city of hearts, ep. 1 ❤️🩹 taehyung
synopsis. having experienced a fateful romance by the beach, taehyung sets out on a quest through seoul's bustling streets to locate the woman who has stolen his heart.
pairing. taehyung x oc
genre. social media auㆍgamedesigner!tae ( angst. fluff. smut. )
word count. 5623
warnings. adulthood romance things cof cof implicit
a/n. i couldn't possibly start another au, but she said the word and so i did. happy birthday to my bestie, whom i'd love to see more often even though we talk every day ☆ thank you for being my person through and through ! this is my love letter to you, miss bubbles ♡
episodes. 01 ▸ 02 ▸ 03
▸ E1: True or False?
One day we got curious as to how men and women date in this city. To satisfy our curiosity, we discussed the beginning of a new project, that required us to follow the lives of several men and women in Seoul.
For it to be real, we won’t intervene in their lives. Only when we think it’s necessary, we will share their answers with others, or maybe edit them to make this entertaining—all the while keeping their original words.
It’s worth telling that fifty individuals around Seoul were chosen for this project. Still, they will all be participating with nicknames to protect their privacy—as we usually do when it comes to the internet. They all had to promise to treat their phones as their friends, as well as the app we developed where we will be posting questions, and telling only the truth.
But some answers and behaviors made us wonder if they indeed were telling us like it really is.
[ note that some of their answers will be through text, others, like this one, will be taken as voice notes. all voices undergo a modification due to privacy issues. ]
ılı.lıl taehyung: I’m the cool type… and uhm, gentle. Definitely not clingy. I’m cool.
ılı.lıl deo: I keep true to myself when I date… and when I break up too.
ılı.lıl kie: I’d say I fall in and out of love pretty fast. What can I say? I’m passionate. *chuckles* And if I have to break up, I just do it. I won’t dwell much.
ılı.lıl yoongi: What’s even the point of getting laid? *tsk* It’s a hassle…
ılı.lıl jin: I’m not one to play games. I don’t like that. I think overall I’m a pretty good guy.
ılı.lıl harin: Before my current boyfriend, well, I think I dated around uhm… Four men? No, three…? Wait. Let me retake this just once! *laughs*
So, whether the participants are telling the truth… well, we will let you be the judge of that.
⫰
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boreo 🤔
bluengrey For me, it’s women I can have fun with.
boreo men that I can talk to?
⤷ callmerinie huh? talking isn’t everything
tangerimin A physical connection, people.
supertuna Are you asking what I think you’re asking?
notmekeys why are you all acting so innocent? kkk
boreo oh-
tangerimin Why can’t you all say it? It’s just whatever. Just say it. You know, like bang!
⤷ boreo i got it now.
callmerinie 🤭
callmerinie and cut~!
boreo so if it’s about intimacy..
⤷ notmekeys i think i know just by the smell. you know, it’s all about pheromones
supertuna Doesn’t it depend on the man? At least I think so.
⤷ callmerinie wow! really? you’re giving yourself too much credit. 😒
bluengrey Uhm.. Usually I take the lead if it’s about that.
⤷ boreo uh-huh. do you really?
⤷ bluengrey Ok. Fine. There was this one time that I followed the girl’s lead.
⤷ bluengrey One time, okay?
⤷ boreo doubt it
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bluengrey Dating? I don’t think so
⤷ supertuna No. I think it is.
boreo dating really changed my point of view about that
tangerimin If you guys are putting it that way, I’ve dated many women. I loved it every time.
⤷ callmerinie aww… and what the girls had to say about this?
⤷ notmekeys about men? well, you know. they are all the same: trash.
⤷ boreo not all… i mean. there’s someone i know that wasn’t
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boreo yes. there is someone i can’t forget.
bluengrey I do.
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[ note that this request was sent privately to users bluengrey and boreo and we edited the sequence of their answers according to our own motives and the following questioning. ]
ılı.lıl deo: It happened one year ago…
ılı.lıl taehyung: She was the only one I could see. Like I was just gravitating in her orbit… Like we were in a world of our own. I felt complete.
ılı.lıl deo: I felt this spark every time I would catch him staring at me and then I simply couldn’t look away.
ılı.lıl taehyung: Back then I thought “Wah, this is what love feels like” *chuckles sadly*
ılı.lıl deo: I’ll always remember him.
ılı.lıl taehyung: If that is really the case… I don’t think someone ends a relationship if they feel that way.
ılı.lıl deo: It was my fault.
ılı.lıl taehyung: You know, it was my fault…
ılı.lıl taehyung: No… It’s true, she messed it up.
ılı.lıl deo: I won’t make excuses.
ılı.lıl taehyung: I mean… Of all the people… Why me? Why did it have to be me?
ılı.lıl deo: Simply put, we met at a time when I needed someone like him. Thanks to him, I became who I am now...
ılı.lıl taehyung: I wish I had never met her. *sighs* I was such a fool now that I think back.
ılı.lıl deo: *smiles* Being around him.. his love was kind of magical...
⫰
august 10th, 2022
Summer is at its peak and Taehyung has just arrived at Jeju airport. It has been a while since he last had some time to himself due to work, so to say he couldn’t wait for this much-deserving vacation is an understatement.
He organized everything at the company before he took off for this get-away, from the ongoing projects ideas he had recently pitched in, to the files the design team would need the next fifteen days he was away. And if you know Taehyung, you also know being organized was never his forte.
The game designer waits absentmindedly with his luggage by his foot, as he takes his beloved camera out of its case to finally point at the structure behind him. This airport isn’t the biggest one he had ever set foot on, he observes, but it is cozy enough and bustling with people everywhere to the point his fingers itch for the metal click of the equipment for a piece of nostalgia he held dear to his heart.
Just around the corner, Deo hit the brakes of the jeep as she waits for a group of tourists to cross to the other sidewalk while talking to her boss on the phone.
“It would’ve been much easier if you had just asked him for a selfie or something, Yumi–”
She hears her boss laugh through the speakers as she looks out of the window. The place is packed to the point she can barely see the pick-up line where the Ubers and Taxis usually park, and a wave of worriedness falls upon her. “Let’s go through with his description once again.”
“Ok, remember… He’s tall, and the last time he came he had blonde hair but that might not be the case anymore… Mmm, he has a nice shoulder line– Just trust me, his face will be hard to miss. He’s really handsome!”
The confession has Deo opening a smile. She met Yumi just a couple of weeks back when she arrived in Jeju herself, but the connection was instant.
For the first three days, she stayed at Yumi’s shack—the colorful hostel by the beach owned by Yumi herself and her long-time fiancé, Namjoon. But then going home became some distant reality she wasn’t ready to face, so kindly she was offered a position at the beach stay. And now, here she is, doing her first task out of the premises and the vigilante eyes of her playful bosses.
Although she loved the couple who hired her, even if it had been just a mere seventeen days, and she considered them as family, nothing made Deo as uncomfortable as not knowing what she was dealing with. Driving to the airport clueless as to whom she should be picking up wasn’t her cup of tea and the uneasiness she felt was visible as she sighed longly while turning off the call.
The stop sign goes green again, and with a bold strike of encouragement, she straightens her back, holds the steering wheel with conviction, and begins a cheerful pep talk to herself.
“You can do this.” She mumbles, hawkeyes scanning the people as her car slowly passes by. “How hard can it be… He’s tall and–”
The words quickly lose their sound in her mouth. Standing ten feet ahead, a man attracts glances from everyone passing by as he checks the visor in his camera absentmindedly.
Mentally, Deo starts crossing every characteristic being given by Yumi as she keeps looking at him through the safety of the Jeep’s tainted window. The only thing that doesn’t match is that this handsome man isn’t blonde but a brunette. His chocolate locks look ridiculously soft blowing in the light breeze.
Inhaling resolved, she parks right next to him, rolling her window down.
“Hi there! Would you perhaps be the Kim Taehyung from Seoul I’m looking for?”
Upon hearing his name, Taehyung looks up at her. The girl doesn’t wait for his answer, she jumps out of the vehicle that he can notice is much bigger than herself. “You must be here to pick me up… Right?”
Deo smiles at him confirming with a nod before opening the big trunk of the Jeep. Instead of introducing herself right away as expected, Taehyung watches as she reaches for his luggage, her knitted eyebrows denouncing how heavy it must be.
“I– I can do that–” He tries, but she swiftly evades his reach.
“It’s no problem! Really.”
He watches a bit flustered as she tries to dismiss her effort with a laid-back energy as if it was something she did all the time—to arrange heavy stuff in trunks and whatever not.
Picking both his duffel bags to help while she is still pushing his suitcase inside the trunk, he is able to take two steps before she takes notice and grabs them from his hands. “Leave that to me! You can wait inside, really. Go ahead!” Deo waves her hand and he starts to walk toward the passenger seat uncertain of how to behave, but decides to take her lead for the time being.
“Seatbealt!” She says as soon as she occupies the driver's seat and he is quick to follow the instruction.
“So… Where is Namjoon?”
Deo reaches for the rearview mirror, casually checking something in her eye before adjusting it back to its position. “Oh, he had to give today’s surf lessons and Yumi was kind of busy with tonight’s gathering so… But you’ll see him soon enough!”
“Ah, I see”
“He’ll be waiting for us by the beach, don’t worry.” And the bubbly smile she gives him before starting the car and driving them away is enough to shut down his inquiry and haze him in his thoughts.
