreet independent stores all of these bracelets come from. Wouldn’t be worth one of the pictures he’s sent on that damn app getting out if he had them on still.
The door clicks shut behind him as he heads to the elevators, agitated, jittering as he waits. It’s taking too long, though, coming from the ground floor up. His eyes shift across to the fire escape doors, then back to the number slowly rising above the elevator doors, and thinks fuck it.
He bolts down the stairs and into the cold of night, only for you to be gone without a trace.
“Shit,” he says once more, digging into his back pocket to grab his phone. Notices no new notifications from the app he’s borderline addicted to but ignores the disappointment. Pulls up his contacts. Scrolls to a number saved under a single full stop. No name, no emoji, just a full stop right at the bottom of his contact list.
It’s been like that for a while, since before things ever went wrong. Made it less tempting to text you when things used to be good. Also hid the fact he used text you like crazy right in front of Jin’s face.
So yes, Min Yoongi is full of regrets for many things he’s done in life, and you’re the biggest one. Not because of what happened, but because of all that he lost in doing so.
And so as the phone dial rings out in his ear, Yoongi stops breathing. Forgets it’s something he even needs to consider.
“Heya,” you softly greet him through the speaker. He’d been expecting rage. A ‘What?’ or ‘Fuck off’. He’s confused, but calmer, now.
“Hey-”
“Sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now. Don’t leave me a message, I won’t listen, send me a text instead. Byeeee!”
Brilliant. There’s a beep through the speaker, and even though you said not to leave a message, Yoongi’s had too much whisky to comprehend this.
“Uh, I just, uh-wanted to check that you got home okay? I shouldn’t have let you leave like that. Jin will kill me. Just uh… Just let me know when you get home? Okay? That’s it. Alright…bye.”
Across town, with your phone pressed to your ear as you traipse up the hill leading to your apartment building, you listen to your voicemails option menu.
“To listen again, press 1. To delete, press 2. To save, press 3.”
With a scowl on your face, turning the corner to your entryway, you press down on your phone’s keypad, then hold it back to your ear.
“Message saved. You have 4 voicemails saved from this number. To listen—”
You don’t need the options. Already know. For reasons you can’t seem articulate, you tap one a number you really know you should.
“Voicemail received 672 days ago, at 17:51PM: Hey Fizz, I’m just on my way into the studio—I was wondering if you were around today? I’m gonna order from that Thai place you like and their minimum order is like, waaaaay too much for just me. Yeah, just uh, just give me a text or something? Gonna order in about an hour. That’s it. Okay, bye.”
Your hand is heavy on the bannister, legs all clunky and unable to walk with their usual grace. The perils of one too many is finally starting to kick in. Reaching your front door, you jam your doorcode in the keypad as the second voicemail plays.
“Voicemail received 497 days ago, at 01:32AM: Just a heads up, Jungkook’s looking for you. Saw him when I was leaving, and he asked if you were around. Anyway, I said no, so if he comes up and you’re in my studio it’s gonna be sus so either manually lock the door—he’ll think I’ve just changed the code again—or scarper while you can. Probably best you hide regardless. Especially with your hair like that. Not in a weird way. Just like, that and the outfit you’re—Well, yeah, no that sounds weird too. Whatever. Just, uh—Jungkook is looking for you. That’s it. Bye.”
Your door clicks shut behind you. There’s always the option of hanging up before the next message plays. You don’t have to listen to it, especially not when you need to take your shoes off. Bad choices seem to be in abundance tonight, for you switch the phone to loud speaker and pop in on your console table while you wrestle with the straps of your shoes.
“Voicemail received 435 days ago, at 21:39PM: I, uh, I don’t really know why I’m calling. I guess I’m just sorry about what happened. Sorry that it happened altogether. Crossed a line there, and, uh, yeah. Not proud of it, won’t happen again. I know you never listen to these, but I think this is the only thing I’m not blocked on, so it is what it is. Yeah. Sorry. Uh, that’s it, I guess. Bye.”
Cutting the voicemail call off before it replays tonight's message, your frown is fragile. There’s something so deeply pathetic about that recording. You pity him when you listen to it; but you pity the younger version of you that first listened to it even more.
She didn’t deserve to feel the way she did, sat in her bed, chewed up and spat back out by someone she trusted. There’s a silver thread that ties her to you, and the grief in her heart tugs on the string coiled around yours.
“Cunt,” you curse, hoping he feels your venom across the frequencies of the city; that a shiver will run down his spine like his grave is being walked upon.
If anyone were ever to ask you why you kept that voicemail, you’d tell them you don’t know. You’d think it to be true.
But that voicemail is the only evidence of the night that never was. That, and some bottle caps of your favourite orange in the bottom drawer of Yoongi’s studio—but you don’t know they’re there and he doesn’t ever really plan on telling you.
All the voicemail does now is prove exactly why a stupid fuckin’ anonymous app is the only place you’re willing to put yourself out there.
Deep down, you know you were only such an asshole to your Damocles Boy because of Yoongi. That the rejection from him felt like the recoil of Yoogni from way back when.
Poor guy has been nothing but an angel, really. Is far kinder to you than Yoongi ever was.
So a message is sent to him; a simple apology. The promise of a proper chat tomorrow. The assurance that you didn’t mean to be awful to him, and that you’ve just had a few too many.
It’s a rubbish excuse, but it’s the truth—and that’s as much as you can give him. Sort of. Your secrets guard the thing you’ve grown to enjoy so much.
And you know he’s right. It only works because of that. He’s not the love of your life. He’s company. A companion. Someone to look forward to. The promise that there are good ones out there, even if he isn’t your ‘the one’
Leaving your phone on your bed, you grab a towel from the clean laundry pile and saunter to the bathroom, discarding your clothes as you go. Your hallway becomes a runway for your evening; your bathroom a sanctuary to wash it all away.
Main light off, you pull the extractor cord on and flick the mirror lights into action. You need reprise. To be washed anew. Cleansed of your sins.
They wash down the drain with your makeup from the evening, eyes like a Panda and skin free of the drink splashes that had turned sticky.
It’s as you’re softly wiping the mascara way that you realise how awfully chipped your varnish is. Was only a couple of coats, quickly chucked on ‘cause you hadn’t had time to get them done properly, so it’s no surprise. You hate the way it looks though, so open your cabinet to find your bottle of polish remover and absolve them of the nights sins, too. No makeup, no nails, no clothes; a self-care hattrick.
Retracing your steps, picking your clothes up as you head up the hallway to your bedroom, a knock sounds on your door. A towel is wrapped around your body, and your hair is scrunched up in a towel, but that Dutch courage hasn’t left you yet.
You head through to the lounge, tossing your clothes on the armchair and through to the front door. Flick the lock and wait for the mechanical whir indicating it’s open.
Min Yoongi’s only ever seen you like this once before and he damn near lost his mind.
Standing before you now, your hallway light haloing around his angelic face, he’s right back there in that sauna; lakeside, hot cedar and red wine. A cigarette on the dock, shared. An innocence, lost. A friendship, irrevocably ruined.
He remembers what it felt like.
His fingers come to push the sensation off his lips as his jaw tenses, because to remember is to relive, and he cannot do that. Not now. Not here. Not in front of you.
And despite the droplets of water still trickling south down your neck to your shoulder, you feel all sticky, too. Dirty, despite being pristinely clean. You know it’s not, but it feels just like the sweat on your skin from the night that never was.
His eyes are wide, lips gently parted as he just simply says, “Oh.”
Like his shadow, you echo him, unable to say anything else but “oh” right back.
A good thing never lasts long with Yoongi, mind you. The white towel you’re sporting becomes a red flag and he becomes a bull; a fight surely about to ensue.
“What are you doing?” He scowles, walking past you and into your home, pulling the door shut behind him.
“Sorry?” You practically shriek as he walks straight on into your apartment, shoes kicked off by the door, your living room apparently his to parade around in.
“I could have been anyone and you just opened the door in a towel?” He scoffs, looking around, taking note of the fact you’ve rearranged since he was last in there. Kept those fluffy pillows he liked, though. If he notices your underwear on the armchair, he doesn’t mention it. Turning to face you, he shrugs, a look of sheer disbelief on his face. “What if some fuckin’ creep had followed you home?”
“Oh, you mean like you’ve just done?!” You scoff right back. “Pot, kettle, black. Creep.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes. Tries not to smile when he notices the picture of you and Jungkook from high school framed on your wall. You’re both covered in paint, on your way home far later than you should have been to account for the detention you’d had to complete first.
Jungkook had been late for band practice that night. It was in your parent’s garage as usual, and is what sparked a near decade-long in-joke about you and Jungkook dating to piss Jin off.
You’d all been kids back then. You and Yoongi hadn’t ever really spoken. He wasn’t interested in hanging out with Jin’s kid sister—Jungkook was bad enough as it was, but the kid was fuckin’ talented. You were just annoying.
“God, you never grow up, do you? Use your brain for once,” he says, stern as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I was literally just coming to make sure you got home safe, ‘cause your fuckin’ brother would have me for breakfast if I didn’t.”
You’re not those kids anymore. You don’t need a baby sitter.
“Again, Yoongi,” You take a step towards him. His eyes remain trained on yours. Another step is taken, and he finds his gaze has to shift on account of how close you’re getting. He doesn’t think it’s wise. “If you really gave a shit about what Jin thinks, you wouldn’t have done half the things you have.”
He stays silent, and you know it’s because whatever he wants to say is mean. You smirk.
Pressing your index finger into his chest, nail free of the red varnish you had been sporting earlier that night, you make sure his eyes focus back on yours as you say, “You’ve no authority to speak to me like you do. Who even are you, huh? You’re my brother’s co-worker. That’s all you are. You’re nothing. So don’t pretend like this is all for my own good, when you don’t know the first fuckin’ thing about me anymore.”
You press your nail just a little deeper, his body swaying ever so gently as he lets you have this command over him. He doesn’t stop looking at you. Not for a second. Only when you go to leave, does he speak up.
“So, you’re just gonna leave me in here while you go to your bedroom?” He snorts, almost as if he finds this whole thing funny. “Not even kick me out? Wow, for someone who is adamant about how worthless I am, why aren’t you taking me out like trash?”
You pause by your door frame. Hold onto it. Tap it once, twice, then turn around. There’s still a little fire in your eyes, but it seems feeble now, like the flames have been deprived of a little oxygen.
“You’re my brother’s co-worker, and it’d really fuck up his job if anything happened to you,” You say, apparently jumping through hoops to make it all make sense. “So just say here, ‘cause I can’t be arsed trekking over town in half an hour to make sure you got home safe, too.”
It sounded bolder in your head. When you say it out loud, it delivers a little lackluster. Somewhat pathetic. You’ve said it now, though, so you’ve gotta commit to it. Yoongi pretends not to notice the way you grimace at your own words.
Expecting you to carry on, Yoongi says nothing. Just gives you that cold, vacant stare you’ve grown so used to.
Predictable, is Min Yoongi. He can let the silence sit with most people, but finds it quite uncomfortable with you. Eventually says, “I’ll be fine. Look, I’m just gonna go, ‘cause this is, like, weird.”
He doesn’t move mind you. Say’s he gonna leave and stays still.
Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. “Look, Yoongi, I’m shattered. Stay, or don’t, I don’t care. We both both know my couch is just as comfy as your bed. Don’t be difficult.”
It’s easy to miss, the slight beat in both of your hearts as you acknowledge that you know how comfortable his bed is. It’s not for any nefarious, illicit reason; no midnight tete e tete or midday rendevous.
You just went bed shopping with him when he moved into his first ‘grown up’ apartment. You’d been bored and he’d offered entertainment in the form of trying every single mattress within a 15 mile radius. Things had been easier back then. Just as weird, though, in retrospect.
Yoongi dismisses it. “Moved since then. New bed. That one’s in the spare room.”
It’s not a new discovery. He moved probably six months ago or so. Was on tour at the time and had to keep flying back between stops to get things sorted. Ran himself rugged. Rumour on the street (twitter, that is) was that he was going back to visit a girl.
You’d scoffed at the idea of it. Min Yoongi would be the last man to actually give a shit enough about a girl to commit like that.
“Right,” you nod, not really caring to learn any more intricacies of his life. “Well, you know where everything is. There’s filtered water in the fridge and bedding—”
“Bedding in the trunk,” he nods, remembering that all your spare pillows and sheets are in an old tea shipping trunk you got from a flea market when you were still in Uni. All sorts of nicknakcs have been hideen in over time; alcohol, birthday surprises, even people for various reasons or another. Now, it’s taken on a more boring vocation. Seems like life is heading that way generally. Nights out are ending sooner, and bones are getting achey. You’re not sure you like this change. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Yoongi has a few years on you, and you take great pleasure in this. His bones must ache, too. Moreso, even. Your sofa won’t be as comfy as it once was. A small win.
With a curt nod and a stiff smile that doesn’t meet your eyes, you turn your back on him and head to your room. There’s no point showing him around. He knows this place as intimately as he knows his own studio, even if it all feels foreign to him now.
Once you’re in your room, you flop onto your bed, head in the pillows, all air ehaling from your lungs. Hadn’t realised you’d been holding your breath throughout the entire conversation.
Pulling your phone from it’s hidden spot beneath your pillow, you frown to see no new messages, ignoring the fact it is ass o’clock in the morning. Your Damocles boy is probably fast asleep - and could you blame him? After the way you flipped out at him for no good reason?