ılı.lıl taehyung: What kind of women I’m compatible with? *smiles* Looking back… I’m drawn to the ones that are strange to me at first *chuckles* I think they’re a good pair for me.
Driving down the lush tapestry of Jeju island, Deo takes the wheel as the jeep’s interior is illuminated by the soft glow of the sun. Melodic notes intertwine with the afternoon’s warm atmosphere as music envelops them. Deo’s fingers tap the steering wheel, and her voice, a gentle hum, dances in harmony with the rhythm. Taehyung, sitting beside her, steals occasional glances, captivated by her carefree demeanor. The playful sway of her copper strands in the wind and the joy evident on her face, as the waves crash on the coast, make the moment feel like a private dance between them.
ılı.lıl taehyung: Have you ever met someone and felt like they were this huge… Question mark?
ılı.lıl taehyung: Like– “What is she like? She looks fun” *chuckles reminiscent* And you can’t stop having these questions and curiosities… You just want to know more and more.
As if sensing the perfect moment, a familiar melody begins to play through the car’s speakers. Deo’s eyes lit up with recognition, a grin forming on her lips. Officially Missing You by Tamia had been remade by Basstracks as a summer tune, and it had quickly become one of her favorites at the moment; a song that resonated with the essence of Jeju and its travelers.
With an impulsive burst of excitement, Deo cranks up the volume, allowing the music to envelop the jeep. The infectious beat cascades around them, harmonizing with the engine's rhythm roaring wildly in the wind. Her hands tap the steering wheel more enthusiastically than before, her foot keeping time with the pedals as the melody ignites her senses.
And then, as if the music had started a fire within her, she begins to sing. Her voice, rich and passionate, hits Taehyung’s ears in a wonderful and alluring way. Every note she sings seems to carry the energy of the sun-drenched afternoon, a celebration of life and the freedom of the open road.
Taehyung was initially taken aback by the sudden fervor. He watches in silent amazement as she transforms from a steady driver into a vivacious performer. Her eyes sparkle with delight, and her voice carries an unadulterated joy that is impossible to ignore.
For a moment, he is rendered speechless, caught in the captivating spell of her uninhibited enthusiasm even though he knows the lyrics by heart himself. But as the chorus approaches, Deo’s voice soars higher, and turning to him with an unmistakable twinkle in her eye, she opens the windows further, allowing the world outside to merge with the music.
“You know this song–?” As she asks and the chorus reaches its crescendo, she extends her arm toward him, pretending her hand is a microphone. The invitation hangs between them, and he hesitates for a moment. “C’mon! Sing with me–” Shyness lingered, but her spirited performance is too magnetic to resist.
Taking a deep breath, he leans closer to the imaginary tool and timidly joins in, his voice intertwining with hers. Taehyung sings softly, still caught in the spell of her contagious energy. His eyes remain fixed on her while she loses herself to the music.
At that moment, as Deo sings with all her heart, his own swells with a profound fondness for the stranger sitting by his side. He realizes that this is a glimpse into her unfiltered soul—one that seems to revel in the simple joys of life, that seems to embrace every moment with unbridled passion.
ılı.lıl taehyung: That’s how I fell for her… You see, I’m attracted to intense women.
⤷ tangerimin It is fun to follow their lead kekeke so… Same here.
ılı.lıl taehyung: There is a lot more to it– Like being bubbly… Oh, and she was also pretty feisty! Yeah, *smiles* that’s what she was like. She had just the right amount of feistiness.
When the music fades out and is replaced by the radio host’s voice instead, Deo turns down the volume still in a cheerful spirit. She takes a peak at the passenger seat only to notice Taehyung’s eyes are already on her. Visibly disconcerted, he gives her a small smile before looking over at his window instead, and she takes the opportunity to know more about him.
“You will like it there,” she starts bubbly and he returns his gaze to her side profile. It is endearing how close to the steering wheel her seat is to compensate for her small stature.
“I think so too… The last time I came it was such a healing experience– And well, I’ve been wanting to rent a trailer ever since I was younger.”
“Oh, you’ll love it then!” He watches how her eyes part from the road ahead and instead fall on his side of the car, momentarily pointing with her index finger still on the wheel to the beach extension that passes by them. “It must be lovely to drive along the coasts… Picking these beautiful spots to just– Chill. I have a list of them if you want!”
Taehyung leans his head on the window, a nostalgic wave hits his lips as the lines of it curve upward and he watches the sea crashing at the shore. It’s like a vivid picture of his childhood right in front of him.
“That would be great if I had the license to drive the camper around… Maybe next time?”
“You’re staying over a month and you won’t even change spots?! Now that we can’t do, hon.”
He looks back at her startled by the casualty she treats everything. And not in a bad way; she didn’t peg him as this overbearing nosy person who didn’t have boundaries, but as someone that seemed carefree and loose. A different version of himself that he had to let go of many moons ago to fit the immense gray box that was societal norms and ordinary conviviality.
Feeling a bit tempted to just enjoy the moment he decides then to let go of the filters. “That’s the only thing to do, hon, I don’t have the license.” He jokes, chuckling at her reaction when hearing the nickname. “What? You started it.”
“My bad! Yumi was so invested in this whole casual speech thing ever since I started my part-time job there that now I just can’t come out of it. Something about making the guests feel at home and all that…”
“Sounds like Yumi!”
“But back to you. I was thinking… If there was a way to get you a license, would you want it? To live the full experience of a camper, that is…?”
Taehyung frowns thinking as he looks to the calm waves again, but there isn’t much thinking to do. He would love the freedom of parking the vehicle throughout the whole extension of Jeju. “Sure…” He ponders. Being the type to imagine and discuss things, he was more than ready to give her all the reasons why that would be great for his next stay. “To park it whe–”
“Great! So let’s do it!”
It is the last thing he hears before she makes an abrupt U-turn in the middle of the calm road, and he has to flatten one hand on the window and the other on the panel of the Jeep to hold for his life.
His heart only stops beating at an alarming speed once she hits the brakes and he is able to open the door to exit the vehicle. Still confused as to what is happening, the picture gets clear as she opens her arms excitedly in front of what he realizes to be a driving school.
“Ta-da! Your problems will be solved in exactly two days!” Deo exclaims, and Taehyung is pretty certain that his face is contorting in the most clueless way. He notices how a sudden strike of worriedness flashes on her toffee irises, however. “If you manage to pass the test of course…”
ılı.lıl taehyung: I should have known she was crazy by then… But in all honesty… That’s what made her fun in the first place.
ılı.lıl taehyung: And that makes me crazy too *laughs* You know, it’s those kinds of things you only realize later… Much later. Like realizing you’ve been conned only after being conned by someone *sighs*
⤷ supertuna Wow … I have just now realized how some people can be so blind
ılı.lıl taehyung: And now whenever I see a camper trailer… I think of her.
They only get out of the driving school when he goes through with all the paperwork necessary to go and take the test the next day as Deo had insisted. She not only pushed him into a 3x4 photo machine situated on the long corridor of the building, but also cut the picture she thought to be the best, and helped him fill the application.
Taehyung keeps replaying the whole shenanigan in his head as he takes his surfboard out of the roof of the jeep parked by his temporary home—a camper trailer by the beach. Last year, Namjoon had called him excitedly sharing the news that his girlfriend and he had bought a cozy place in Jeju and had renovated it to be a chill hostel for surfers and passersby. Of course, Taehyung stopped by to visit as soon as he was able to take some days off, but at the time, since all trailers were already rented, he stayed on the main structure.
Not that it was bad, far from it. He enjoyed every second; from the late-night gatherings to the lounge festivities, and the amazing lunchtime Yumi was keen on making into a later-on karaoke session or game quest. There was no dull time within the colorful facilities, and it was always kept so casual that it made Taehyung feel very much at home.
But he had the trailer experience written down on his bucket list ever since he could remember. And so this time around, he was sure to seize the opportunity and make that old promise come true.
His thoughts wander away as he finishes sticking his board in the warm sand. Playing by the emerald shore, Deo runs laughing as she is chased by two dogs. His right hand comes to his eye line to shield it from the sun as he is incapable of moving on with his life, seeing her throw a stick only to have the bigger dog chasing it and the little one look at her unamused. It’s like he could be here all day to witness this particular scene, unconscious and unbothered by what surrounds them.
And that is indeed what happens.
“Hey, you, Mr. cloud9–” Namjoon calls for his attention for the second time. “You didn’t listen to a thing I said, did you?”
“Hm?”
“I was telling you to close the canvas of it at night because of the wind– Are you even hearing a thing?” But as he follows his friend's line of sight he knows he isn’t. Letting go of his own obligations for the time being, he stands beside Taehyung, crossing his arms and admiring his dogs running as the waves serve as background music to his ears. It’s peaceful. It’s his piece of peace on earth.
“She shines, doesn’t she?”
Namjoon peaks at his friend before looking ahead once more, with a fond smile finding his features. “She does… She has been our recent source of joy. Yumi and I laugh so much because of her lately.”
“Yeah, she seems fun,” Taehyung muses with a chuckle of his own still enamored by the scene displayed in front of him. Deo falls to the soft sand in laughter and both dogs come flying toward her.
“Poor girl… She was dumped here by some surfer. Could you believe that?”