You scroll through your app folders until you find Hush tucked away, hidden in amongst ones you seldom use so as to not draw suspicion.
It opens up on your chat thread, and you find your frown threading itself even deeper into the lines on your forehead when you see he’s been active since then.
If you’re not careful, those lines will become so deepset that everyone you ever meet will be able to decipher the clamamities they chronicle.
Look at her, strangers would whisper. She definitely fell for someone on Hush who turned out to be a weirdo.
Thing is, no one would look at you and say that. No one would even think that the reason you look so tired is because you’re up all hours on hush. They’d just think you were burning the candle a both ends.
Part of you wishes you were. Or at least wishes that it was a Babylon candle you were burning; you could think of Damocles, and you’d be right there with him. That you could just put it all to bed and see exactly who he is. Give him the chance to decide if he’d wanna make it work. If it’s a risk worth taking.
Your nails tap against your screen, typing faster than you think. Almost as soon as you press send, you exit the app. Check your phone is on silent mode, ‘cause you can’t have Yoongi hearing the vribrate tone of the app incase he knows it, too. You doubt he does. Too old fashioned for the modern conventions of dating—and anyway, he told you he was seeing someone. Hush should be the last app he should be familiar with.
Locking your phone, almost scared to get a response, you toss it down beside you, a small glimmer of hope that he’ll be awake.
Your daydreams of Damocles are interrupted by Yoongi coughing all rather onbnoxiously from the other room. No one coughs like that. He definitely spluttered. You scowl at the thought of it. He’s a walking, talking, coughing ick.
And yet you forget all about him as you unlock your phone to see a new notification waiting for you. A white flag is being waved and it’s suddenly your favourite colour.
04:52AM
Cl3m3ntin3:
i know ur mad at me </3
but i have a question
babylon candles
the ones you light and think about where you wanna go, then get magically transported
if you had one, what would u think of
where would u go x
D4m0cl3s:
evil
this is a trick question, isn’t it?
Cl3m3ntin3:
is it? :(
D4m0cl3s:
Clem
be so for real rn
if i say anything that isn’t you, you’ll block me
Cl3m3ntin3:
maybe
wouldn’t it be so fun to find out tho???
D4m0cl3s:
no
absolutely not
the concept of being blocked by the one thing i can’t stop thinking about is genuinely vomit inducing
i would throw up
BE SICK
literally think i would fall apart
Cl3m3ntin3:
omg shut up no you wouldn’t you big babyi missed u
glad ur up
but answer the question dummy
D4m0cl3s:
missed u more
sorry for fighting
and for the record ur a big baby
Cl3m3ntin3:
answer the question omg
D4m0cl3s:
it’s up for debate!! i’m not sure!!
i think maybe my hometown
haven’t visited in ages
think you’d like it
am gonna take you there one day, show you all my fave places
tell you what tho, clem i think i’d mess a babylon candle up
think i’d think of you regardless
think i’d end up at your door looking incredibly sorry for myself
Cl3m3ntin3:
you wouldn’t even know it was my door
just be disturbing all my neighbours smh
and who’s to say i don’t have roommates? you might be greeted by someone else
you might not realise it isn’t me
what if you gave them a kiss thinking it was me </3
D4m0cl3s:
i’d know it’s you
god, i would know
you have any idea how many times i’ve thought of showing up at some nondescript door, greeting some nondescript girl?
i never really imagine you physically
you’re just like… an entity???
i’d just feel it
if you opened up your door for me, i’d feel it
Cl3m3ntin3:
what’s ‘it’, huh?
what would you feel?
D4m0cl3s:
salvation
Cl3m3ntin3:
you’re so dramatic
D4m0cl3s:
im not
i’m honest
i genuinely think meeting you will feel like the weight of the world is lifted
and then i’ll be horny but idk how relevant that part is
Cl3m3ntin3:
i think i’d be offended if you weren’t x
D4m0cl3s:
i get hard every time hush sends me a notification
only cause i know it’s you
you’ve corrupted me
i used to be a good
a gentleman
and now i’m some fiend who doesn’t know his heart from his dick
Cl3m3ntin3:
you can still be good, babe
just good for me xx
D4m0cl3s:
you know i always am
should see me in clubs
the self-restraint is saintly
Cl3m3ntin3:
you need restraint?
so youre tempted to stray???
D4m0cl3s:
No
god no never
the real restraint is not picking you up on your offers when you ask to see me
cockblocking myself
Cl3m3ntin3:
well you’ve missed you shot for the night
one of my friends is crashing here
i can’t leave and you can’t come
RIP ur hopes n dreams </3
D4m0cl3s:i
can’t cum??
even if i send you a video of it???:((((
Cl3m3ntin3:
not like that, dummyy
ou know i alwaysss want you to cum for me
what’s gonna make you cum tonight, huh?
how are you thinking of having me?
D4m0cl3s:
on a couch
hmmm yeah, big comfy couch
Cl3m3ntin3:
for my potential, totally real housemates to walk in on?
gasp
he’s an exhibitionist
D4m0cl3s:
you’ve told me you live alone a million times when youre trying to convince to come over, dummy
and yeah, couch
i mean it
if i showed up at your door, we wouldn’t make it to the bedroom
Cl3m3ntin3:
you think i’d be that easy????
Wow
thanks a lot!!!!
blocked!!!!
D4m0cl3s:
i don’t think you’d even say hello
i think you’d be too busy kissing me to show me around
i think you’d wrap your arms around my neck
and i’d pick you up, legs around my waist
one of my hands on your waist, the other on your ass
keeping you supported, like a gentleman
duh
Cl3m3ntin3:
so courteous of you babe
would the bulge in your pants be gentlemanly, hmm?
cause we both know you’d be rock hard
D4m0cl3s
:you’re imagining it aren’t you, baby?
how i’d sit down on the couch, you straddled ontop of me?
i know you well enough now to know that you’d be in some big old t-shirt
with underwear thats so tiny it may aswell not be there
Cl3m3ntin3:
so i’m half naked in this little dream of yours, but you’re fully clothed?
that hardly seems fair
D4m0cl3s:
nah
i’d have just showered
would have pulled sweats on with no underwear
you’d feel how fuckin’ hard i am as you grind on me
you’d be so wet it would be seeping through
grinding on my thick, throbbing cock
fuck
i’d wanna fuck you so badly
would you let me?
Cl3m3ntin3:
would you ask nicely?
D4m0cl3s:
No
probably not
i think i’d probably mumble it into your mouth while i was kissing you
tell you how badly i wanna be inside you
then i’d let you make of that what you will
Cl3m3ntin3:
god, i’d wanna be mean soooo bad
would wanna leave you hanging but fuck
i know i’d want you too
even thinking about it is getting me all wet
i’d show you if i was home alone
buttt i’m not
so i wont :*
D4m0cl3s:
god i gotta get myself a babylon candle
Cl3m3ntin3:
think of me in my bed when you do
don’t bother fucking around with the front door
this is where i want you
fuck the couch, fuck all of it
just be in my bed
D4m0cl3s:
god, i’m so fuckin’ hard
such much precum
it’s literally begging to be inside you
wouldn’t last a minute, i swear to god
Cl3m3ntin3:
lucky me ;)
you’d waste a babylon candle on a single minute?
you must be desperate
cute
D4m0cl3s:
shut up
it’s cause you’re too hot
you think i wouldn’t make up for it huh?
you think i wouldnt eat that creampie right from the chef’s table?
fuckin’ gourmet
and you think i wouldn’t share it with you?tl
think i wouldn’t go back down and eat you till your legs are fuckin’ shaking?
babe
do you even know me at all? ;)
Cl3m3ntin3:
god i’m close just thinking about it
D4m0cl3s:
get closer
keep playing with yourself
i’m stroking myself
wish you were here so bad
Cl3m3ntin3:
just close your eyes babe
pretend i am
D4m0cl3s:
if i close my eyes i can’t message you </3
Cl3m3ntin3:
my camera’s fucked
but this is from a couple days ago
Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!
this is what you do to me each and every time
i’m even wetter now than i was then
D4m0cl3s:
Jesus
you’re so fuckin wet
look at that pretty pussy
soaked just for me
i gotta get you one of those remote control vibrators, i swear to god
it’s not enough, being the reason you cum mentally i gotta make you cum physically
fuck
babe keep going
keep touching yourself
Cl3m3ntin3:
i wish i could call
🙁
D4m0cl3s:
i know, babe, me too
just keep playing with that pretty pussy for me
get yourself creaming for me
i’m so close
so fuckin’ close
Cl3m3ntin3:
me too
Fuck
god i want it all inside me
i wanna cum around your cock so bad
D4m0cl3s:
babe
fuck
Cl3m3ntin3:
oh god
i’m there
D4m0cl3s:
fuck
clem
Cl3m3ntin3:
fucking hell
Hehehehhee
you good?
D4m0cl3s:
yeah babe
all good
fuck i miss finishing on call, but fuck
Yeah
came so hard
Cl3m3ntin3:
what were you thinking about?
D4m0cl3s:
i wasn’t
i was looking at that picture
you’ve no idea how perfect you are
do i even wanna know what you were thinking about?
Cl3m3ntin3:
my default closing scene
us
my bed
missionary
weird enigma where you should be ;)
D4m0cl3s:
i’m worried now
what if you can’t cum with me in real life cause i’m not an enigma?
Cl3m3ntin3:
i’ve seen your cock
there’s no way i’m not cumming
perfect
fuck a vibrator
get one of those dick moulds
at least that way i could feel you
D4m0cl3s:
it’s just for you babe
all yours
and that’s actually not a bad idea
think i’d be scared of breaking my dick or something with it tho
Cl3m3ntin3:
as it should be ;)
hold that thought x
Cl3m3ntin3 is offline
“Oh, Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” You shriek as you step into your hallway, only to be greeted with a dark figure leaving the bathroom. It doesn’t take any time at all to figure out who it is, in part aided by the light pouring in from the living room doorway.
“Shitting hell,” Yoongi hisses, the bright smile he’d been mysteriously sporting evaporating as soon as his eyes land on yours.
You’re so overcome with your surprise that you almost don’t notice his attire, or lack thereof.
He’s in a pair of boxers. Black. Branded, probably, but the light is too low, and your aversion to anything below his naval prevents you from staring. His hair is dishevelled, but there’s a lightness to him. Relief, perhaps.
It’s a lightness you haven’t seen in a while. A lightness you’ve only ever truly seen once, but that memory is tucked so far away in the depths of your mind that you can’t recall it, now.
“What the fuck are you doing?” You ask, as he’s not clearly going back to the living room after going to the bathroom. His phone is in his hand, locked, but gripped so tightly he’ll snap it right in half if he isn’t careful. Would send the glass shattering, impaling himself with the shrapnel. He’d do anything to keep his secrets safe. Would self-sacrifice before he admitted anything to you. Already said too much earlier this evening. Knows he’s one false footing away from falling over entirely.
“Baking a cake?” He sarcastically sneers. “The fuck does it look like? God forbid a man needs a piss.”
“Yeah, well, go outside next time,” you huff in reply, as if that's a reasonable or functional thing to request. You live in an apartment block. A man pissing outside would definitely get you a strike against your tenancy agreement.
He just rolls his eyes, and continues towards the lounge. Signs off with, “I wanted to leave. You told me to stay. This is your own damn creation, Fizz.”
He stops in his tracks, just shy of the doorframe. His broad shoulders barely fit through, muscles strong and defined. The valley of his spine is a dangerous path to follow, yet your eyes stalk down it like a deer in headlights.
He’s gained a tattoo since you last saw his bare skin. Between his shoulder blades rests a sword. It’s delicate. Deadly, no doubt.
It reminds you of your Damocles boy, and almost distracts you from the fact he called you by the nickname he gave you a million moons ago. The rest of the boys still call you it, but you don’t think you’ve heard it come from his mouth since the night that never was.
He closes the door behind himself, knowing that there’s nothing else left to say. He’ll rest until dawn, then will be gone before the recycling truck comes to pick up the trash ahead of the day. There’ll be no goodbye, but that's not unusual for him.
Threading the lock of the bathroom door through the latch, you take a deep breath. Look at yourself in the mirror. Your furrowed lines of frustration have all but gone. It’s funny, how similar to Yoogni you can be; how a little time with your phone can lift a weight.
You suppose he was maybe speaking with the person he’s seeing. Cherry, you name her in your head, thanks to the drawings in his notebook.
He’d suit a cherry. Cherry red lips, cherry cola hair. Bright red lollies, glasses of merlot and bloody knees after a piggyback gone wrong. Maroon nails stroking against that sword he’s adorned himself with. Sanguine in his security; Min Yoongi wouldn’t rush into anything he wasn’t certain of. Rosy noses in the winter, flushed cheeks in the elevator as his hand tangle in her hair, the most cardinal thing he’s ever known.
So yeah, you think. He’d suit a cherry.
Not the fizz of fuckin’ orangade. So fuckin’ immature. You’ve always been and will remain to be his best friend's younger sister. And that’s fine.
He doesn’t even look that good under the orange glow of dimmed streetlamps, and he definitely doesn’t look phenomenal in firelight. Fuck no. And he looks like a tit when he peels oranges. In fact, you hate going into his studio after he’s had a clementine, and he’s always fuckin’ eating them these days. You love the scent and he is actively ruining it.
You lift your head. Meet your own gaze in the mirror. Furrow your brows once more, ‘cause why does any of this matter?
If anything, it should be a relief to hear him call you Fizz.
So lost in your thoughts, you almost don’t notice your phone light up, Jimin’s face in the caller ID.
It’s not unsuaul for him to call, but it is unsualf for him to call so late. Or early, really. You figure he’s just making sure you got home safe. He’s good at that; checking in. Does it with all the boys, too.
Jimin is your friend. Has been for years.
Park Jimin, Chief Artist Liaison Officer of Big Hit? Senior Tour Manager?
Yeah, he’s a different entity entirely.
Park Jimin has a job to do, and that job is to ensure The Scouts are as profitable as can be for the label. He knows damn well the importance of keeping the ‘assets’ safe. You included in that, whether you like it or not..
Have you all on his ‘find my friends’ app. Has done for years. You’ve pretty much all forgotten.
You see, the truth of the matter is that you and Yoongi aren’t the only ones who don’t speak about the night that never was. Jimin’s never told a soul, either. Not even you.
He knew damn well the repercussions of telling anyone that he’d seen you and Yoongi driving out of the city together on a weekend he was supposedly ‘visiting family’ and you were seeing ‘friends from uni’.
When he had checked back in on his app later that afternoon, just to see if Yoongi had dropped you off in your uni city on the way down to Daegu, he’d paused. Frowned. Searched the forums to see if there were any active glitches or servers down. Found no evidence that there were. Instead, he just found that for some unexplainable reason, you’d been in the same remote location for 3 hours.
He had half a mind to call you both. Ask what the hell you were thinking. What the hell you were doing. Decided against it. Just spent his weekend quiety observing.
Come Monday morning, your little avatars on his screen were miles way, different parts of Seoul. He held his breath. Knew if he saw you together again, for any unexplained reason, he’d have to hold an intervention.
But you were never together again. Sure, sometimes at work, but never outside of it. Whatever happened during those 44 hours you were locked in on the side of a lake with nothing around it for miles, he didn’t need to know.
All that he knew was Yoongi threw himself into writing the next batch of tracks for the album, and you bleached your hair, so it must have been pretty fuckin’ brutal for you both—and that was music to his ears.
Not ‘cause he didn’t love you both or want what’s best for you, but because he did and continues to love you both all the same. He wants what’s best for you—and your brother's oldest friend is not what’s best for you.
Your brother fighting his oldest friend because of you? Also not good. Would cause irreparable damage to the band, and Jimin cannot afford that.
So he’ll take Yoongi as recluse and you as a fried blonde if it means The Scouts remain as bulletproof as they always were.
But you’re not blonde anymore and Yoongi’s got writer’s block. Quelle surprise, your avatars have been stapled to your apartment block for the last two hours with no sign or movement.
He is not letting it happen again.
Especially not with the shitstorm you’ve ‘caused tonight.
“Can I help?” You answer with a smile, anticipating a drunk Jimin on the other end of the line.
Instead, he’s direct. To the point. “Is Yoongi there?”
“Uh…”
“Fizz, I know he is.”
“He’s on the couch?” You half question as if it isn’t true. The issue is, the rest of it is all a little messy, so a white lie is told. “He walked me home, so—”
“I don’t wanna know,” Jimin interrupts, as if he knows you’re bullshitting him. “Just get him out of there. The internet is going fuckin’ crazy and I can’t have him getting papped leaving—”
“Sorry?” You ask, utterly bemused, leaving the bathroom and heading across to the living room to get Yoongi up. Whatever had a bee in Jimin’s bonnet like this would have to be serious. He wouldn’t be like this if it wasn’t. “Yoongi—”
Already on his own phone, Yoongi greets you with dark eyes that practically scream: We’re fucked.
“Yeah, I know Kook,” Yoongi stresses down the line of his phone. Eyes on yours, he’s panicked. Like dark cherries almost, glinting in the light, his eyes are sweet in their distress. “No, no it wasn’t like— Fuck. How many? 56 thousa– Oh Jesus. Okay. Yeah. Fuck. I’ll be at the studio in 15.”
“Gotta go,” you say to Jimin, hanging up as Yoongi does the same to Jungkook.
“Fuckin’ intenret weirdos,” he hisses, tossing his phone down into the sofa. He reclines back with a sigh, raking a stressed hand through his hair. Explains, “Someone took a picture of us grabbing a taxi, and apparently twitter is in a meltdown.”
Your heart is beating so fast you can practically taste blood. You’re crimson in your surprise. Fitting, really, that the panic of getting caught up with Yoongi would turn you such a shade.
You remember what happened with Tae, though, when innocent pictures were misconstrued and he almost lost the love of his life as a result of it. If Yoongi really is seeing someone, and the internet is playing cupid without his consent, it could be detrimental. You’d sneered at the idea of his cherry girl earlier, but you feel sick now at the idea of being ‘that’ girl. The other girl, even if you’re not.
Pulling his trousers on, Yoongi continues to curse. Says some shit about knowing better than to get caught up in a situation like this.
“Oh, give over,” you almost laugh, knowing how damage control works in this industry. “You’ll be papped with a girl next week; everyone will forget about it. Some influencer or something. Or better yet, why not a contestant from singles inferno? That seems to fit your modus operandi.”
Yoongi pauses, jaw slack before it tenses. He scoffs. Shakes his head. Barely remembers doing that pap walk. Doesn’t get why it’s something you’ve clearly got a gripe with. Was just business.
“Yeah, maybe,” he bites back. “And maybe you’ll bleach your hair so no one fuckin’ recognises you—Oh wait, no they will! ‘Cause it’s the world’s worst disguise, and then maybe the fuckin’ fans will see you on back-to-back nights out and find the LinkedIn accounts and grandparents of every single man you’re seen making out with and then Hoseok will have to pull you in for another meeting about keeping a low profile so Jin doesn’t have to publicly deal with having harlot for a sister? Maybe? Hm? How does that sound?”
So turns out Yoongi knows exactly why you’ve got a gripe with that pap walk, ‘cause he seems to have a pretty big gripe with your crash out as a result of it.
It wasn’t your finest hour, you will admit. The blonde was good. The nights out? Yeah, low point.
But Yoongi’s weekend bag was still in the boot of his car when he drove some girl from the most recent series of Singles Inferno to a restaurant for some ‘mutually exclusive deal’. He knows there was a receipt from your favourite Thai place in the passenger side door and the cap of one of your orangades in the cupholder.
“We both know the blonde was hot,” you childishly retort. “And if you can fuck around with Z-listers from dating shows, then who gives a fuck who I’m seen with? I’ve got girls with smartphones following me around; you’ve got paps with professional cameras. Bit different. If I’m a harlot then what the fuck are you, Yoongi? At least I don’t get paid for mine.”
He was never seen with her again, in all fairness. He’s never seen with the same girl twice. Ever.
It’s all part of the ‘image’. Even if it hadn’t been you tonight, it would have been some other girl that his Cherry lady would have had to see all over socials. It’s a sad way to live.
“Look, if anyone asks, it’s exactly as it was,” Yoongi tells you, not caring to carry on the bickering. He doesn’t really think you're a harlot. Quite the opposite, actually. He isn’t so sure you’d say the same about him. “I made sure you were home safe, then I left.”
There’s nothing more to say. Nothing left worth fighting about.
And so you let him disappear into the night. The streetlamps will tarnish him in orange, but his fury at how this has all gone down will paint him red regardless.
With a sigh, trying your best to ignore the slight scent of his aftershave in the air, you plonk down onto the sofa. Flick up twitter. Scroll for approximately 2 seconds, and then you see it.
“Shit.”
It’s really not that incriminating, you think as you scroll. An easy mistake. Might not even be you! You can barely see—
Oh.
No.
There’s another picture of you in the club. Okay, so yeah, it’s not deniable. But it’s fine! You’ve known him for years. Of course you hang out. It’s fine.
The pictures repeat and repeat and repeat. Different angles, different saturation, different contrast. There are edits already. Occasionally there’s cries of fans telling other people not to spread them, which do you appreciate it.
But then there’s another picture.
Daylight. Pixelated. Far harder to decipher. Insane zoom and crop of a much larger picture. The caption makes no real sense to you. It declares you as a couple. Declares #FIGIISREAL. Boasts that they were right. That you and Yoongi have been together for years.
And once you realise what it is—where it is—you gasp.
There’s no way.
It can’t be.
But it is.
The morning after the night that never was stares you in the face; Yoongi’s expression pained as a kiss is pressed to the side of your (pre-bleached) head, waiting in line at the gas station convenience store.
—a/note: not me desappearing the whole weekend lmaoo i'm sorry!! but i felt like i was rushing things and i panicked!! so i took (more than enough) time to finish this!! i tried to not disappear again!!! happy late halloween i guess. thank you for waiting always 💗
series masterlist | teaser | playlist
You squinted when, all of the sudden, a bright white spotlight hit you straight in the face.
“Jungkook,” You said as you stood in the middle of the stage of The Alley, covering your eyes, “something tells me you’re not great with the lights.”
“Well, you’re not wrong.” He laughed from somewhere backstage. “You know, my skills are very limited. I play the drums, a little bit of guitar. I cook pretty decently, too. At least that’s what the ladies tell me. I’m not very specialized in this, though.”
A second later, the entire place was bathed in red. You couldn’t help but laugh.
“Great. That’s exactly what we needed,” you muttered—loud enough for him to hear.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he said with a grin. “Everything would be a lot easier if Yoongi were here. He actually knows how to work the console.”
You fought the urge to roll your eyes.
Right, Yoongi. That was the name you’d been hearing all week. Yoongi this, Yoongi that. “Yoongi knows this better than I do,” or “Yoongi knows where that thing is, he’ll tell you,” and yes, “You should probably ask Yoongi to help you with that.” At this point, you’d stopped wasting your time wondering why the hell he suddenly knew everything about The Alley better than anyone. Minnie had told you several times, though the answer wasn’t quite convincing: he was the lawyer; he had to.
That was the answer that lay on the surface, and it made sense. Especially with the party preparations, he knew which things you could get away with and which ones could get you in trouble. What you didn’t understand was why he needed to be around all. the. damn. time.
Didn’t he have a job already?
You knew this wasn’t the only explanation, because there was no reason for Yoongi to know where the costumes from the play were stored, or the names of the students in Jungkook’s drumming classes. He was deeply involved; it went far beyond that. You just knew, but you couldn’t prove it yet.
You crossed your arms over your chest, letting the name fade in the air. “But Minnie told me you were the one who could get away with anything, aren’t you?” you told him “And you’re in charge of the console the night of the party.”
He hummed, smiling, almost too proud of himself. “And trust me, she’s right. I just need a hand and then I’m ready to go.”
You walked over towards him, pausing when you were next to him. “Is he coming today, anyway?” You asked softly, trying not to sound too curious as your eyes fixed on the lighting board.
“He better.” Jungkook snorted. “There’s a ton of stuff to do before the party.”
“Don’t remind me.” You sighed. “I’m putting him to clean the floors if he’s late.”
Jungkook let out a laugh, shaking his head as you watched him fiddling with the board, clearly guessing his way through it.
A beat of silence passed until he finally spoke again.
“So… You and Yoongi, huh?” You heard him talk under his breath. He found your eyes, slightly raising his eyebrows with curiosity.
“Me and Yoongi?” You repeat, titling your head. You caught something in his eyes, but you ignored it.
“You two have known each other since you were kids, right?” he asked.
You shifted your weight from foot to foot, lips pressing together.
“Yeah... maybe even before that,” you said, careful not to slide into memory lane. “He was already there when I was born.”
Jungkook gave a low whistle. “That’s a long time,” he murmured. “So... do you actually get along, or was that scene the other day in class just an everyday thing?”
You couldn’t help but smile, even though the memory made you cringe. You had hoped everyone would’ve forgotten about it by now, but it was clearly engraved in their minds. You could tell by the look Harriet gave you when Yoongi suddenly burst into the room and you had to keep your mouth shut, or when Yoongi approached to ask you something, all of a sudden, the kids exchanged knowing looks, like there was some kind of inside joke, like both of you were the inside joke.
No one went so far as to ask you about it, though—except Jungkook, who was trying a little too hard to sound nonchalant.
“So…” he continued, “you’ve always been close?”
“Well, depends what you mean by close” You gave a small shrug. “He’s my brother’s best friend, I guess we were friends by default.”
“Funny, though.” He commented “You two argue like you know each other way better than just by default.”
You exchanged a brief glance with Jungkook, but it felt like you stood there for a solid five minutes.
You narrowed your eyes. What was he trying to say?
“That’s because he's annoying.” You tried to brush it off, walking back to the center of the stage as you checked the notebook in your hands. The list of things to do before the party was still very long, and even more than half of them needed the help of Yoongi, who still hadn’t shown up. “And he’s late.”
It wasn’t until you saw Minnie last week, sick on her bed, surrounded by used tissues as she tried to hold back another sneeze, when you had to tell her she should step back from preparations for the halloween party.
It was clear for everyone in the building that this wasn’t just another halloween party, the moment Minnie stepped foot on the place, people drowned her with questions: when did the second DJ set start? Were strobe lights allowed in the main hall? If we set a bar in the backyard, would we need a different permit?
And yes, she had answers for everything. She was determined to do the most in record time. Ever since the last Alley meeting a few weeks ago, when Yoongi cautiously mentioned that if the fundraiser went well, they might just reach the emergency repair goal before the next council deadline, Minnie had clung to the idea like it was a lifeline, even if Yoongi had only framed it as a possibility. That, of course, until her body began to take its tool and left her sick on her bed.