There is a sorrowful pause and Taehyung is suddenly snapped out of his trance, indignity brimming in his eyes as his friend shakes his head clearly saddened by the situation.
Returning his view to the girl ahead, he adds, “What kind of jerk would do that? She seems so bubbly and… Caring–”
“You want to take her to Seoul?” Namjoon interrupts and he almost gasps.
“Take her?!”
“Yeah, take her. I mean, I think she would be happy with you there…”
“You think she would like to come with me?” Taehyung’s fingers tingle with the possibility, even if he himself doubts it a little.
“Sure! We just have to give her one last shot and she’s good to go! The vet–”
“Wait. What? What are you talking about?”
Namjoon stares at him suddenly confused, and then back at the beach again. As Deo hops by, calling for both Monnie and Tan, his eyebrows soften in understanding.
“Oh… It’s not Monnie, is it?” He muses playfully. “You’re talking about Yewon… I see,”
“Yewon…” Taehyung mumbles her name to himself. “So her name is Yewon, huh…”
But the impish nudges he receives on his side snap him out of his thoughts and let him know that Namjoon won’t be letting go of this confession so soon.
In the cozy beachside hostel, the evening breeze whispers through open windows, carrying with it the laughter of tenants. With a lighthearted step, Deo finds herself in the pantry where Namjoon is absorbed in a way to easy recipe for lounge snacks. Fishing his phone out of her jeans, a small smile plays on her lips as she extends the device toward him.
“Here you go, boss,” she remarks, her voice playful as she not only returns his phone but also substitutes the sugar jar in his hand with the salt and pepper.
Namjoon glances up, chuckling at his clumsiness. “We were almost in trouble there. You’re a lifesaver.”
As he takes the phone from the table filled with condiments, he can’t help but tease, “You should probably get one of your own, don’t you think?”
“Eh. It’s just a hassle really… I only use it to talk to our guests.”
Leaving him to his impromptu cooking, she strolls out to the porch, where the new visitors are gathering. The atmosphere is lively, with conversations and newfound curiosity filling the air. Deo effortlessly mingles, chatting with familiar faces and welcoming newcomers that pass by the beach.
Among the crowd, she notices Taehyung engrossed in a ping pong game, as she takes some beers to a group playing Jenga. His infectious laughter captivates everyone around him and she can’t help but smile at the view. Her gaze lingers, catching his eye for a fleeting second.
She points with her head to the group around him, wearing a playful smile on her lips, and lifting her thumb up to measure how he is doing tonight she waits for his response. Immediately he raises his own finger positively, his smile opening wider at her caring gesture to check on him.
Suddenly, the lights flicker and go out, causing momentary confusion and their brief interaction to cease. Murmurs and laughter rise as the guests fumble in the dark. Deo is the only one chuckling expectant as she knows what is to come.
Then, not ten seconds later, Yumi’s voice pierce the darkness through a megaphone. “Ladies and gents, it’s game time!”
The announcement is met with cheers and applause, and the porch transforms into a playground of excitement. Deo herself feels the rush of anticipation buzz down to the tip of her fingers as the group prepares for a surprise game under the stars, even though she replays the script made by her and Yumi earlier on in her mind.
The last time Taehyung stayed here, he arrived so tired from a late-night flight that he wasn’t able to participate in the welcoming game he knew Yumi organized every month, and he regretted it for the whole week he rented a room. This night was all every guest he met by the beach was able to talk about, and now he was ready to find why.
As some fairy lights and a big screen illuminate the space, Deo watches the handsome newcomer’s silhouette amid the glow. His grin was unmistakable as he raised a red cup, ready to dive open-heartedly into whatever it was that the hosts had prepared.
Supposedly, every time Yumi and Namjoon did this for the new guests to ambient themselves and feel more comfortable around everyone else, they prepared a scavenge hunt inside and outside of the hostel's bounds. But this week everything had gone to space and changes had to be made at the last minute.
Between losing a long-time employee and having to train Deo on the spot, as well as managing the surf lessons and running the business, the couple had little to no time to arrange the things needed for the anticipated scavenge hunt. So this month, Deo pitched in with a rather easy game to orchestrate and that would still promote the mingling of the visitors—Simon Says.
“And… Start!” Yumi exclaimed as she pressed the button to start the presentation on the projection screen.
Big crimson red letters appear giving instructions and the crowd thrillingly follows. “Simon says: make a group with four girls and three guys” it reads at first and everyone fumbles their way to find open spots. Deo herself is forced to join as two guests she had come to know, pull her to their side. The thrill of the game intertwined with the salt-kissed wind made her feel some sense of belonging that she had never really expected.
“Three guys, three girls!”
In the throes of the chaos of the match, it was inevitable however how Taehyung’s gaze followed the sound of Deo’s laughter. Even if their eyes meet in brief moments, and even if it was in the middle of an ongoing competition, a silent connection seemed to pull them to each other like gravity.
As the game reaches its apex, the tension in the air is palpable. The players’ laughter overlaps with the sound of Yumi’s megaphone, creating a symphony of fun. They aren’t completely strangers now. There is a spontaneous connection formed between them all, just like the hosts had intended it to.
“One guy, one girl! Quick!”, Yumi reads the screen through the megaphone overexcited, and the remaining participants eye each other in confusion while the rest of the crowd laughs entertained. “Oh–”
Taehyung steals a glance at his two partners, both male, and they all chuckle amused, not really knowing how to proceed.
“I think I messed up when writing this– Wait.” Yumi confesses to the crowd sheepishly, starting to move toward the laptop to try and fix the mistake.
But then Taehyung feels like someone is watching him through his peripheral, and when he turns his head, it’s her. Deo stands two feet away from him, close to Yumi, watching joyfully, and he suddenly knows what to do. Or better, his heart does.
With two quick steps, he reaches for her hand, pulling her gently to his side and attracting everyone else’s attention to their figures, Yumi’s included. In the midst of the applause and collective cheer, Deo’s mute inquiry reaches his eyes.
The porch begins to transform into a realm of unity and exhilaration, being lit by the moonlight and the shared spirit of the guests, but not that any of the two notice, as the girl is too enchanted by her last-minute partner’s orbs. Taehyung's big brown eyes pierce hers with certainty and a flash of curiosity that is almost childlike.
A shared smile floats between them as her sight falls to his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the joy of the evening and perhaps the butterflies that flutter rapidly in their stomachs.
The lights had gone out, but the bonds forming under the starry August sky seemed to shine even brighter.
ılı.lıl taehyung: When you look into a girl’s eyes you can tell if she’s compatible with you or not. I can see who she is through it… And in that moment I felt it. I knew that she and I would be compatible.
“We have our winner for tonight!” Yumi exclaims through the megaphone as they keep staring into each other’s eyes, “Congrats!”
Amidst the fading echoes of the beachside game’s conclusion, jubilant cheers resound from the open porch of the hostel. The sun had retreated long before the gathering had started, ceding its reign to a canvas of twilight hues, but now fireworks burst into existence, painting the sky with a kaleidoscope of colors.
The couple, different from the majority of the crowd who excitedly run towards the shores, stands hand in hand still. A silent connection stronger than the clamor. With each explosion, Taehyung’s gaze shifts from the spectacle to Deo, seeing in her eyes a breezeful wonder that makes him rendered. Yet, it’s not just the pyrotechnics that leave him breathless. As he watches her, a quiet realization dawns—his heart races to a rhythm he hadn’t known before. It’s more than just curiosity. At that moment, amid the splendor of the fireworks and the tranquil beauty of the night, Taehyung recognizes the gentle tug of love.
ılı.lıl taehyung: I liked everything about her… The way she looked at things and the way she smelled. How she had two funky single braids done in her loose strands and the clothes she threw together without much effort making an all-together beachy look.
ılı.lıl taehyung: Everything about her seemed perfect to me. I just… I really liked her.
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supertuna Maybe it’s because I’ve been dating for so long… But I find dating stories uhm… Kind of funny now keke
callmerinie “And it was at that moment that the fireworks went off…” 🤭🤭
tangerimin You bet they heard bells, too. I heard it was explosions of fireworks 😏
⤷ notmekeys i’m too drnk to answee this
supertuna I think everyone feels like their own love life is special like in a movie or something
notmekeys it’s a beautiful story tho
⤷ notmekeys there waas a guy who found a butiful woman on a trip and and the night they met fireworkss went off peww pew!
⤷ notmekeys their eyes met bang !! theirr hearts too
bluengrey But those things can happen all at once… At least I think so.
boreo well… if the woman is insanely pretty that’s possible. don’t you think?
⤷ tangerimin That’s exactly when you have to realize it’s just too good to be true, don’t you think?
supertuna Let’s say you wake up from that dream, then what happens if you don’t get together?
⤷ callmerinie then you die alone
⤷ notmekeys no. no no. i’m not alone.
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bluengrey Hmm
bluengrey I would still fall for her..
boreo if i met him again… i’d fall in love again
bluengrey Yes, I think I would.
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❤️🩹— singguks | all rights reserved. do not repost, translate or claim as your own.