“You just need to rest,” you assured her, setting her third cup of tea for the day on the nightstand. It was cold outside, but not enough to leave Minnie this sick. You both knew it was something else.
“I can’t rest. I need to finish planning the party,” she insisted, scrolling on her phone and frantically texting everyone in her contact list to make sure everything was going according to plan.
You sighed and sat at the foot of her bed. “Who’s in line after you?” you asked, searching for a solution in your head.
“No one.” She scoffed and took a sip from the cup.
You shot her a look, silently begging her to make an effort.
Minnie shook her head. “Okay, maybe Sid, probably, but he’s out of town, so yeah, no one. I’m single-handedly keeping that place from falling apart.”
“There’s got to be someone,” you murmured, biting your nails without even noticing. “What about Jungkook? He knows his way around, I’ve seen it.”
“God, no,” she whined, rolling her eyes. “I mean, he does, he really does, but he’s not up to date on all the infrastructure issues. I need to be there for that.”
“But your body is literally asking you to stay in bed right now.”
Minnie sank into the pillows, looking like she was about to cry. “But I only trust myself.”
You shook your head with a short laugh. “You can’t only trust yourself, Minnie. C’mon, there’s really no one who knows all that stuff as well as you do?”
She opened her eyes wide and nodded. “Oh, there is.” She grabbed another tissue to wipe her nose. “Not sure you’re gonna like who it is.”
You tried not to roll your eyes. Of course it was Yoongi. “You’re not serious.”
“He’s our lawyer, he has to know everything. It’s his job.”
You didn’t argue with that, it was just facts.
“But he can’t plan the party.” You assumed, and you were correct. The idea of Yoongi planning a Halloween party—or any kind of party—seemed almost too funny to picture.
“No, he couldn’t,” Minnie confirmed.
But you still weren’t out of ideas.
“What if you pair Yoongi and Jungkook?” you suggested. “Jungkook knows the place, Yoongi knows the legal stuff, they could make a good team.”
For the first time all day, you saw a smile cross Minnie’s face, though it was paired with a deep frown.
“I love Jungkook, sweetheart,” she said, voice fond. “But what gave you the impression that he knows a thing about organization?”
You laughed under your breath, knowing she was right. Jungkook wasn’t the right person to plan the party, he barely knew how to work the stage lights, but he was the last rational option you had left.
The room fell silent for a second.
Then again… there was the irrational option.
And for a moment, you tried to stop it. You tried with all your will. But when you looked at your friend in bed, already on the edge of falling apart, the feeling only grew deeper. Before you could stop it, whatever bullshit you were thinking came out of your mouth almost too easily. Almost like you wanted it.
“What about me?” You suggested, locking eyes with her.
Minnie blinked. Her brown eyes looking at you like you just stopped earth with your hands.
She let out a choked laugh, full of disbelief. “Are you kidding, or…?”
“I’m serious.” You said before you could regret it. “But only if you think I could pull it off, I mean, it’s such a big-”
“Fuck off.” She interrupted you, hopping off the pillows to kneel beside you. “Of course you could. Hell, better than me, I bet.”
You laughed, feeling your heart melt inside your chest. “I don’t think anyone can do it better than you.”
“You can.” She said, putting her hands together as if she were begging. “It’s just a party, you can do it.”
“It’s not just a party…” You reminded her with a glance.
She pursed her lips, nodding. “Okay, it is an important party.” She admitted. “But you’re the only one I’d trust with it. You and…” You could almost see the thought crossing her mind, making her suddenly stop talking. “You and Yoongi.”
“Me and Yoongi are on a truce, remember?” You said, making emphasis on the word truce like it was some kind of joke. And it was, it made Minnie laugh every time you reminded her of it.
“So, are you telling me both of you could work on this as a team without breaking this truce of yours?”
To be honest, you weren’t quite sure. The whole truce thing worked fine when you only had to exchange a few words and stay in different rooms without actually seeing each other. You hadn’t tested it to its full limit yet—but you were willing to try. For your friend’s health, yes, but also for that buzzing feeling in your chest whenever you thought about the Halloween party.
“Of course.” You promised. “I’m a professional.”
And at the time, a week ago, you had meant it.
You weren’t surprised to see Yoongi at The Alley anymore. You were used to it by now, even if at first it felt like you caught a glimpse of a ghost standing down the hallway when the lights were turned off. Now you were almost familiar with the ghost, but that didn’t mean you wanted him floating around in every corner of every room.
You looked down to your notebook with the list of things you needed to do today. It turned out, Yoongi was needed for every single thing.
There, standing in the middle of the stage under the red lights, you saw him entering through the doors, his eyes locking with yours immediately.
All at once, the lights turned green.
“Do you think the kids would like this?” Jungkook asked from backstage. “They’ve been asking me to play hyper pop.”
Yoongi walked down the aisle in a straight line, stopping at the bottom of the stairs with his hands shoved into his pockets. Today, he wasn’t wearing his usual white shirt; instead, he had on a blue flannel over a simple black t-shirt, a black cap pulled low over his head.
“Jungkook, if a green neon light hit me right in the face at a club, I’d probably die on the spot,” He said, his eyes still holding your gaze.
You snorted. “You, at the club?” You said. “Isn’t that past your bedtime?”
“Good morning to you, too.” He climbed up the stairs towards you, leaving his backpack on the stage floor.
“Good morning.” You forced a smile, trying to remember the fact that he was working for free and not that he was late. “Are you a lawyer today or an electrician?”
“I can be whatever you want.” The corners of his mouth tugged upwards into a smirk, teasing. You guessed he was in a good mood today.
“Great, I want you to be the guy who knows how to work the lights.” You pointed towards Jungkook, who looked relieved that Yoongi was finally here.
Yoongi waved at him from his place, then looked back at you. “What do you mean by bedtime, by the way?” He leaned towards you, frowning. “I’ve been to clubs.”
You blinked, a laugh already tugging at your lips. “For sure. Ten years ago, maybe. Besides, this is not a club.”
“Still counts, doesn’t it?”
“We’re testing the lights for the costume contest,” you shot back, shaking your head. “I think that’s very far from being a club.”
“Tsk. Right, that thing…” He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms above his chest. “So are you presenting the contest, huh?”
“Yeah, that’ll be my job.”
He nodded a few times, tapping one foot against the wooden floor. “And are you… wearing a costume?”
You turned to him, searching for some kind of encrypted message in his eyes, but there was none. It seemed to be just him, trying to make small talk.
“Huh… yeah. Minnie said it’s mandatory.” You bit your bottom lip, playing with your fingers. “Are you…?
“I don’t know yet.” He said “But she also told me it was mandatory, and that she would kick me out if I don’t.”
You smiled, picturing that in your mind. “That would be funny.” The room turned red again, making you close your eyes and sigh. “Can you help him?”
“On it.” He nodded. “What color?”
“Whatever you want,” you said, watching him walk right past you. “Something that won’t make the costumes hard to see.”
Yoongi leaned over the lighting board, patting Jungkook’s back in greeting. In a matter of seconds, the reflectors turned pink, blue, and white, making you glance down at your hands and clothes to check if they were visible enough under the new lighting.
You looked up to them. “Do I look alright?”
Jungkook and Yoongi looked up from the board at the sound of your voice, finding you standing at the center of the stage.
Yoongi’s eyes fell on you, noticing how the pink lights caught in your eyes and glimmered on your dark clothes, as if the colors themselves were shining straight from you. Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat, gulping.
You looked at your hands, smiling, and said something to them, but Yoongi couldn’t seem to hear anything. You looked pretty, he thought involuntarily. You were wearing a black long sleeve shirt and a black mini skirt, paired with bright red tights and ballerina flats. Your long hair cascaded across your back, slightly curly at the ends, your eyes were wide and shiny under the lights. He could see your lips moving from across the room, but the sound was just a buzz in his ears, almost like the only thing he was able to do was take in the picture of you under the pink lights.
A subtle frown made an appearance in your face. Yoongi quickly realized that you were expecting some kind of answer. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, but his gaze still found its way towards the pink halo that was drowning you.
“Huh…?” Jungkook shook his head, looking as mesmerized as Yoongi.
“Do I look alright?” You repeat, this time loud enough to make them hear you. “What are you looking at? Does it look bad?”
“No, no you look perfect!”
“That’s not- No, you look fine.”
Their voices clashed with each other, making it impossible for you to hear the words clearly. Your frown got deeper. He suddenly remembered where he was.
“Okay…” you said, narrowing your eyes “Are you sure the costumes will look good?”
This time, Yoongi felt confident enough to answer. “Yeah, they will be visible.”
“Right...” You ignored their reactions, letting your eyes fall on your notebook again. “Okay, I left a few instructions there for Jungkook. When you’re finished, meet me in the back.”
Yoongi observed your body turn around almost like a dance move, swirling and making your skirt flow as you headed to the stairs to leave the scene. He could hear his heart beat on his throat, and for a second, he swore he could hear Jungkook’s heart too.
He snapped out of the trance, looking at the younger man next to him following you with his big black eyes. Slightly annoyed, Yoongi snapped his fingers several times, bringing Jungkook out of his daydream. “Okay. Back to work, kid.”
Yoongi spent almost thirty minutes trying to teach Jungkook how to work the lights properly in the way he remembered Sid teaching him. Since he handled the permits and compliance with regulations, he made sure to learn the basics of things like this, especially if he was going to be present during future inspections or emergencies. At first there was no need for him to learn all that stuff, there were people who had spent years at The Alley and knew the place like the palm of their hands, but as the place grew more short-staffed and they couldn’t afford to call in help every time something broke, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to become familiar with a thing or two.
Jungkook and him worked together trying to follow the instructions you left, and when he was sure he got everything right, he went looking for you, following your vanilla scent backstage.
It had been a week since you took full charge of the party preparations, a week since he began working alongside you as Minnie requested. It was fine, he swore it was, but as he looked ahead and realized he still had another week before Halloween, he started to feel the collar of his shirt a bit tight.
Namjoon hung around last week and looked at him with a mocking smirk plastered on his face. He passed by and muttered shit in a low voice just to annoy him, saying he seemed to be handling it well, but Yoongi just rolled his eyes, because he was, at least for a bit.
At first, Yoongi guessed it was the truce he so foolishly proposed, or the fact that you were too focused to give a damn about him, but the more time he spent with you, the more he realized that the reason why you were letting him so close was because you were happy. You had a smile on your face, you seemed excited, there was a glint in your face that he hadn’t seen in a while. Perhaps that was why you quickly got immersed in this weird dynamic where you pretended nothing ever happened, you had no time for that.
He stood beside you when you needed him, as you held the notebook in your hands and checked your bucket list for the party. He held his breath as he observed your black painted nails, the ring of your fingers, the way you wrote notes in angry red every time you didn’t like how something turned out, or when you loved it, there was no in between. He followed you around like a puppy, waiting for you to find him useful, waiting for you to get tired of him and tell him to piss the fuck off.
You didn’t.
Yet.
It was like some strange force had taken over him since the night he saw you back home. He’d wished someone had warned him that you were going to be there, that way, he could have put his thoughts in order before seeing you again. But no one did, and when he walked into the room, he felt his heart drop to his stomach, for a moment his gaze blurred. Now his mind was all over the place.
You looked so different, yet the same.
Your hair was shorter, it was still long but cut in this stylish way just like a movie star. You had lost your baby face, you wore bags under your eyes and a faint smile. You looked older, grown. It was a version of you that he didn’t get to meet, a version of you he missed out.
Your voice was the same but you talked about different things, your eyes were the same but they didn’t look at him anymore. For a brief moment, Yoongi made peace with the fact that now you were a stranger, and still, he tried to meet your gaze all evening.
You were so far away even if you were just right across the table. And he was fine with it, he had been fine with it for years. He had numbed the feeling, silenced it, buried it in someone’s backyard. He believed both of your paths were clear, that it was written somewhere, sealed in the sky and meant to happen just like this, and he stood by it for so long.
He stood by it when he found you in the backyard of your house after you went out for some air. He stood by it when he saw you at The Alley, when you were teaching the kids in the middle of the stage, and when he picked you up from Minnie’s apartment to have dinner with his mom, watching you come down the stairs as the wind made your hair flow. But when you set foot in his house after four years and sat at the table next to Nari, he felt that familiar feeling in his stomach return. Only God knew how bad it was, and how bad it could get.
Since then, Yoongi observed you like you were on a big screen, like he was far away and you were just a projection of his mind, just like you’ve been since you left. Were you on the stage, helping the kids with the script Harriet wrote and spinning around like a ballerina as you tried to help a girl to get a scene right.
He watched your hair flow around in red tights as if you were the main character in a technicolor film, like you were inside the screen and could not notice the way he pay attention to your every move, to the way you moved and the way you talked, the way your legs moved around and danced and kneeled in the floor as you observed the play, the way you laughed and smiled like he hadn’t seen in so long.
He didn’t have any right to watch you like that, not after breaking your heart like he did. He didn’t have the right to be around you, to look into your eyes, to even talk to you. He was well aware that he should be kept far away from you, as far as possible, but still, he physically couldn’t
“Are you gonna stand there staring or are you gonna help me?”
Suddenly, all his thoughts faded.
You were still turned around, with two big boxes stacked on top of each other in your hands.
Yoongi cleared his throat when you spinned around, facing him. He was quick to run to you, taking the boxes off your hands and brushing his fingers with your hands in the process. You thanked him, grabbing two other boxes and walking towards the exit without a second glance. Yoongi figured you had to decorate the theater today, for which he was not needed at all, but since he was free today he figured he could help.
You set the boxes on one of the seats, opening the first one to reveal a bunch of Halloween decorations. The place was already decorated, of course, it has been since the beginning of October, but you explained to him that you needed to go ‘all in’ for the party. It needed to be professional level Halloween decorations, those were your words.
“Is Namjoon coming today?” You asked him, pulling a bag of fake spiders out of the box.
He inhaled sharply.
“Why?” The word came out of his mouth before he could think twice.
You raised your head to look at him, but he pretended not to notice, leaving the boxes on another seat. He didn’t mean to sound abrupt, but he did anyway.
“He helped me with some cobwebs the other day.” You explained, resuming what you were doing. “Since he’s so tall and all.”
Yoongi searched for a hint of amusement in your face, but he found none. Were you really this good at teasing him?
Why was he falling for it?
Standing there, frozen in his place, he must’ve looked like a complete idiot, he was sure. What was he supposed to answer?
Right, the truth. Even if he didn’t like it.
“He’s coming later this afternoon.” He said, and he could’ve stopped the sentence right there, but no. He had to say something else. “But I can help with the cobwebs.”
You turned your whole body to face him, putting a hand on your hip as you thought about it. Something he couldn’t describe flashed in your eyes for the shortest of seconds. He could have sworn he saw the ghost of a smirk in your face.
“Mmm, I don’t know.” You said softly. “We might need the stairs.”
He bitterly scoffed. Right, you were teasing him.
Not like before, that was probably impossible. You threw a snarky comment at him and then immediately drew an invisible line. Like it was already part of you to do so, but you had decided to stop it.
Like the other night last week, when he found you in Minnie’s office with a frown on your face as you tried to figure out Photoshop. You were supposed to finish the final flyer for the party when he walked in, ready to say goodbye before finishing his day.
“What are you doing?” He couldn’t help but ask.
You were hunched over, with glasses on as you squinted at the computer, too focused to be annoyed at his presence. When you explained your situation, he dragged a chair next to you as he attempted to help you.
Yoongi didn’t know why. The truth was that he had no idea how to work Photoshop either, his presence there wasn’t useful at all. But he acted faster than he could think, as he had been doing lately, leaning in closer than necessary to look at the screen.
“This is a clear sign that you’re getting old.” He murmured next to you, grabbing the mouse and clicking some stuff to try to get the font right. Needless to say, he wasn’t doing much better than you.
“If I’m getting old, then what are you?” You murmured, crossing your arms above your chest and leaning back on the chair.
“You know you’re gonna be thirty soon, right?” He teased, still pretending he knew what he was doing.
You laughed despite yourself. “I’ve got a few good years before that happens. I’m practically a teenager.”
“You certainly act like one sometimes.” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching, his gaze flicking to yours for just a beat too long before he looked back at the screen.
You held an accusing finger towards him. “Watch it.”
He laughed under his breath. It was too dangerous, but every interaction, every word, every shared glance made him feel like he was floating on a cotton candy cloud. It was sweet and sticky and left him wanting more, but it faded too quickly on his tongue.
Then again, you always felt that way, so close but so far away. Always slipping through his fingers.
When he looked at you, he saw your glasses slipping down the bridge of your nose and your hair messy, probably from how many times your hands had run through it. He had to stop himself from asking if you wanted him to walk you home. He had been stopping himself from doing many things lately.
Just two days ago, he was reviewing The Alley’s permit documents and you were decorating the office as if it was as important as the party preparations. He felt his whole body temperature rising as if he had a fever.
“Okay, so the fire exits are all marked, the lights are compliant… but the emergency ladder by the stage still hasn’t been inspected,” He murmured, crossing his arms above his chest.
Yoongi heard you getting closer, but he only felt you when you peeked over his shoulders, eyes narrowing at the papers that were spread around like a battlefield. “That’s bad, I assume.” You said in a low voice, your breath close to his ear.
“Depends,” He said, feeling your shoulder brush with him as you stood beside him “If it’s not done by the council inspection, they could fine us, or worse.”
You leaned beside him, “You mean they could shut us down over a ladder?”
He nodded. “Wouldn’t be the first time something small turned into a disaster.”
“Perfect,” you said dryly, reaching for the pen in his hand without asking, your fingers brushing his.
His fingers twitched, his brain short-circuiting for half a second at the warmth of your touch. He didn’t mean to notice, didn’t mean to hold his breath, but he did.
“And what does ‘wiring compliance’ mean? Is that the lights, or the fog machine that almost killed Jungkook last week?”
Yoongi huffed, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Both. But mostly the fog machine.”
You let out a small groan. “You make it sound like this place is held together by tape.”
“Well…” he tried to joke, making you nudge his arm with your elbow.
You turned to him then, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. His eyes followed the movement before he could stop himself, your soft jaw, the curve of your neck, the faint glint of a thin gold chain just under your black t-shirt.
He was spiraling. His thoughts were faster than him, louder than him.
He closed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. God, he had to focus. He couldn’t be acting like this around you, he couldn’t be acting like this ever.
“Yoongi…?” You titled your head, voice soft. “Are you okay?”
No, he was not.
His name rolling off your tongue with so much ease made his stomach churn. He could feel his face growing hot, his thoughts were all over the place.
“Yeah, I just…” He sighed, “It’s just a headache.”
This wasn’t normal behavior, no. This was psychosis.
Or not. Perhaps he just needed to sleep. Or perhaps he needed to be kept away from you, just like he had been for the last four years. Perhaps he needed to go back to the life he’d been living — a life without you — where he came home from his boring job to his boring apartment, crawled into his too-big bed, and watched some boring show until he fell asleep, only to have a boring dream. Even his dreams were boring; it was like he didn’t allow himself to dream fully anymore. Maybe he never did.
And he was tired. He had been for quite a while. He felt his heart beating a little quieter with each passing day as he tried to ignore it.
But this life, the one he built with so much precision, was predictable. There were no surprises, no miscalculations, it was normal. He had his mom, he had Simon, he had Namjoon, he had Summer.
Right, Summer.
Summer, Summer, Summer.
Summer, who deserved someone who didn’t stare at other girls for way too long, or someone who didn’t think of someone else every waking second. Someone who didn’t doubt every choice they’ve ever made when they crossed looks with another girl.
The worst part was that Yoongi knew you weren’t just another girl. You were the girl with horns on her head, looking at him with angel eyes — the only one who had ever driven a stake through his chest. The only one he ever loved.
He wondered if Summer could feel it that day at the coffee shop. If she could sense it in the air, if she could hear his heart beating when he saw you across the room. It wasn’t right, none of it felt right.
Yoongi knew he was out of line, there was no need for anyone to remind him (Namjoon had already done it multiple times). But he insisted on it, tried to convince himself that was the life he chose, he was not going to regret it now.
It was too late.
There was a moment in time where a dangerous thought sneaked inside his mind every night. He would trade all of it if he could have you. That was exactly why he needed to leave you behind, even if it hurt in his bones, he had to let it go. He needed to. Even if he didn’t want to.
A few hours later, he tried to remind himself of it, but the universe thought otherwise.
“How’s your brother, by the way?” Yoongi heard the low voice of his so-called friend asking.“I haven’t seen him in a while.”
Kim Namjoon, or as Yoongi renamed him in his head, the traitor. Namjoon was the friend all the girls were always curious about. Yoongi had lost count how many times people had asked him if his friend was single, he had this charm that drove girls crazy. Yoongi never felt threatened about it, not until he decided to tease him with it every time you were in the room.
Yoongi observed you giving him a bright smile, climbing on the stairs and hanging up yet another cobweb beside him as he hung a big green sign on the wall. “He’s fine, working a lot as always.” You answered, clearly delighted at the sight of Namjoon’s skills.
“He’s not coming to the party, I assume.” Namjoon laughed, showing off his dimples.
“Oh, no. He’s too cool for that.” You laughed along with him, making Yoongi feel like someone just punched him in the stomach. “He bought a few tickets for the raffle, though. But I doubt he would be interested in any of the prices.”
“C’mon, wouldn’t he be interested in a tarot reading session?” His friend joked, and Yoongi would’ve laughed if it didn’t feel like he was flirting with you. He was already thinking the exact way he was going to punch Namjoon when he found him alone.
You chuckled “He would roll his eyes at that.”
“Sounds like someone I know.” Yoongi said from the stairs, intruding in the conversation.
The room went quiet for a moment. If it weren’t for the sixth Justin Bieber song playing in the background (Jungkook was testing the DJ set), it would’ve been completely silent.
One of the things that scared Yoongi the most about you, was the fact that you weren’t afraid to look him directly in the eyes, and right now you were piercing through his soul.
“Me?” You asked, playing nonchalant. “I like tarot.”
“I know you like tarot.” He simply said “I meant the eye-rolling thing.”
You shot a quick look at Namjoon, who was smiling with his eyes.
“I suppose you’re quite similar to your brother.” He said, trying to save the awkward moment.
“You think?” You sighed, going back to ignore Yoongi “I always thought we were so different. As different as people can be.”
“You are.” Namjoon confirmed, and Yoongi suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, what the fuck did he know? “From what I remember from high school he was, uh… something. And nothing like you, but somehow, similar.”
You snorted, probably knowing exactly what Namjoon meant. Simon was not just a player, he was the player. A complete menace.
“My mom always said that.” You nodded, looking down at your notebook. “Like there are parts of him in me and parts of me in him. I don’t think I fully understood what she meant, though.”
Yoongi climbed down the stairs, standing in front of you yet far enough so his heart wouldn’t start beating too fast. He bent his knees just enough to look at you eye to eye. “You have the same smile lines.”
He, more than anyone, knew how similar you were to Simon. He knew both of you like the palm of his hand, you had the same laugh, and the same shape of eyes. Neither of you liked sea food and you pouted the same way when you were upset. There were huge differences, tough; you were way prettier than him, way funnier, and had way better taste in music and in movies.
Yoongi ignored it for years, but being around his friend reminded him constantly of you, not only because Simon always talked about you, but because he was an older version of you.
But then, it clicked just a second after. That wasn’t something he was supposed to say out loud.
There were no rules between the two of you beyond the truce, no agreement had been made of how to act around each other, besides trying not to kill yourselves when working together. And if they were, he had forgotten all of it.
It was ridiculous, he knew. It was laughable, he was sure you would laugh at him in another situation. He tried to set boundaries, yet the urge to break each one of them every time you looked at his direction was overwhelming.
You blinked, startled, but he could tell you tried to hide it.
“I…” You said, and it sounded like you were holding your breath. “I guess we look quite similar.”
You stared at him for what it felt like hours, days, months, years, but it was not enough time to decipher what you were thinking. You looked at him as if you were trying to tell him something, a secret message, something only the two of you could understand, but he failed to understand.
And as fast as it came, it left. You looked down at your feet, cleared your throat and tried to act as if nothing happened, as if your eyes didn’t burn through his soul, as if he didn’t fuck this up once again.
“Uh… I have to go.” You said. “I have to- I forgot something.”
You turned around, walking towards the exit of the theater, leaving Yoongi with a hole in his chest.
But it wasn’t your fault, no. It was his. It had always been.
He stood there, staring at the exit as if he was waiting for you to come back.
“Dude, you’re such an idiot.” He heard Namjoon talk, making him lose his train of thought.
Yoongi rubbed his eyes, sighing. “Fuck you, I know.”
Little did Yoongi know that was just the beginning of his downfall.
For the rest of the week, Yoongi tried to escape from you.
Or at least that was how it felt.
He did his job, stood there when you needed him, but as soon as he was done, he disappeared. Maybe he was panicking, but he believed it was for the best, he no longer could allow himself to lose his mind every time you were around. He had to focus, and avoiding you seemed to be the most logical option, right?
He tried really hard, even if the universe seemed to be laughing at him.
It was like something was putting you in his way. On the hallways, on tiny closets, bumping in the kitchen when he was just trying to make himself a coffee. Brushing fingers when you handed him something, brushing shoulders when you walked past him. The other day you almost bumped foreheads with each other when you were trying to make your way towards the stage.
But then again, he was reminded that he was the one who put himself in that place.
He only had himself to blame, he couldn’t hide the truth even if he wanted to. It was laid in front of everyone’s eyes.
The Alley was one of the last places in this town that still held your essence. For the big hall, to the chairs of the theater and the room where he kissed you for the first time. The logical thing would be to stay away from it, to elongate his way home just to avoid passing by this street and never visit it again, but ever since that cold morning four years ago, he couldn’t seem to be kept away from it.
He was the one who offered legal help, the one who decided to be involved in every single detail, to come to help when he was not working, to let this place occupy his mind.
He was a logical man, of logical thoughts and logical actions. But this was the only thing he couldn’t explain with rational thinking .Yoongi knew the answer was so simple, yet so painful.
Of course it was because of you.
You.
Even if you weren’t there, it was always you.
“Yoongi.”
He raised his head towards the owner of the voice.
You, again.
He nodded in agreement, even though he didn’t have a clue what you were saying.
You laughed under your breath. “So?”