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busted (3tan) (m) | myg
title: busted
pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) , jungkook x reader(f)
series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call
rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au
summary: when things go a bit south at your house party, decisions between you and yoongi have to be made.
note: well. here we are, y’all. it’s been quite a long time, but we are back to regularly scheduled programming :’)) thank you to everyone that has supported and encouraged me throughout this whole process – and series, for that matter. i couldn’t have done this without y’all and the next part is already in the works. also i cried a lot writing this lol have fun!
note 2: happy birthday, hedgehog! and to colourless and nicki and whoever else had birthdays recently, consider this my gift to y’all!
warnings: language, the amount of content itself fck i’m so sorry, parties, alcohol consumption, tense situations, shoving, abandonment mentions (parental), obligatory yoongi on the phone, ch*king, head/hair pulling, reader has a pain kink and it shows oops, angst, overthinking :((, penetrative s*x, chains but come on now, protective s*x, cowgirl, or*l (m/f rec), edg*ng a ha ha, thro*tf*cking, kissing :’))), kissing D:, did i say angst?, bro😵💫, but also bro😭, jungkook gets a warning too, yoongi’s jeans are as ripped as he is heyo, hitting from the b b back, yoongi king of consent sheesh, multiple org*sms, spitting lmfao, sl*t/wh*re mentions, yoongi jfc lol, the aftercare y’all i–😭, the ending🧍
drop date: june 9th, 2023, 7:17pm est
word count: 18.8k gdi
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Here goes nothing and everything.
It was fifteen years ago when you first met Jungkook. When the sidewalks in your neighborhood were fewer and the occupancy in your house was higher.
A tiny boy, he was immediately ready to stay by your side, despite the limited amount of time he got to hang around before his parents corralled his energy back inside their car.
Later on, he would tell you that had something to do with them not wanting him influenced by your brother and his group. But you didn’t know that at the time.
Ever since the two of you met, you became the best of friends. And as you grew older, it was only natural that feelings bloomed with everything else.
In the midst of an ever changing garden, you found something that never wavered, vibrant in color and immovable at its root.
Which was strange. You’d never compared people to flora before him.
But, because of Jungkook, you couldn’t help but see everyone as such—lilies, buttercups, the ones that trap to survive.
And he was the prettiest, strongest flower of them all.
There was rain. There were storms. But with them came hope, and a pair of cheap rings that the two of you bought nestled nicely in boxes, waiting to be unearthed when you were ready.
However.
What also came was a lesson. One that you would learn again when two of every seat remained unused in your household.
A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.
They change with or without you.
And they pass by.
“We can go somewhere quieter if you want,” Jungkook offers. And you know he’s going to suggest your room before he even utters the words.
But of course he adds a small, “If I’m allowed in there anymore.”
When he laughs, your smile is as slow as your head shake, a few memories of old tasting bittersweet on your tongue. “We can.”
“Okay.”
When you make your way to your room, you hear the thumps of music and rhythms of conversation—both casual and loud—echoing throughout the house. Some people are sharing laughs, others are scooting just a bit closer, and a lucky one is cackling before demanding that everyone hand over their money.
All of them oblivious to the fact that you’re about to rip off a piece of your heart.
Well. That may not be the case. But based on the conversation that you had with Jungkook before your interview, this wasn’t going to be an easy one in the slightest—not for him, nor for you.
But if he’s gonna keep pushing forward, this is a stop you need to put up regardless.
During a party isn’t what you had in mind, though. Much less one in your own house.
You don’t know if anyone sees you open your door for Jungkook to pass through, or if they notice the slump of your mood, but you figure no one will care anyways.
Until you see someone out of the corner of your peripheral.
And the skip of your heart tells you who it is.
Occupying one of the hallways a ways away, you can tell he’s very aware of you despite being in the middle of a chatty group.
But what’s on his mind? Is he worried? Is he gonna ask what this is about?
Damn it. You’re just gonna have to tell him later. You can’t exactly do anything now.
A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,
“You okay?”
Fuck.
Turning, you nod to the boy in your room before shutting your door, giving one more look to the man whose last text you couldn’t read.
And the way he stares makes you wanna bolt from everyone entirely.
When your door clicks shut, you slowly swivel, only the bass of your brother’s music pushing the walls in closer.
Jungkook’s doing exactly what you knew he’d do, wandering around your room and either leaning in to observe, or lightly touching things that he remembers.
The soft puff of a laugh snaps you into focus. “I can’t believe you still have all his medals up.”
Ah. He even remembers the way you have all your brother’s trophies and achievements displayed—all because you liked seeing them shine, and he didn’t want them in his room.
Sweeping your gaze along two of your walls, you let out a tiny sound of amusement while agreeing, “I can. Too lazy to take them down.”
“I can do it,” he immediately responds. “If you need me to.”
If it had been five years ago, you would’ve been enamored that he even offered.
But five years ago is when he shattered any hopes you had for the two of you, so you turn him down yet again. “It’s okay.”
“You sure?”
“We’re here to talk, not decorate, Jungkook.”
He stares before nodding in dejection, eyes finding something other than you. “It’s still weird to hear you say my name.”
It’s weird to say it.
But you can’t let him know you agree, so the sound you make is half-cautious and weakly lighthearted. “You think so?”
“Ah, yeah.” He flashes a smile that still squeezes air from your lungs. “I’d gotten too used to all the names you had for me.”
“Oh, god.”
“But I guess someone else gets to hear them now.”
Goddamn it. He’s not gonna give up, just like he said right before your interview.
“Who are you seeing?”
“Kook…”
“I wanna know.”
“Why?”
He walks over to your nightstand, picking up a picture of you and your friends from years back.
And your heart pangs at how big his back has become.
Without turning, Jungkook lifts his head to stare at your ceiling. And if he’s wondering whether the glow stars he stuck all over it are still there or not, you don’t know if you’d admit that you never took them down.
“So that I’d know if I still have a chance.”
“You already had yours,” you whisper. “Remember?”
And when you look up, he’s already staring at you with regret.
Memories start to come back, but you shove them away with force, trying to empty your sinking boat with a teaspoon.
Every time he had walked back from school with you, every time he would make you laugh when you felt alone, every time he stayed at your place when your brother had to be out—all of them competed with each other to punch you in the gut and push you to your knees.
“I do,” is all he says before softly placing the frame on your bed. “I fucked that up, didn’t I.”
The times he said he’d be there when you needed him, the times he said it was gonna be okay when you struggled with your seemingly deepest darkest secrets.
All the times you knew you’d have a long future with him.
“You did.”
Everything leading up to the time he said you should break up before you left for university.
Right before you were going to tell him you loved him.
Your heart hasn’t beat in awhile, but you don’t notice until Jungkook starts walking towards your planted feet. Was he really so far away? How did he cover the distance between so fast?
With a sigh occupying your chest, you muse that he looks so different, but also not different at all.
And just like the time you saw him downtown, your brain doesn’t know how to separate the Jungkook you knew from the one you see in front of you.
Because they are still the same.
You don’t budge as he stands resolute, inches away but encasing you in his familiar presence. When his hand comes up to your face, he almost touches—but the slight hesitation has you holding your breath before he surrenders his hand at his side.
“I was an idiot,” he admits, throat seemingly small and making yours the same size. “I never should’ve… I can’t believe I…”
You watch as he flips his head up, and you hate how you know exactly what he’s trying to hide.
But your soul still remembers the wound it was dealt. So while you don’t want him feeling this way, you’re perfectly okay to fight back.
He doesn’t get to cry when he’s the reason for all those tears.
“And yet you did,” you remind him, proud of how stable your voice leaves lips that used to seek his. “And you left me so fucking confused.”
“I know.”
“Do you really?”
He flickers regretful eyes your way, giving you all the room to talk.
And you’re going to.
“Do you actually know, Kook? How fucked up that made me feel right before going where I knew nobody. No one.”
His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch.
You expel a tough breath, everything that happened before bubbling up to the surface. The nights you spent wondering what happened, the days you spent feeling unwanted, the times you felt so fucking alone.
“Is it true that you even loved me?”
“Yes,” he finally shatters, face contorting and eyes welling at their rims. “Of course I did.”
Did.
“I still do.”
Liar.
“I thought I was the only one.” You search his eyes, hating how you would comfort him in an instant if this were any other circumstance. Hating, hating, loathing that this is how you find out your love wasn’t unrequited. “Why did you push me away?”
“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…” He turns, unable to handle the loud silence streaming from your bones. Voice shaken, he flounders, “I don’t know. I’ve—”
When he pauses, it’s to keep his lips from shaking. You just know it.
“I’ve regretted it every day since.”
“Bullshit.”
“I have!”
“Really. So all those texts you never sent were full of regret, too, huh?”
“No, I—”
“All those calls you never made.”
“I wanted to call!”
“You wanted nothing to do with me!”
“No! That’s not true—”
“Liar!”
He digs palms into the soaking divots of his face, tense at all angles and making you so, so angry that this is what the both of you have come to.
“I’m not lying!”
“You are!”
You thought it would feel better seeing him cry.
But it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. You hate this.
Because Jungkook made sure your tears were short-lived. Made sure to chase them away every single time—
There’s a rapid twist of your locked doorknob before you hear a shout,
“What the hell’s going on in there!”
Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling?
…Were you both that loud?
“We’re fine!” you shout back, embarrassed that your fight somehow managed to outperform the aux. “It’s okay.”
“Open the door.”
“No.”
“You better be serious—”
“Promise!” You look toward the shouts. “We’re okay.”
“…Okay.”
And then it’s completely silent.
But you know he hasn’t left.