Yoongi was sitting front row in the theater, counting the minutes to leave and take a nap. The Alley was showing Scream before the party, so that meant he had about two hours to sleep and prepare before showing up.
Minnie was finally back again, so that meant the day was a whirlwind of activity. She paraded around full of energy, filling every corner of the place with screams of excitement, anger, and joy. It made Yoongi miss you in charge, even if you were still strict and people were intimidated by you, you spoke softer, calmer.
You were sitting on the edge of the stage, right in front of him, with your phone in your hands. Yoongi noticed that you were wearing purple glitter in your eyes today, he figured it had to do with the holiday, but what made him pay attention was the hint of amusement in your face… What did you just ask him?
“Sorry, I zoned out for a minute.” He said, shaking his head. “What were you saying?”
“Minnie is asking what are you wearing tonight.” You showed him the screen of your phone, shaking it in front of his face.
“Uh…” He hesitated to reply, because maybe he should save the answer for himself. “I don’t know, I’ll figure something out with what I have.”
You shot him a glare. “She’s not going to be happy about that.”
“I’ll make her happy enough.”
At least he learnt to keep his mouth shut. Or something like that.
He didn’t want to tell you that Summer had texted him this morning asking him the same question. She had been asking the same thing for days now, and each time she received the same answer, so she had decided to take the matter in her own hands.
Yoongi had no idea what that meant, but Summer told him not to worry about it and that she would handle it. It scared him a little.
You kept texting, probably informing Minnie about his situation. He could already hear the amount of insults he would receive if he didn’t show up in a costume, for a moment he prayed that Summer’s back up plan worked.
He sank deeper in the chair, already tired.
He should’ve been home by now, but for some reason he prolonged his time there, claiming that he wanted to help until the last minute in case something went wrong.
And you should’ve been home, too. But you were there, enjoying the silence in his company like you had been doing every day for the past two weeks. And for some strange reason, it wasn’t weird.
It wasn’t comfortable either, Yoongi knew this. But it was like you began acting in this automatic way where feelings weren’t allowed, he could tell. He wished he could do the same, but instead he found himself getting lost in his thoughts more often than he wished.
There, with his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on your knees. You were wearing combat boots, a plaid dark purple skirt and a black sweater. The gold chain wrapped around your neck.
The gold chain.
Wrapped around your neck.
There he goes again.
Trying to snap out of it, he asked “What are you wearing?” He could only hope he didn’t sound too awkward, but you seemed to be used to him by now. You didn’t flinch when he talked to you, you didn’t look like you wanted to kill him… all the time.
You shrugged, your feet swinging back and forth. “I didn’t have much time to think. I’ll come up with something, too.”
That night, The Alley was wrapped in cobwebs and flashing neon lights coming from the laser projector. The laughter cut through the loud music, the fog machine was breathing in and out like an old lung, the whole place smelled like weed, smoke and melted wax. Even if The Alley didn’t have the highest of budgets, it managed to disguise the whole place as a haunted house.
The movie ended long ago, so people in costumes were dispersed all over the halls, the bathrooms, the kitchen, the bar and the backyard. There was a buzz in the air, something that made his heart pound.
Most nights, the weak yellow lights barely reached the ceiling, but tonight seemed like a completely different place, like a memory buried deep inside Yoongi’s mind.
In the end, Summer had somewhat saved him. She arrived at his apartment with nothing more than a red vest in her hands, making Yoongi more confused than he already was.
She was wearing this sparkly pink dress, a glittery crown and had a magic wand in her hand. Her hair was tied up in a half pony tail and her lips were so glossy they shined.
“I’m Glinda!” She explained with a smile on her face. “And you’re supposed to be Fiyero.”
That didn’t make Yoongi less confused, as if he knew what any of those words meant, for his sake, he decided to go along with her.
Luckily, Summer made sure that Yoongi understood their costumes. “It’s from Wicked.” She said, rolling her eyes. “Glinda is Fiyero’s girlfriend.”
Then, Summer proceeded to talk about the new movie and the plot, the characters, the songs, but she made Yoongi promise to keep a secret: she didn’t watch it all the way through. He couldn’t blame her, because he hadn’t seen it either.
He was thankful that she saved him, but the idea of a couple’s costume made his stomach twist.
It wasn’t like he didn’t like Summer. He did, he had never dated someone for this long. She was funny, kind and his mom loved her. Those were the main reasons why he decided to ask her out, and why he kept spending time with her. But lately it felt like coming down from a high, it felt right at first, like something like he was supposed to do, but soon enough felt wrong. He was too afraid to admit it, to say it out loud, to accept the fact that he didn’t feel anything when he kissed her.
He tried to be rational, he tried. Why wouldn’t he want to be with her? She was beautiful and nice, she was there, with the whitest of smiles, willing to make this night worth it, he figured he should. He had to.
He put on the vest on top of his white shirt and hoped that Minnie would think this was an acceptable costume. If he was lucky, no one would ask him about it. If he was lucky, he could pass unnoticed for the rest of the night and go to bed early.
Perhaps you were right, this was way past his bed time. He wasn’t used to parties like this anymore, maybe when he was twenty and Simon dragged him to frat parties just to get drunk out of their minds on a Wednesday, but now it was a completely different story. Regardless of that, tonight the thread in his chest was pulling him in, making him stay.
And then, he saw you.
He was a bit late, so the party had already started by the time he arrived. It was full of people, more than Yoongi would’ve imagined, and he thought he was safe because maybe he wouldn’t see you for a while at first, but when he walked into the room, you were the first thing he saw.
He pretended he didn’t feel it, but it wrecked a part of his soul. Seeing you there, coming down the stage wearing a short strapless black dress, too short for his own sake, green tights and a pointy witch hat over your head. He was hit by a flashback so vivid it made him dizzy.
You, on a black dress.
You, on top of him.
You, on his bed.
When he turned right, there was Summer. Bright and flashy and full of excitement. She saw you too.
Before Yoongi could snap out of it, Summer grabbed his arm, dragging him directly in your direction. “Oh my God, let’s go say hi!” She exclaimed, cheerful.
Not this again.
She surfed through the sea of people, trying to reach the stage where you were still standing, in the last step of the stage. It wasn't that high, but you were eye to eye with him.
Your eyes caught his, sparkling under the neon lights in the dark. You had a dark but subtle make up that made your gaze sharper and glossy lips. You held his stare for a second and then, your eyes fell on Summer.
“You look stunning!” She yelped as soon as she got the chance.
You seemed surprised and a bit startled, but there was no bitterness in your eyes, no sign of being upset, not like last time you encountered the two of them.
“You actually came.” You said softly, your tone light. His chest tightened at the casualness.
“We did.” he muttered, tugging at the collar of his Fiyero outfit like it could shield him from yet another uncomfortable situation. You, however, didn’t seem shaken at all. There it was again, that smile that decorated your lips when you were working in the play, when you were decorating the halls, when you were testing the DJ set. You seemed happy.
“I had to make him dress up.” Summer explained to you as if you were friends, but you didn’t seem to mind.
“I figured that much.” You smiled gently, taking a good look at their outfits. “So… Glinda?” You glanced at Summer. The motion sent a shiver down Yoongi’s spine.
Summer nodded repeatedly, probably relieved that you were in a good mood tonight. “And are you Elphaba?”
“I don’t know, I guess I tried?” You scrunched your nose “What about you, Fiyero?”
He shook his head, trying not to roll his eyes. “Don’t ask me any questions.”
“I knew you weren’t that fun. I bet you didn’t even watch the movie.” You accused him, making Summer laugh.
“I have a costume, don’t I?” He sighed.
“Barely.” You said, turning to Summer again. “You look beautiful by the way.” Summer almost melted on the spot. “There's an open bar until one a.m, and pizza in the kitchen. Enjoy the night.”
You reached the floor, waving goodbye and disappearing into the crowd, leaving both of them speechless.
As soon as he reached the bar, he asked for a beer.
“Never thought I’d see you drunk.” Jungkook’s bubbly voice filled Yoongi’s ears as they leaned on the wall, watching the party unfold.
“I’m not drunk.” He said, taking the beer bottle to his lips one more time.
The room was dark, and he could barely see the faces of the people dancing in front of him, or where Summer was, or who took her to dance after he told her that he preferred to stay there for a while.
“Yeah, and I’m not high.” Jungkook laughed. He was dressed as a skeleton, he had a black body suit clung to his frame, the bones were printed down his chest and arms, but he was still wearing dark jeans and combat boots. Still, the most impressive part of his outfit was the make up on his face, it looked like it was done in a hurry and yet it looked impressive enough. There was black paint smudged under his eyes and jaw, making his bone structure more noticeable. He told him one of the girls from the staff offered to do it for him ten minutes before the party started.
It wasn’t too elaborate, but it earned him the third spot in the costume contest. He had been wearing the brown medal on his neck all night, absolutely proud of it.
Yoongi checked the clock on his phone and realized it wasn’t even one am, and even if he wouldn’t admit it, it was too early to be this drunk.
Still, he kept drinking.
“What do you think of her?” The question travelled through the loud sound of S&M by Rihanna, making him raise his gaze to look at Jungkook looking at a specific point in the dancefloor.
A bit confused, he followed Jungkook’s gaze and froze.
You were dancing with Minnie, laughing and breathless in the center of the crowd, your body moving to the beat as if the music was part of you. The lights kept shifting, washing over your bare skin in flashes violet and red, tracing the curve of your neck, your legs. Your hair was loose, flowing all over the place.
He gulped. “What about her?”
Jungkook laughed under his breath, as if it was obvious. “I’ve been thinking of asking her to dance.” He confessed. “Or is it too soon?”
He forced a small laugh, even though his throat felt dry.
“Too soon?” He repeated, his eyes glued to you like he was hypnotized.
“You know, she just got out of a relationship with that asshole.” Jungkook explained, bringing the disgusting image of your ex to Yoongi’s mind.
“Ah, that fucker, yes.” He hummed. “But you’re worrying about the wrong thing, kid. I think you’d have to actually reach her first.”
Jungkook chuckled, not catching the edge of his voice. “C’mon, man. I may not be a movie star, but I’m good enough.”
He was right. Jungkook was no movie star, but he was exactly the type of guy you used to drool over when you were fourteen watching MTV. The kind of guys were tall, had piercings and dressed all in black, which made Yoongi shift uncomfortably.
He tried to focus on the music, on the crowd, on anything else beside you, but every small movement you made seemed to burn itself into his mind.
Jungkook was okay, but you were a different kind of girl. Way out of everyone’s league, even his.
“Well, maybe for any other girl.” He shrugged, trying to sound detached. “But for her? You’re aiming… pretty high, don’t you think?”
Jungkook paused for a second, but Yoongi was in a haze, way too drunk to try to imagine what was happening in Jungkook’s mind, way too drunk to care. “That sounds like a challenge to me.” He said with a grin.
Jungkook stepped forward, leaving his place next to Yoongi to dive into the crowd towards you, but you didn’t notice him yet, you were too caught up in the music.
Yoongi tried to follow each movement in the dark as he felt his stomach tighten, his hands twitching, itching to do something, say something, even if he knew it was wrong.
Maneater by Nelly Furtado began blasting when Jungkook reached you, you noticed him and smiled, grabbing the hand he just offered to you.
The fact that you’ve barely spoken to him during the whole night was almost painful, which was ridiculous. He came with someone else, and you were free to do whatever you wanted, even if that was dancing with Jungkook.
Jungkook pulled you towards him, making you giggle as he made you spin. Yoongi wanted to look away, to stop paying attention to the grip of Jungkook’s hands on your waist, or the way your hips moved, the way your hair danced with you, but he couldn’t. Maybe because he knew that was all he had, that was what he had to settle for.
So he observed from the dark corner of the room where nowhere could see him. He had his eyes so focused on you as if you were about to disappear at any moment. Maybe you were, maybe this was just an oasis in the middle of the desert, a brief moment where you appeared, wrecked his word, made him doubt himself until you broke him, and then you would disappear back to your normal life. A life without him.
Then, when the song ended, right before another one began, you looked around and accidentally glanced back briefly, catching his eyes as he took another sip of his beer. Neither of you said or did anything, nor an acknowledging smile or a vague wave, the both of you stood in the distance, staring at each other with eyes filled with poison.
It was three a.m when Yoongi thought the night should be over, but no one seemed to agree with him. The party was still at its peak, the music was still blasting from the speakers, people kept dancing, drinking, kissing.
He had already danced a little when Summer begged him to, he had drunk more than enough, talked a bunch of nonsense with Namjoon all night, tried to ignore you dancing with Jungkook and focus on the girl beside him, the girl he had come here with in the first place, but it was difficult to focus on anything at all when he was this drunk.
The night wasn’t going any faster either. It dragged slowly, the way he figured it would go when you felt this miserable.
Now he was ready to leave and end this night once for all. Summer had gathered her things and seemed to have had enough of it as well, but when he was about to be out the door, Minnie appeared behind him, her voice tight with exhaustion. “There’s a problem backstage with the cables and the fog machine. It’s cutting in and out.”
He frowned, confused, why would she want him to fix that right now? He wanted to tell her to turn it off and call it a night. “Right now?”
Minnie pouted, putting her hands together in a plea. “Pretty please. I won’t ask anything else from you.”
“I highly doubt that.” He let out a chuckle, too tired to fight back.
“What if it explodes?” She exaggerated, but she was right, and he was already drunk enough to feel confident he could handle it.