Fuck, he can’t hear the rest of this. He shouldn’t have heard any of it in the first place, and you can feel the heat of his questions coming later tonight.
Which, you are fine answering when it’s just the two of you. But you cannot have anyone hovering right now so you go to open the door and tell him off,
“Dude, I said I’m—”
Oh, fuck.
Yoongi’s right there with him.
And your heart fucking lurches.
Fuck fuck fuck they both see your tears and you’re getting moved aside before you know it now there’s—
“The fuck are you doing making them cry?”
“Wait, it’s not like th—”
“You come into our house after years—”
“Stop!”
“And pull some shit like this?”
Alarmed, you squeeze yourself between him and a very wide-eyed Jungkook, having to wrestle an angry wrist off a captured bicep. “Seriously, relax!”
You and your brother have a thousand differences.
But one thing you two have in common?
He’s just as stubborn as you are.
A strong swipe moves you back so fast that your feet can’t keep up, and you find yourself stumbling until firm hands and familiar cologne keep you upright, voices springing up all at once.
“I’m not—”
“Hey—!”
“The fuck—”
“What’s wrong with you?” you question, commanding attention and snagging both your brother’s and Jungkook’s stares.
Barely even caring if they see where you are and who’s holding you.
Because this is all stupid. It’s not fucking high school and you aren’t some kid that needs their useless, shitty, good-for-nothing parents to stand up for them.
Resisting Yoongi’s grip until he lets go, you stalk up to rip your brother’s hand off your ex’s arm, voice darkened and sharp, “Get out.”
Breath hard, the reply you get is directed more at Jungkook than your own pinched brows,
“Why should I.”
“Cus it’s fine,” you shoot out, sparing a glance at Yoongi and regretting it immediately.
Because he’s not looking at you. He probably wasn’t ever looking at you.
No. Based on that look alone, he’s been eyeing Jungkook with an energy that sends chills straight through your veins.
It’s so unmoving, so infernal that your throat dries, forcing you to swallow before laying more reassurance on three pairs of tense shoulders. “It’s alright, okay? We’re just talking.”
“…So it’s like that?”
Jungkook immediately replies to your sibling with a monotone, “Of course it is.”
To which he moves forward again before you stop him with a hand and a shout,
“The fuck it isn’t—”
“It is! Fucking hell, dude...”
You force an exhale, hating how your room is overflowing while you’re still drowning in the conversation prior.
Because now one talk is gonna sprout into three, and you already dread what each one is going to look like when it develops.
You hope Jungkook understands that you’re done.
You hope your brother understands that you’re tired.
And, above all the others, you hope to any high power out there that Yoongi understands that you are anything but finished.
When the tension doesn’t budge, you sigh and shift your weight.
“Look. We’re just talking. But I need to speak to him alone.” You breathe with finality, eyeing your sibling and his ride or die—hating and loving how ready they are to do whatever they need to, together.
But they don’t have to do anything.
Except let you do this yourself.
“Please.”
After a moment, they both look over your shoulder before your brother watches your face again.
But Yoongi seems to have finally caught Jungkook’s attention, because his eyes haven’t broken their lock until you say something,
“Trust me.”
Two weighty seconds pass before both men nod. And they leave without a word, emotions toppling on each other as soon as your door shuts.
When you walk up to lock it shut, you stare at the knob in silence.
While that was massively uncalled for, it could’ve gone much worse. You can already think of over a hundred outcomes, because that’s a look you’ve seen on your brother many times.
However. That’s not what has you lost in thought.
What keeps you frozen is the fact that you have never seen Yoongi like that.
It almost scared you, but somehow comforts you all the same. You can still feel the way he subtly squeezed you in assurance, pressing you into him when you really didn’t fall that far. There’s a jittering in your chest that hasn’t simmered, and it makes you feel like you’re halfway floating back to where Jungkook stands.
But you’re promptly grounded when you rejoin him, voice soft when you ask if he’s okay.
“He hasn’t changed,” is all he whispers.
And you look at the door with a sigh of disappointment. “He has a little. Still uptight as ever, but. At least I can leave the house.”
“Yoongi was a surprise.”
Oxygen abandons your lungs before you quickly catch yourself. “They’re best friends.”
Jungkook glares at the floor in thought before exhaling, and his silence seems charged. Almost off.
“Right.”
…Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?
Is it because he saw when Yoongi caught you? Or the fact that he showed up at all?
“Hey,” you whisper, hoping to rope him away from whatever scary things he could be pondering. When he flicks his attention to you, it takes a lot to not flinch at his watery eyes. “Ignore them. We aren’t finished here.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and your conversation jumps right back to where it was. “For everything.”
“I know.” You close your eyes before sadness lowers your gaze. “But it’s gonna hurt for awhile.”
Even if you get this closure, it can’t cover all the years he made you doubt yourself. Made you feel like everything you went through was a lie and that love was something you just didn’t deserve. Confidence vaporized as a result, leaving nothing but issues and manufactured intimacy for years.
Maybe that’s why everyone said you were a bad lay before. Because you actually were.
Through your thick haze, you hear a faint, broken,
“You loved me?”
“I…” Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. “I still do.”
“What?”
Fuck.
It’s true. While he broke your heart first, he still cared for it more than anyone else after him had—until recently. The only grief he gave you was the breakup, which was why it threw you for an absolute loop.
As you grew up, though, you started to rationalize that the split was a good decision. He was moving, and you were leaving for college. How would you both have fared with the long distance? It probably would have ended one way or the other anyways.
So while the resentment burned your heart, it didn’t quite rid you of affection. What you feel as a result is similar to before, but so very, very different. Subdued. Faded. Like jeans you wore constantly but haven’t touched in years.
In all honesty, what broke you the hardest was losing a dear friend.
“I do,” you finally admit, not looking at him because of your next words, “But not the way you want me to.”
Jungkook doesn’t respond, letting the outside world bleed into the room like a bitter interlude.
When he still makes no sound, you lift weary eyes to check on him.
And your chest constricts at the way he looks utterly and totally lost.
When you call his name, his gaze doesn’t leave the floor. When you whisper it again, the tear that falls makes you weak. “Kook, what’s wrong?”
He finally looks up, and you feel your eyes quickly reflect his. “I was so stupid,” he sniffles, wiping his nose. “I really didn’t know. Honestly, I knew that was impossible.”
For some reason, this makes you chuckle, and a new mood starts to paint the walls. “Why?”
“Because you were so cool.” His smile hasn’t changed. And that’s what cuts the deepest. “And I was just there because I always was.”
“What?” You start to join him in bittersweet recollection, albeit from a different perspective. When you reach forward to point at his necklace—because you will not touch the ring—you softly laugh. “Then what were these for, silly?”
When he sighs, you can feel the cracks in his curve. “I’ve been told that I’m clueless.”
“You are,” you say with a sagging grin. “Extremely.”
He laughs again. So do you.
And the both of you break all at once.
He’s crushing you in a hug and you’re crying into his clothes, hands gripping at his jacket and shoulder feeling the weight of his world.
While he repeats that he’s sorry, you choke out that you are, too. When he says it was never your fault, you cry even harder.
You fucking hate this. Now that you know the truth, it hurts that much worse. You hate, hate, hate that this is what everything came to. Everything that you both went through, destroyed by one mistake at the bitter end.
But you need to move on. You need to sacrifice the past for the future.
“I still love you,” he whispers, and you tense when he tightens his arms. “And I’m still sorry.”
“You idiot,” you cry into his chest, and you hear him hold back a sob before burying his head again.
And the two of you stay like that. One last embrace that you both needed.
Reminiscing over everything that doesn’t matter anymore.
When you both calm, you feel like it’s been hours.
But you move to step away first, confused at the way he doesn’t let you leave.
What’s he doing? Why is his mouth hovering over yours? You need to move. You need to move away.
But all you can do is plead, “I can’t.”
Still, Jungkook moves in.
Leaning to kiss just next to your lips instead.
What once would have lit your soul on fire now feels like a tempered flame, the smallest light of a candle before it burns out. And you’re grateful that he respects you enough to not push in a time of weakness.
You move away again, and he lets you go this time. But not without last words, “Promise me this person is alright.”
“I promise.”
“Only alright? I have a chance then.”
“Kook.” When you give him an empty glare, dying stars still linger in his eyes. “Friends?”
His lips give away his breaking heart before he nods. “I’m not leaving you again.”
Swallowing, you spread a thankful smile. “You better not,” you sniffle. “I need to decorate.”
He huffs, giving you one more teary stare. “If they ever hurt you, let me know.”
“I’ll be okay.”
After a noncommittal nod, he stands until you politely tell him you need a minute. When he leaves, you wait until the door shuts before wiping nothing from your cheek.
Wondering why this closure doesn’t make you feel better in the slightest.
You don’t know how long it’s been. Time doesn’t exactly flow when you’re caught between the past and the present.
But when you open your door, Dom is watching you with pure, unadulterated focus.
And your face scrunches in pain before she ushers you back inside.
She doesn’t say anything as you sit on your bed, offering her shoulder even though she doesn’t prefer physical contact.
While you’re grateful—so, so thankful for her presence—intermittent sniffles are the only sound you’re capable of.
Until you stabilize and come up for air, fishing words from your river of grief, “Remember what I told you. When he broke up with me.”
Anger simmers in her reply as her shoulder moves under your chin. You assume by the movements that she’s typing something on her phone—or prepping for revenge, either one of the two. “I do.”
“He said he still loves me.”
Your first thought is proven correct as a device plops onto your comforter. “Bullshit.”
“Dom…”
“What? Like he loved you then, too?” She scoffs. “You were the one that loved him and he cut you out. He needs to get over that.”
“He said it was a mistake.”
“It sure as fuck was.”
“I dunno. Something just doesn’t sit right.” You swipe at your nose. “He looked so.. I just…”
“Uh uh. It’s too fresh.” She gently lifts your heavy cloud off her person, firm fingers squeezing out rain. “You gotta get out of your own damn head right now.”
“I know.”
“Now.”
You break into another sob, hiccuping before nodding. “It just sucks, Dom. I d—”
“Look, I get that. But everything you’re thinking about already happened. It’s done.” A glance is thrown behind her back before she swivels around. “Focus on what you have now.”
In your moments of weakness, you ask the dumbest things,
“What do I have now.”
As always, Dominique is quick and to the point. “A man that’s waiting outside your door.”
Huh?
Your eyes flash up to hers as she stands. “Wait, what?”
What did she say? What does she mean? How does she know that what’s going on—
“One minute,” she warns, far away and not to you. “Then you’re on your own.”
“K.”
Wait, what.
You don’t even realize you’re vacating your bed as you see him walk in, nodding back at Dom closing the door before regarding your wreck of a face.
His name is molasses on your tongue.
What is he doing? Isn’t the party still on? Why is he walking closer?
He’s not supposed to be in here he can’t be here and you’re telling him that but he pulls you in so tight that the rest of your tears rain down in sheets.
“Fuck,” is all you can manage now, and he crushes you in even harder, as if he wants you pressed against all of him forever like a keepsake leaf on a journal page.
Your voice writes words into his clothes, silence his only reply but the only one you need.
Even if you only get a minute, this is enough. It’s enough, not enough, enough.
When he holds you at arm’s length, his question comes out a bit fast-paced, “What happened?”
Damn it. As much as you should probably tell him, you use precious seconds to pause, not really knowing if you want to or not.
“Don’t sweat it,” he quickly understands, kissing your forehead just as chaste. When he moves again, you catch the tension in his shoulders, notice the ruffles in his hair. “You gonna be okay?”
“Yes. No.” Fuck, he kinda looks as rattled as you feel. What is happening right now? “I just, umm. I need a minute.”
“You don’t have to go back out there, you know.”
“But you do,” you counter. “And I just wanna see you.”
Finally, Yoongi stops, and his whole upper body relaxes at once. A beautiful sound to your ears, amusement huffs out his nose before he mutters, “You can’t keep saying shit like that.”
“But it’s true.”
His chuckle is light, and mischievous eyes find the ground before they lift to yours,
“Makes me wanna take you home.”
Well. You swiftly realize why he doesn’t want you to keep saying certain things. The zing of emotion through your body was definitely uncalled for.
Any other day, you would want this type of conversation to keep going. And maybe you’d be a little coy about it.
But right now, all you are is tired, and your barriers are crumbled enough for a truth to escape.
Resigned, you step closer to wrap his waist in your arms, not caring if he can feel the rapid beats of your heart. “I want you to do that,” you admit, breath warming your face on his already warmer shirt. “All the time.”
“Take you home?”
“Mmhmm.”
Yoongi runs fingers along your arm. “You know I’d do it if I could, doll.”
If you were someone else. If you didn’t have to hide.
If you didn’t have to wait.
At least you don’t have to wait for much longer. Definitely can’t say anything to your brother tonight, but you and Yoongi agreed on after this party. So things will be better from here on out.
But why does he seem so—
You’re spooked by a warning knock on your door, and you flicker eyes to see his filled with something you don’t like.
And the air suddenly shifts to something alarming.
“Listen.”
“Hmm?”
“I know we said we’d say something.”
Oh. You shake your head, already on the same page and liking how in sync you are. “There’s no way. At least, not tonight. Jungkook—”
“It may need to be a bit longer than that.”
Huh.
What does he mean by—
“So you probably won’t see me for awhile.”
You freeze.
So does time.
A minute is no longer enough.
“Yoongi, please—”
“Can you do that?”
Your heart slams against your ribcage, banging and banging and screaming that what he’s asking is not possible.
Because he isn’t asking what you want to do. He isn’t even asking how long you can wait.
There’s a reason why he’s risking all sorts of shit to say this in person. Why he seems so restless.
And you’re already missing him so hard it hurts.
Truthfully? You can’t do this. Not now. Not when your heart is bleeding out on your own bedroom floor. There isn’t even enough time to process Jungkook’s talk and now you need to deal with this?
“Babe?”
But despite what you feel, even if your throat is seizing and your chest is caving in, your answer will be what he needs.
Because seeing Yoongi look like this—torn and frayed at the edges—renders you powerless and protective all at once. For fuck’s sake, he looks slightly panicked and this is the second new side of him you’ve seen tonight.
And yet he found a way to be with you one last time.
Sacrificing seconds just to say goodbye.
So you give up something, too. Your wants and needs because you don’t think you can do this, but it seems way too important to him to not try.
You get it. That whole confrontation probably snapped all sense back into him. He doesn’t want to hurt his best friend. Or disrupt his work environment. Or both. Whatever whatever whatever. You should’ve seen this coming.
If distance is what he wants, you’ll give it. Instant karma because you just told someone else to give you some, too.
Of course you lose someone as soon as you gain back another.
“Doll, let me know because—”
“Anything,” you rush out, and yearning taints your voice on the descent. “I’ll do it.”
He pans from one eye to the other, and you weakly reveal a crack in your resolve,
“Anything for you.”
That answer was a lot more than what you meant to say. And the next look he gives rips you into shreds. Shreds of the bigger truth you just told him with moments left of his time.
“For us,” he corrects, swooping in to give you one more soul-shattering kiss.
And with that, he pulls away, turning to retreat into the real world that proves absurdly cruel.
You don’t know when you’ll get to be alone with him again. It could be a day. Or months. Or even longer.
But watching him go, you know you can get through this. You know you can do it.
Because this is nothing new. Just another person leaving. You’ve gone through it before and you’ll go through it again and this time will be different, right? Right? He’ll come back. Of course he will.
And yet there’s still a part of you that questions.
If people are like seasons…
Which one will Yoongi be?
Fuck.
Your body is moving before the rest of you does, and you propel forward to tug him in, flooding his lips with saltwater and longing and a deluge of reluctant trust.
And he responds in an instant, swallowing you in an embrace you’ll cherish forever and willingly giving in to your desperate tugs on his jacket.
“Yoongi, I—”
You hear another insistent knock before he slings you into the nearest wall, and he grips the back of your head so hard you sob into his mouth.
“I know.”
His name rattles around your mouth.
“It’ll be okay.”
You wanna believe him.
“Okay?”
But you only nod, eyes filled with oceans but gaze unwavering. Because you need to see him. Because you need to see him.
“Fuck.”
He smashes his lips on yours once more, capturing every soft plea for him to stay and holding you so tightly that your heart splinters. And while you know this is his way of telling you everything will be okay, you have a sinking suspicion that he is fighting to believe it himself.
It’s not fair.
None of this is fucking fair.
If he was anyone else, if you were anyone else, if your brother wasn’t the way he was, if Jungkook wasn’t in the position he’s in now.
It was just nights ago that you cradled all his moonlight in your palms.
And now you’ll be farther apart than stars.
Yoongi finally pulls away right as Dom opens the door, and a myriad of emotions slosh into your brain when his eyes never leave you.
“I got us,” he vows, finger on your chin the sole thing keeping you afloat, and you suspend in disbelief that someone you know is witnessing his lips press your forehead in real time and no explosions or helicopters are crashing onto the scene.
Just a panicked “Hurry up, for god’s sake!” to indicate your friend is not amused or phased.
Yoongi finally steps away, slowly backing up before slipping out, and the door closes with only you inside—hand clawing deep into your chest.
Because you know him well enough.
He was committing your every feature to memory.
And the desperation in his reddened eyes hunches you forward in pain.
The rest of the party goes on. Music booms, people laugh, conversations sparkle.
And you hear them all through your door.
Unmoved from the spot everyone left you in.
Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: Hey
Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: You up or nah?
You [1:40am]: yeah
Idiot🙄 [1:40am]: Help me clean up
You scoff at your phone, letting it fall from your hand before resting tired eyes between your knees.
When it buzzes again, you reluctantly read it with vision unreflecting.
Idiot🙄 [1:42am]: Left food for you, too
That you will leave your room for. You may have just cried out your weight in tears alone.
You🙄 [1:46am]: ok
Idiot🙄 [1:46am]: 👍
Cleaning is a quiet event, with you both doing the chores you’ve defaulted to over the years. While he clears the floors and deals with the trash, you steadily get through the dishes, scrubbing them as well as you can before placing them in the washer to dry.
A plate. A bowl after that.
Two whisky glasses even though there were plenty of solo cups to use.
You needed this. Needed a way of going through the motions and letting your brain fly on autopilot. If you sniffle, the water drowns it out, and only the dishes get to see any lingering tears.
And unluckily for you, there are plenty of both.
“Hey.”
You hum.
“Do I need to beat his ass?”
Well, that didn’t take long.
Frustration tears its way up your throat on all fours, “I should kick yours for what you did back there.”