“Alright, take me there.” he muttered, leaving Summer behind for a moment.
She took him to a tiny storage space behind the stage, full of coiled cables and equipment. There was a faint yellow light that poorly illuminated the tight closet, which made Yoongi aware that he was not as sober as he thought, but he was going to try anyway. The fog machine sat on the floor, making a loud sound that almost left Yoongi deaf.
“Here, look at this,” Minnie said, pointing to a tangle of wires. “It’s probably just a loose connection, but-”
“Got it,” Yoongi interrupted, already crouching beside the mess, taking in the problem. “Where are the tools?”
Minnie straightened, rubbing her temples. “Hold on, they are in another room. I’ll be back.”
Then, he left him there, sitting on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. The only sound in the tiny room was the old fog machine who threatened to kill him at any moment.
He was supposed to be on his way home by now. He was hot, tired, drunk and needed a glass of water and maybe a shower too. His whole word was spinning, he was just realizing.
After a few minutes, he heard steps approaching, but it wasn’t Minnie’s hurried pace he was so used to hearing. He saw your feet covered by your green tights first, it looked like you had gotten rid of your shoes a long time ago.
“What’s that sound?” You asked, making him glance up. You stood there with the box of tools in your hands. Your cheeks were flushed, and your witch hat was gone, probably lost somewhere on the dance floor after one of those spins Jungkook had pulled you into. That’s what Yoongi imagined, anyway. “What are you doing on the floor?”
Yoongi blinked and returned to his crouched position beside the fog machine. “What are you doing here?” He asked, narrowing his eyes to look at you clearly.
You knelt down next to him, careful not to step on the scattered cables. The hem of your black dress shifted higher, but you didn’t notice or maybe you didn’t care. You just swept your hair over one shoulder so it wouldn’t get in the way. “Minnie handed me the tools and sent me here, I think it was because Thrilled started playing and she didn’t want to miss it.” Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh. He was there fixing this mess and she was out on the dance floor. “What are you doing, by the way?” You asked curiously.
“Minnie asked me to fix it,” he muttered, his voice rough and slightly slurred.
Yoongi averted your gaze, pretending to focus on the mess of wires in front of him. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and turned on the flashlight since the weak light on the ceiling was useless.
“She really couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” you asked, your voice carrying that teasing softness he knew too well.
“She said the fog machine was the soul of the party,” he said, rummaging through the box until he found a screwdriver. His hands weren’t steady—too much alcohol, too little patience—but he started tightening the loose clamp anyway, muttering something under his breath as if the wires could hear him.
You leaned in, close enough for him to catch the faint smell of your plump perfume over the smell of the old closet. “She’s not lying, though.” You said, grabbing the phone off his hands without permission, your hands brushing together without care.
“Are you sure?” He asked before he could stop himself. “I thought you were the soul of the party.”
You scoffed, “Why is that?”
“I don’t know.” He said so low it might as well could be a whisper. “You danced all night long with that kid.”
“Jungkook, you mean?” He hummed in response. You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Well, I had to make up for those who weren’t dancing.”
Yoongi snorted, half amused. “I danced.”
You shot him a look, it was playful, but it felt way too intimate. “If that’s what you call dancing, sure.”
He twisted a loose wire between his fingers, pretending to focus on it. “So you were watching.”
“I paid attention.” You hummed. Maybe you were a bit drunk, too, otherwise you wouldn't be so willing to help him at this hour of the night. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“No.” He let out a low chuckle without looking up, “I mean, yeah. Don’t worry. I’m just… not in my five senses right now.”
“You’re drunk.” You said, laughing under your breath. “But it’s okay, I am too. And a little high.”
“I’m not drunk.” he muttered, squinting at the mess of wires like they were moving on their own. “Not that drunk, anyway.”
You arched a brow, the corner of your mouth twitching. “Should I trust you not to set this place on fire?”
“No, not at all.” He chuckled, ignoring the way you rolled your eyes.
There was a pause, a quiet silence despite the loud sound of the fog machine and the music outside. Yoongi thought that was it, the end of the conversation. A rare glimpse of you, and the version he used to know, until-
“So…” You said, making him flinch. “You didn’t watch Wicked.”
“I can’t say I did.” He shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the tangle of wires. “I just wore what she gave me.”
She. It was ridiculous. He couldn’t even bring himself to say her name in front of you.
“Obviously,” you muttered, letting out a small sigh.
“Why?” he asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Am I not the target audience for Wicked?”
“Well, no. I don’t think so,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “But also because… you should know this, Fiyero and Glinda are a terrible choice for a couple’s costume.”
“Why, exactly?” His curiosity got the better of him.
“Mmm… because Fiyero doesn’t end up with Glinda at the end.”
His gaze lifted, locking onto yours. “Is that right?” You hummed, nodding, “Who does he end up with, then?”
Yoongi watched his lips twitch into a smile, but you shook your head. “I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you.”
It sent him into a spiral. The light of his flashlight illuminated your face, catching the way you slightly bit your lower lip,soft, and tempting. His chest tightened as his eyes traced the curve of your mouth, the mouth he had kissed so many times.
He tried to look away, but couldn’t. His gaze drifted down, to your defined jaw, your exposed neck and the faint shimmer of the gold chain resting just above the curve of your chest, the low neckline of your dress in front of him and the heat pooling in his stomach, making impossible to focus on whatever the fuck he was supposed to be fixing.
“Be careful, Fiyero.” You suddenly said, pushing his chin up with your finger. “I might hex you if you stare too much.”
Yoongi cheekily smirked, not ashamed at all for being caught, “I think I’m already cursed.” He murmured.
You swallowed, looking at him like he just said something he wasn’t supposed to.
A beat of silence stretched between you before he spoke again, too fast, like the words had been sitting on his tongue for hours.
“It’s not a couple’s costume,” he blurted out.
Your eyebrows drew together. “What?”
“Me and Summer…” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It’s not- we’re not-”
You tilted your head, eyes narrowing. “It’s not what? Not serious?”
“No, I mean- I think what I want to say is that it’s nothing.”
You pressed your lips together, and for a moment, he thought you were going to laugh at him. “You don’t need to explain anything to me.”
He clicked his tongue, nodding. “I know.”
But you held his haze, watching his parted lips, waiting for him to say something else, to explain himself, to give you a different answer, and then, the machine hissed loudly, letting out a burst of white smoke that made the two of you flinch.
“See? Not that drunk.” He whispered, his face way too close to yours.
You drew in a sharp breath, chest rising and falling. Something shifted in your eyes—Yoongi couldn’t place what—but it made you pull back and stand up immediately.
He rose to his feet right after you, your eyes still locked. You pressed his phone into his chest, returning it, and his hand closed over yours.
For some reason, you didn’t pull away.
Yoongi’s gaze flicked down to your mouth and back up, feeling the heat of your stare. “That still gets me, you know.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“The way you look at me,” he murmured, voice low.
Opening your eyes widely, you shook your head in denial. “You’re imagining things now.”
“Maybe.” He leaned slightly, closing the space between you and him bit by bit. “But if I am… You’re not exactly running.”
You stiffened for a moment, dropping your cold hand from his soft grip, but you were unable to escape his proximity. Your eyes flicked to his lips before darting away.
“I should go.” You murmured so low it might as well have been a secret.
“Then go.”
But you didn’t, and neither did he. The fog from the machine curled around your ankles, a soft white haze that made the closet feel smaller than it already was.
Yoongi exhaled slowly, “Can I ask you what’s happening?” His voice was rough, hesitant. The alcohol could have made it easier to ask, but harder to articulate.
You swallowed, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands. “Nothing is happening.” Your words were almost a whisper, and your gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before flicking up at him again. “You’re drunk.”
“But it is.” He rubbed the back of his neck, swaying slightly on his feet. “Because I can’t-because I shouldn’t. But… here we are.”
Dead silence stretched, thick and suffocating. You didn’t know what to say, he already knew.
“Don’t you remember what you told me that day?” you finally murmured. His gaze searched for any sharpness in your eyes, but there was none. You looked at him with tenderness, like a past memory, an old feeling.
“I remember everything,” he admitted, and for a moment, you looked down at your feet, as if trying to anchor yourself.
“I do too,” you whispered. “You told me it shouldn’t have happened. That it was best to forget… for everyone’s sake. Didn’t you say that?”
He nodded slowly. His chest ached, a hollow squeeze in his heart. “Yes,” he murmured. “But… what if I’m the one who can’t forget?”
You didn’t answer, just shifted slightly, and he stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. His arm lifted, resting against the wall beside you, caging you.
His eyes flicked down to your lips, then back to your eyes, searching, daring. The closet felt impossibly small, the fog machine’s hiss and the hum of the wires fading into the background.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the two of you. “Yoongi, it’s been years…” You said, “I did exactly what you told me, what can I do now?”
“I know, I know.” He swallowed, his throat tight, as if the words themselves were heavy. “It’s just… I’m tired. So tired…”
The world around him blurred, the air was too heavy. He didn’t understand why you hadn’t left, why you hadn’t punched him, cursed him, or sent him straight to hell along with all his regrets. And yet, here you were, standing so close he could feel the warmth radiating from you, listening.
“Yoongi… do you know…” Your voice trembled slightly, taking a deep breath. “Do you know how many years I’ve waited for you?”
The question hung between you, catching him off guard. He raised his eyebrows, opening his eyes widely as he shook his head, unsure if he could utter a word.
“Me neither,” you whispered, your voice was laced with so much sweetness it made Yoongi want to throw up. Still, you moved just a fraction closer, until the scent of you filled the space between them. “But even so… they’re more than the years I haven’t waited for you. I’ve got to change that.”
He nodded, your words settling deeply in his chest. You were right, you couldn’t do anything about it, it was his fault. Why was he even bringing this up? Why was he here? Why were you here with him, in this closet, caged between heavy breaths and unspoken words like so many years ago?
It was over, he knew. He always knew it.
Then, why?
Why, why, why couldn't he forget about you? Why did he keep running away? Why did he keep dating girls who were the exact opposite as you to avoid thinking of you? To try to forget you?
It was written here, in this town, in these walls, in his old bed, in the same dancefloor where he kissed you for the first time, in his hands, his chest, his mind, his heart.
What you had was something so deeply attached to his soul that he was afraid he would have to carry it like a cross for the rest of his life.
He wanted you to free him from it, to forgive him, to make him forget. He wanted to say sorry, to make up for it, this time for real.
When he opened his mouth to speak, to do something about it, the spell broke.
“There you are!” A bubbly voice cut through the silence, making Yoongi jump in place, his chest tightening as he realized how exposed the two of you were. You stiffened, instinctively stepping backwards, your sudden movement shattering the fragile tension.
Yoongi’s gaze flicked to Summer. Her face had gone pale, her expression unreadable, but her eyes… they told him everything he already knew, everything he shouldn’t have let happen.
“I… uh…” Yoongi muttered, trying to compose himself, his hand dropping from the wall to his side.
You swore under your breath, cheeks hot, and muttered, “I’m sorry, I should go.”
Before Yoongi could breathe, you stepped further from him. You didn’t have to apologize for anything, it was him who did.
He watched you walk out the door, leaving him with a hole carved in the middle of his chest, bleeding.
“What happened?” Summer spoke, her voice weak.
He looked at her, wanting to ask the same question. “Shall we go?”
On the way out, Yoongi almost collided with Minnie by the door. She was leaning against Namjoon, sharing a cigarette, the smoke curling around them like a small cloud. Their eyes lit up when they saw him.
“Did you fix it?” Minnie asked, a smile tugging at her lips as if she already knew the answer.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “But that thing doesn’t have much longer, I already told you.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She rolled her eyes, taking a slow drag from her cigarette. “Where’s your girl, by the way?”
Yoongi exhaled, the weight of the night pressing down on him. “She’s in the bathroom. We’re about to leave.”
Minnie hummed, a teasing note in her voice. “Did you have fun?”
“I think we did,” he replied, but his voice lacked conviction.
“Mmm, I don’t believe you for one minute.”
Yoongi wanted to laugh—he really did—but the hole that ached in his chest made it impossible.
His eyes drifted to the faint traces of smoke curling in the air, his thoughts wandering to the closet, the fog machine, your silly tone before he fucked everything up again.
“Can I ask you something?” he said, and Minnie’s gaze snapped to him, immediately attentive.
“What is it?”
“Have you seen Wicked?”
“Of course, what kind of question is that?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.
“Well… do you know who Fiyero ends up with at the end?” he asked, a hint of hesitance in his voice.
A mischievous smile spread across Minnie’s face. “Easy. With the Wicked Witch of the West.”
i know the majority of you don’t read member x member BUT HEAR ME OUT
In the fanfic, the reader has a relationship with Yoongi, but if I'm not mistaken, he was with Taehyung in the past. So, in the fanfic, they have a polyamorous relationship (poly AU). In the story, they're at a party, and Taehyung is kind of a player, so he's with a girl, and Yoongi is jealous. The reader knows he wants her, so she says something like, "Do you want me to go over and ask him?" and Yoongi replies, "Yes." There's even a moment when the reader is talking to Jungkook, and Yoongi had gone out for a smoke. Yoongi says he just wants to watch, but then ends up joining them.
From what I remember, the fanfic had a red banner and I read it on Tuesday and I could swear I liked it, but I can't find it anymore.
╰┈➤ still with you, one hop at a time. leave some love in the tags! ⋆｡°✩
For now there will only be Yoongi related fics, if in the future I decide to do any other bangtan member then I’ll create a designated masterlist for them
A matter of letting go [1] eng. | Teacher Yoongi Au
Pairing: Min Yoongi x f.reader
Genre: fluff, angst, smut eventually
Sumary: Min Yoongi is one step away from achieving his dream, the one for which he went against his parents, the one for which he had to leave behind the most important people in his life. He was about to feel it within reach, when an unfortunate event forced him to stand in front of a classroom side by side with the one person he never stopped loving.
A/N: Hey there! This is a first for me, am still a little squeaky at my writing in english so am apologizing in advance of the next chapter in hopes that, at least, it's readable and enjoyable. As always, you can leave a coment, share it, also, you can give me recommendations, suggestions or corrections of any kind. Thank u for read. 💌
Everything had fallen into complete darkness. The voices reached him from far away, muffled and swallowed by the abandonment of consciousness. He could still feel the people near him, even as it felt like his soul had left his body.
He blacked out.
Just moments before, an unbearable heaviness had settled on the back of his head and nape, absorbing the news as the faces and objects around him began to spin. The annoying tinnitus in his ear made him stand up, only to fall into the void.
He blacked out.
That very morning, everything had a diferent feeling to it. From the moment he woke up, he carried the feeling that this day would steer his life to a new direction. So he dragged himself out of bed with his usual tiredness, his phone clinging to its last bit of battery, and the deafening silence filling his apartment.
Everything seemed to indicate that Yujin, his roommate, had left earlier than usual. She’d left her coffee cup beside her forgotten set of keys near the door. Still, he didn’t spare it a second though as he stepped out.
Skipping breakfast, as had become his habit, he headed to the coffee-bar right in front of his building, looking for Yujin, as she worked there — just like he used to invest countless of nights working there for minimum wage —, so they could talk about the upcoming bills, while enjoying a large cup of coffee.
To his surprise, Yujin wasn’t behind the counter, or anywhere in sight. None of her coworkers knew where she’d gone, so, a little intrigued, he tried calling her, but his phone had finally given in to its dead battery. Resigned, he took his usual order — the one the staff already knew by heart —, and made his way back to the building's parking lot to grab his car. It was time to head to the recording label.
He was currently an intern in the special program for new producers, at the record label where his best friend, Namjoon, worked. It was thanks to Joon, and his family’s influence, that he’d even managed to get his papers and demos submitted.
He’d brought in a handful of melodies he’d written during his late-night shifts at the café, good enough to catch the ears of the higher-ups. Still, competition for a spot was fierce, and with his lack of experience, he’d had no choice but to start from the bottom as an intern.
That didn't discourage him in any way. He was grateful to Joon, and even for his part-time job at the bar-café, as he could pursue his dream of becoming a producer while still keeping a roof over his head.
Eventually, after pushing himself hard enough, he’d made it through to the second stage of the program by presenting his thesis in Music Production. And now here he was, on his way to present his latest masterpiece: an EP he'd been working tirelessly on, and for which he'd decided to quit his job as a barista to dedicate as much time and dedication as possible.
Sliding into his car, he patted the pockets of his jacket to make sure the USB, holding his project, was safe. It was. Yet a heavy feeling still pressed against his chest, as if he’d forgotten something important. He couldn't help but associate it with the importance of that day.
On the drive, he didn’t dare plug the USB into his stereo, even though he normally played his drafts on repeat on his way. “One careless mistake could ruin everything”, he kept telling himself. So instead, he drove on in silence, the dull chatter of morning radio stations filling the space.
By the time he reached the building, his anxiety levels had spiked high, and refused to calm as he walked through the reception and boarded the elevator. It had become a daily state for him, so he felt a sense of pride when he thought about his hard work.
Despite the way his body and mind dragged him down, despite the suffocating grind of work and uncertainty, he had managed to focus on his desires and inspirations, on his senses and instincts, when creating his songs.
He realized too late, as he stepped into the cramped studio he shared, that he had forgotten his noise-canceling headphones at home. In that tiny workspace, they were essential, not only because privacy and space were scarce, but also out of respect for his senior producer, who showed him the same courtesy in return.
So, instead of asking anyone to change their habits, he simply used the headphones whenever he needed to write his lyrics. Even though his senior was on medical leave, there was always the chance his peace could be broken by the scatterbrained: Park Jisung.
And as if Jisung had some uncanny sense for the worst possible timing, he slipped through the door only seconds after Yoongi had sat down.
“You’re here,” the dark-haired boy noted from the doorway, his usual flat tone doing little to disguise his nosiness.
“We thought you’d be rushing with last-minute edits to your project, you know, with the deadline and all that stuff…” Jisung had a habit of blurting out his thoughts as if they belonged to everyone.
Out of the whole team, he was the only one convinced Yoongi would be scrambling that morning.
“I’m here, yes. And as for the final touches, they’re not big of a thing —nor any of your business,” he thought. “Just a few fine-tunings I can finish today during the day,” Yoongi replied curtly.
He didn’t spare another glance at his gaunt figure leaning against the doorway. Instead, he turned in his chair, slipped on his headphones, and tried to block out both the buzzing lights above and the boy’s petulant little voice.
But Jisung wasn’t finished.
"Still, today’s d-day. Nine a.m., sharp. Which means…” he tapped the clock above the doorframe, “…five minutes, Yoongs.”
Just as the color drained from Yoongi's face, he quickly left the room and headed to Nam's office, pushing past the nosy boy in the process.
His pulse thudded violently as he knocked on the door: no response.
He was on the verge of shouting, maybe even pounding his fists like a tantrum-throwing kid, when his back collided with someone.
The program's supervisor. His boss. Mr. Kang.
“Min Kid, what are you doing here wasting your time?”
The Min Kid in question stood there, petrified, as if his best moments in the company were passing before his eyes, as if the man in front of him were destiny itself, handing his failure into his hands.
“I assume you've already finished your project. If you’re here to deliver it, give it to me. Young Kim is waiting on me to review yesterday’s submissions—I’ll make sure yours is added to the list.”
Before Yoongi could stammer a word, Mr. Kang snatched the USB from his hand and dismissed him with a polite wave.
“Go back to your studio, or grab breakfast. You look exhausted. Everyone’s free to take lunch an hour early—just make sure you keep up the good work.”
With two firm pats on his back, Mr. Kang was gone, striding down the perfectly lit hallway.
Gone, with the USB that carried Yoongi’s life, his future. Everything.
He was willing to die before letting himself fail.
When he returned to the studio, the nosy black-haired man had left.
In the midst of relaxing for the first time that day, he decided to charge his phone and open his book-notes to distract his mind, if only for a moment.
The screen lit up with a flood of missed calls and unread messages, mostly from his mother, sent between the night before and just a few hours ago.
He ignored them for now. It was probably just another attempt to send him good luck or pry for details about the selection process. He locked the phone before it could pull him further away from what mattered: his lyrics and his coffee.
But the coffee hit his empty stomach like acid, and the familiar burn of gastritis clawed its way up his throat. Right then, a call from Yujin flashed across the screen, as an unexpected relief to his tense shoulders.
“Hey, what’s up?” He answered immediately, desperate to distract himself from the anxiety chewing at him while he waited.
He knew that if Namjoon was on the evaluation committee, he would intercede for him to be one of the first to be considered for evaluation, and while that was a nice touch, the anxiety of knowing it only made his nerves worse.
“Are you already at lunch?” The urgent, hurried tone of those words made him sit up straight. “Can you come to the train station?”
“I was just about to leave. I’m on my way,” he replied, puzzled by such a request. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
He hung up, as if this wasn't a casual call to keep up and then hurried out of the building to meet up with his roommate.
Fifteen minutes turn to twenty in the mid-morning traffic, then thirty when he couldn’t find a parking spot close enough to spare him from walking in the sun.
Finally, he made it inside the crowded station, scanning the place is search for her. He was looking for his phone when a hand yanked him by the arm.
“If I’d known you’d take this long, I would’ve just said it over the phone.”
Yoongi recognized when a person was irritable, so this time he decided to remain silent and wait for the girl, with her arms crossed and impassive face, to give him a reason to do so.
“I’ll make it quick. My train leaves in fifteen minutes, so I need to set things straight before I go.”
As the words made sense in her head, she scribbled numbers onto an old receipt. “This is my account number, my parents’ address, and the codes you’ll need for shipping details.”
She handed him the scrap of paper. He raised an eyebrow and grabbed it.
“Clearly you've made a plan,” he said carefully. “Would you mind letting me in on it?
For a beat, the air between them turned heavy, his confusion colliding with her attempt to run away, unnoticed.
“I quit the café. I’m going home.”
Yoongi nodded slowly, gesturing for her to continue the explanation, but when silence stretched on, he finally pushed:
“What happened to wanting to be a singer? You know the work we did was good. The opportunity is right there...why- why walk away now?”
Her eyes flicked from her watch to him, back and forth. With a sigh, she looked directly at Yoongi, who avoided her eyes out of habit, but if he hadn’t, he might have caught the shadow of betrayal hiding in them.
“The truth is… it was never really my dream. It’s yours. If you get in, it’ll be all yours,” she murmured, a trace of guilt tugging at her voice. “And if you don’t, there’s nothing more I can do to help.”
“I need to move on. I can’t keep living like this…waiting for one of us to make it while the other works their ass off just to keep the apartment afloat.”
“You were the one who suggested this,” Yoongi snapped, irritation rising with his hunger. “So what are you talking about now?”
He looked at her for a few seconds, wondering: if giving up made her feel guilty, why did she do it?
Silence stretched thick between them. Around them, the station buzzed with people chasing trains, buying tickets, finding seats, walking in and out of entrances.
But for Yoongi and Yujin, time seemed to hang heavy, pinned down by the weight of everything remaining unspoken.
Finally, she broke it.
“I’m just tired, Yoon.” Her voice cracked under something she couldn’t admit. “I have to go.”
“Fine. If you’re set on leaving… I won’t stop you.” His eyes dropped to the paper he was twisting in his hands, “but what’s this for?”
“I didn’t pay the rent this month,” she said flatly, but she could no longer generate any reaction from Yoongi, or so she thought.
“I’m sure with your new producer contract you’ll manage. Find another roommate, and once you’re financially stable, send me the deposit back to that account.”
"The address is where you should send my things, like the coffee maker and the bedding. Do it when you have the deposit money, so you can pay with it."
His expression was unreadable, his mind caught somewhere far away.
Over the speakers, the call for her train echoed through the station. Yujin placed her hands on his shoulders, grounding him for a brief, fleeting goodbye.
“It was a pleasure helping with your project. It felt… pure, and so real.”
His eyes wandered everywhere but her. “I hope I see you again. No hard feelings?”
Confusion clung to him more tightly than before. He barely managed a nod before she lifted her bags—bags he hadn’t even noticed until that moment—and turned toward the gates. The whole thing felt wrong, as though he’d skipped a crucial episode in the middle of his favorite series.
For now, there wasn’t much he could do. Yujin’s departure wasn’t in his hands, nor was the approval of his project.
The only thing he could control was getting himself some lunch—and that’s where he headed once he finally broke free of midday traffic.
On the way, he slowed to a stop to let a line of children cross the street, hand in hand behind a woman—presumably their teacher.
The sight pulled at him with a strange sense of déjà vu. But before he could chase the thought, the blare of car horns snapped him back to reality, urging him forward.
On the way, he slowed to a stop to let a line of children cross the street, hand in hand behind a woman, presumably their teacher.
The sight pulled at him with a strange sense of déjà vu. But before he could chase the thought, the blare of car horns snapped him back to reality, urging him to move forward.
He had barely finished ordering his meal when his second coffee of the day was handed in front of him.
For Yoongi, caffeine was essential at times like this—when life seemed to slow down around him, the world pressing closer, people colliding into each other as if there were no space left to breathe.
At that table, it felt as if the whole world had been strapped to his wrist, dragging him down with its weight. His dream was already delayed but waiting even a few more hours for it felt impossible.
And then, like fate knocking at the door, like the false hope of a dream too good to last, Namjoon's contact photo lit up his phone screen.
He missed the call.
Within seconds, his phone bloated with notifications; text messages, voicemails, incoming calls. Yet all he could see was that single name flashing again and again. Her name.
And he missed that call too.
Still, it was enough to stir something deep in his memory: today, Y/N returned to his life far from home.
And he had forgotten.
The reminder had been written in his calendar. His mother had begged him not to let it slip his mind. But he had.
He’d completely forgotten the dinner their parents had organized, the same dinner they held every time Y/N came home on summer break, before she had to return to her job in the province.
Three years running.
He clung to the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, a miracle would happen—that when he returned to the label, his contract would be waiting for him, ready to be signed and sealed.
Then he’d have the rest of the evening free to meet her, to say goodbye to the love of his life for the third time.
Determined, he reached for his phone to call her. But Namjoon’s face appeared again, floating in a message bubble. This time, Yoongi couldn’t ignore it.
“Nam, what’s up?”
The line fell silent for a stretch of endless seconds.
“I need you here. Right now.”
The voice on the other end wasn’t the charming, easygoing Namjoon he knew. It was sharp, unsteady, carrying something dark in the tone. A chill spread through Yoongi’s chest, his heart thundering in pure terror.
Namjoon had never sounded so disturbed.
“In case you're wondering,” Namjoon exhaled a breath heavy with dread,