“And I’d deserve it.”
You pause.
“But I still wanna know.”
Sighing, you shake your head, knowing that neither of you are angry enough to fight anyways. “No, okay? I was serious. We talked.”
“I know you talked but he still hurt you.”
Your lip stings under your teeth.
“And I can’t just let that go.”
When he stops, you place another dish on its rack. “Let’s just finish and I’ll tell you everything in a sec.”
He sets down the last of his trash before retiring in the living room, the thump of weary weight squeezing a sigh out of the couch.
And you eventually join him, water cutting off with a squeak before you shuck off your gloves.
As you walk through the cleaned-enough rooms, you keep hearing afterimages of conversations, wondering how many revolved around your shouting match with Jungkook, or how many speculated who Yoongi is or isn’t seeing.
All these pretend scenarios mock you from all sides.
But the conversation you’re about to have with your brother is gonna be real. And a long time coming, quite frankly.
You take a breath before crossing into a space that’s seen and heard many things. While you take residence in your regular spot on the sofa, your brother doesn’t deter his gaze from a television that’s not on.
But as soon as you blurt out your confession, he slowly closes his eyes.
“He broke up with me. Before I left for school.”
“...Why didn’t you tell me.”
Brows scrunched, you waste no time in pinning him with your response, “Did you see yourself back there? Imagine if you found out back then.”
Silence.
“Besides,” you continue, deflating back into the cushions, “He was moving, remember? And you had enough going on. I didn’t want you to worry.”
“I always worry.”
“It’s whatever at this point. I didn’t even know he was back until Yoo—you told me.”
Shit, that was close.
“I shouldn’t have made it a surprise.”
“Not your fault. What’s done is done.” When you observe the blank screen, you can see your brother aim a look your way. “Just made the whole uni thing miserable at first.”
And the years after, too, but he doesn’t need the same details that Yoongi got.
He sighs, hand scratching the side of his head before free-falling. When it’s quiet, you think he’s preparing for war. Prepping a vow to go after Jungkook and dealing with a problem that’s not yours anymore.
But he doesn’t do that. What he says catches you completely off guard.
An apology.
“I’m sorry I’m always gone. Or not really here when I’m back.”
Where did that come from? Are you already done with a talk you dreaded for years?
This can’t be it.
Blinking, your mouth slowly opens before you respond as level as possible. “It’s okay. I can pretty much fend for myself at this point.”
“I know. But I’ll try to be better.”
He’s gonna what? “Why?”
“Cus I feel… Uhh.” He moves his lips around in thought, as if the next sentence takes strategy to arrange. “I feel like we don’t really talk anymore.”
“…Oh.”
You’re thoroughly thrown. Because who the hell is this person you’re talking to right now? What’s up with him? He doesn’t need to try anything better except calm the fuck down sometimes. And let you be an adult.
And frankly, you feel like you talk a normal amount anyway. At least, you didn’t think anything was off about it.
What the hell happened after he left your room?
Suddenly, you see him laugh at the ground before asking it a question. “Remember when we’d go get our own food?”
Alright, he’s definitely drunk or a clone.
But you’ll take it. This switch in what you expected this conversation to be is a welcome one, and you softly entertain memories that aren’t supposed to be this funny. “Yeah. We’d get told to come back with our parents.”
“Until they realized we kept going alone.”
A memory makes you smirk. “You even tried dressing like a grown up.”
He chuckles again, elbows resting on his knees as he watches your coffee table. “I really thought I did it, too.”
“You did.” Thinking about all the shit you both went through, it’s truly a wonder how you’re both still here. Living and existing and doing big things.
A rueful chuckle leaves your lips, floating to the floor. “We’re fucked up, huh.”
“Very,” he agrees. “But who isn’t.”
True. “It could be worse, I think.”
“How?”
You play with some of the frays on your sofa, wondering when this piece of furniture started to resemble thin lines of too-soft polyester at its edges.
Did it start to give up around the same time your parents did? Or had their patience worn thin way before the threads on this cushion began to fade?
Whichever truth remains, at least it’s still here—witnessing all the struggles and triumphs, the highs and lows, and all the times the two of you had sat in puffy-eyed silence.
Together.
“They could’ve left us somewhere else.”
“Ah,” he nods, slowly shaking his head and twisting the watch on his wrist. “Nah.”
Silent, your eyes find his side profile in due time. “No?”
And his glare burns the path ahead. Just like it always has. “I wouldn’t have let them.”
“Oh, really.”
“I got them to leave us all this, didn’t I?”
Wait, he did what now?
…You didn’t know that.
“Hold on,” you breathe slow. “That’s what happened?”
“We had a deal.” He sighs before leaning all the way back, hands joined at the knuckles on his stomach. “If I graduated with full marks and, uhh. Got a starting salary high enough, they’d pay for your tuition.”
The pause he makes weighs a ton.
“And leave this to us when you came back.”
So… He…
Holy shit.
You were just fucking relieved you didn’t have to pay any loans. For once, you thought your parents really had your best interests in mind and did something out of kindness before peacing the fuck out.
But it’s all because your brother negotiated and pulled off the near impossible?
…Is he paying loans?
“I didn’t know any of that,” you whisper, finding yourself on the verge of tears again.
He simply shrugs, looking down at his cherished piece that he rarely takes off. “You didn’t need to. You were just a kid.”
“So were you.”
Your brother purses his lips, and you wonder what words he could be holding back. What thoughts he has that he won’t say out loud. If any of them are things he wants to say but can’t.
“It’s whatever.”
He had to grow up fast so that you didn’t have to.
And you don’t have the heart to tell him that university fast tracked that anyways.
So, while grateful as hell and knowing you’ll be thinking about this conversation for years, you switch the subject. You’re already overwhelmed as is.
And you suddenly understand what Yoongi might be struggling with, too.
Because if he did all this for you, what lengths has he gone for his best friend?
Shoving that thought into a far corner of your brain, you rest your head to mirror your sibling, letting your tears slide back to where they came from. “I, umm. Was wondering why they left us the house. But I figured they just didn’t wanna pay for it.”
“It was already paid off,” he explains, seemingly just as happy to talk about something else. “Don’t ask me how I know this, but it’s how I was able to negotiate in the first place. They had four other properties, and a condo on some island.”
“What.”
“That’s why they were rarely here. Work trips, my ass.” He scoffs before bouncing a leg. “And they had us in this place.”
“I like it here, though.”
“I do, too, but…” You hear a shuffle of his feet before he stops. “I just. I dunno, it’s just us here. It feels...”
“Empty?”
“Maybe. More like something’s missing? I dunno, that’s probably lame.”
You inhale before assuring him. “It’s not.”
And with that, you’re both left to stare at the same ceiling, conversation stewing and simmering around the whole room.
Usually, this is when you leave. Because you don’t wanna talk about shit like this, or you simply feel like doing anything else.
But tonight, you want to stay. You didn’t know these things about your brother and what he did, and it’s making you realize a lot of things.
And regret others.
A question rolls off your tongue before you can overthink it, “Do you ever wonder what we did wrong?”
“All the time.”
“When I think about it, I always end up thinking the same thing.”
“Hmm.”
You tilt your head his way. “We weren’t the adults. But neither were they.”
And you both huff in tandem after he grins. “Damn.”
You don’t know how the two of you got here. But it was much better than talking about anything else, and you silently thank him for not making you more miserable than you already were.
Truthfully, you feel a little better instead.
He just needs to know for sure that you really are past the whole situation. Mostly. A healthy amount, at least.
So you tell him. “I mean it, thou—”
“I’m sorry.”
“Huh?” You look over to see regret fill his side of the couch.
“For what I did. I was outta line.”
“Oh.” You swallow, surprisingly emotional that he’s even owning up to it. You know it only happened because he was being protective, but hearing this from him is huge. That had to be hard. “Thank you.”
“I just.. I love you, okay?” He turns to look at the ceiling again, and you quickly have to do the same because you know how that was even tougher to say. “You and my brothers.. You’re all I’ve got.”
Liquid emotion runs down your cheek, never having been told that more than once in a single day.
It’s a shame how foreign it sounds when you say it back.
But that doesn’t make it any less true.
“Love you, too.”
An hour later, you find yourself in bed, clutching your phone while a single question loops through your brain.
…Calling should be okay, right?
Even if you can’t see him, or really be in the same room, this should be okay. At least, in the dead of night when even birds are asleep. When no one is awake to judge you both for lying to the people you...
Your chest squeezes when you press down on your decision, the talk with your brother repeating in your ears.
Yoongi: Outgoing Call
It’s ringing.
Still ringing.
…And you feel your chest cave when you hear it go to voicemail.
Fuck.
Maybe he’s sleeping already. Unforeseen circumstances like emotional turmoil tend to slow down your getting ready for bed process, so it took a lot longer than usual. Maybe he isn’t actively avoiding your calls and is just face down in a pillow you miss using.
And maybe you need to get used to this god-awful feeling as quickly as you can.
This hollow, aching, painful feeli—
Yoongi: Incoming Call
Your chest booms when you see his name, and you try your absolute hardest to answer normally even though instant tears blur the screen.
“H—”
“Sorry, I was showering, fuck.”
His breath sounds so rushed, and you immediately wonder what he looks like if he didn’t take that long to answer. Imagining him in only a towel or less, you let out a pained chuckle before whispering, “You okay?”
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”
Of course that’s his answer. “I’m not. Just wondering if you were.”
“Why would I be if you aren’t? Ow.”
Body alert, you only focus on that last syllable. “Wait, are you hurt?”
You hear a low grunt before he responds.
“Just hit my fucking knee getting out.”
Ouch. How the hell did he do that? “I’m sorry. You got ice, though, right?”
“It’s not that bad. Just stings.”
“Okay.”
There’s some crunching sounds before you hear footsteps and hisses, and a thump before other noise crackles through.
“Spoke to Kook.”
Shit.
“And the guys.”
Oh. About work. “What’s up?”
“We’re gonna be busy as shit for the next month or two, so.. Guess that came at a good time.”
Ah. No finish line in sight.
But he didn’t hide that information from you, so you appreciate the honesty. Better than him leaving you in complete darkness.
“Yeah, do your thing,” you support. “I need to prep for this interview anyway. And figure shit out if I end up getting the job.”
“When you get it.”
You exhale, shy. “When I get it, yeah.”
“Where is it again? That blue building, yeah?”
“Mmhmm. But where I’ll be is like, third floor.”
“See? Claiming shit already.”
You realize right as he says it, but you meant something completely different. Your laugh is soft. “I meant for the interview.”
“Mm. Well lemme know where you post up after they hire you.”
“Yoongi.”
“Fine.”
“Did you, umm. Did you and Kook talk about anything else?”
“Just work stuff.”
“Okay.” Your eyes lower. If he’s telling you everything, you gotta reciprocate.
Even the stuff you don’t wanna mention. “He tried to kiss me.”
“What.”
Swallowing at his tone, you whisper, “I told him I couldn’t.”
“…I see.”
Fuck. He does not sound okay with that in the slightest. Disappointed with yourself, you apologize, “I’m sorry.”
“Huh? Don’t be.”
“You sound mad.”
There’s another moment of silence, and you don’t think you breathe until he responds,
“Not at you, doll.”
Well, shit. You don’t wanna cause any friction between them, especially after the energy Jungkook gave off earlier. It’s still bugging you to hell. “Nothing happened, baby. But he felt really off after y’all left, so.. I dunno. Be careful.”
“I will. But that means I can’t talk when he’s around.”
You bury your head, watching the hours that you get with Yoongi dwindle away. Knowing Jungkook, he’s gonna immerse himself in whatever keeps him distracted. So he will most likely be at the studio just as much. “At least you were there today,” you whisper.
“Mm.”
“Honestly, I didn’t expect that.”
There’s a breath on the line, and you can tell he’s hesitant just by the way he moves his phone. So when he finally speaks, your jaw goes slack.
“I was there first, doll.”
He what?
“Wait… You were?”
He was at your door first? He has to know how that looked, right? Your brother clearly saw him if he was the one to shout, and yet there was no mention of it when the two of you spoke.
Maybe that’s part of why Yoongi decided what he did. A decision to help you came with consequences he knew were coming. But he did it anyway.
Your breath is suddenly short. And your head is starting to spin with information overload.
“The plan was to only check for a sec, but he had the same idea. Showed up right behind me.”
“So… You both heard—”
“Nothing until the yelling.”
They were there the whole time. Both of them. Yoongi first? Your brother joining him?
Nope. This is too much. All of this is way too much for one night and your head is bursting at the seams.
Just another reason why this separation could be a good thing. Other than the fact that Jungkook seems weird and you can’t see Yoongi at all and him and your brother really are more than friends and you wedged yourself right in between everybody—
Information. Realizations. Guilt. You’re spiraling.
Run.
“I’m, umm. I’m gonna get off now.”
“You okay?”
Say yes. Say anything but “No. I’m… I don’t know, I really don’t know—This is a lot and—”
“Wait—”
“I get it and I’ll stay away for as long as you want—”
“Babe, talk to—”
“Bye, Yoongi.”
And you immediately hang up before your dam floods.
He doesn’t need to hear your grief over the past, your regrets of the present, your fear of the future. He doesn’t need to know how pained you really feel dealing with everything at once. How harsh his departure is because this is when you need him most.
Yoongi: Missed Call
All he needs to know is that you’ll do this for him. Because he would do the same for you.
And he’s done enough for everyone other than himself.
But goddamn if this doesn’t hurt like nothing else you’ve experienced before.
And you’ve been through hell.
Yoongi: Missed Call (2)
Why is he calling? Won’t this just make it harder?
Why does he keep trying if you need to stay away?
Yoongi: Incoming Call
With a heart so busted you don’t know where all the pieces are, you finally reach up to acknowledge his effort.
And his greeting sends a pang through your chest.
“Knew you’d answer on the first try.”
Sniffling, you say his name so, so softly.
“You didn’t let me say bye.”
When you don’t respond, he trudges on.
“So now, you get to hear the longest good night ever.”
Huh?
“And no hanging up this time.”
What the heck does he… mean…
As soon as you hear the light strums of a guitar, your heart shows signs of life. And you let everything out while he gathers the scattered shards with every chord. Every note.
Every second he doesn’t say goodbye.
A river flows into your pillow until it runs dry, and the Moon outside your blinds casts a silver blanket over your defeated shoulders.
And it’s only when you and your phone are dead to the world that the Sun steps in to peel it off with calm palms.
For the first time in a long time, you plan a sleepover at Taehyung’s.
And after getting a rundown of what happened, he completely agrees that you both need it.
It’s been a minute since you slept over there, and rolling onto his driveway makes you remember the first time it happened.
Your brother was outright flabbergasted you even asked.
But after some arguments from you and very clear energy from Tae, your brother waved you off and just demanded no funny shit better happen.
And you’ve spent so many nights over there since then that Taehyung’s one of the people he calls if he’s looking for you.
Being reminded of something else interesting, you think back to the first time you went to Yoongi’s, spending enough time there that he ended up on the list of people to call about your whereabouts.
As hot as he was picking up with a cheeky arm around you, it was surprising he was on that list in the first place.
Well, maybe not. They’re best friends. But why would he—
“You just gonna waste gas in my driveway or what?”
Snapping your head up, you see Taehyung looking bored, hands on his hips and wearing the most comfortable clothes you’ve ever seen.
Your glare in return is empty when you finally get out, circling around to grab your stuff and take-out from the passenger seat.
“You’re lucky I like you,” you joke as he goes to grab the food. Locking your car, you follow his grumbles into the house with a laugh, feeling a little okay already.
“How’s Jimin?”
“Still complicated, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”
You sigh before you poke your noodles, knowing you have quite the catch-up to get through. If only your attempt at procrastination worked.
“Eat,” Taehyung orders before taking a hearty slurp of his meal. “I don’t care if you’re sad, this wasn’t cheap.”
“Excuse you.” He’s lucky you resist the urge to fling saucy food all over his shorts. “Also, I paid for it, the hell?”
When your friend blows air through his nose, you scoff before silently doing as he says, pouting at the beginning credits onscreen.
“How long has it been?”
Ah. That’s a good start.
As you peer down at your food, emotion and appetite abandon your palate,
“A month.”
“...Damn.”
Taehyung already knows all about what happened. But even if he didn’t, you think he would’ve caught on to your increasingly depressing song choices. And the way you barely watched Yoongi during the last intramural game.
“How’s the new job, though? Good distraction?”
That you can talk about for hours. “Thank fuck it is.”
“That’s good, at least.”
As your meal progresses, you continue to catch him up on everything, including the way night calls are the only thing keeping your hopes afloat.
Because Yoongi was right. Ever since the party, weekdays have been radio silent, and you soon got accustomed to looking forward to his late texts saying he’s home.
And you’ve been okay with that. Landing the job and getting swamped with training has kept you busy, and your friends have been a wonderful salve for persisting wounds.
It just stings when you know the studio is close by. Because even though Yoongi extended invitations before, you avoid that area like the plague.
“But enough about me,” you huff. “Still complicated with him, huh.”
If Taehyung knows you’re too sad to keep talking, he doesn’t show it. His response simply comes after a few chews. “Yeah. But”—he swallows—“Not in a way I’m mad about.”
“What do you mean?”
Taehyung settles back into the sofa right as a ball of fluff hops on, and you watch the movie roll by while he gently orders him to get down. “He’s not as flaky. We just haven’t really labeled anything yet.”
That’s surprising to hear. Tae doesn’t strike you as the labeling type at all, so your question is genuine, “Do you need one?”
A huff is what you get in return, and you can hear the smile in his tone. “He seems to want one more than me. Which is why I don’t get the hesitation.”
“Mm.”
That makes more sense. Knowing what you know about Jimin, you aren’t shocked he would be conflicted about something he really wants.
Why he’s skirting around the point is the question. It’s clear to you that they would be so cute together. And sickly annoying in public.
“Maybe that’s a good sign,” you blurt, roping your friend’s gaze and attention. Spotlight on you instead of the characters bustling about his television, you smile. “It’s like he’s scared because he cares about your feelings.”
Not unlike what’s happening between another pair of friends you know.
Taehyung blinks, and you’ve always liked the way curiosity widens his eyes.
But he’s so quiet that you shift. “What?”
He keeps staring before biting an incoming smile. Before you can question him again, something brightens his expression. “You’ve changed, you know that?”
Huh. “Me? How?”
Your friend just grins before resting his head on the top of his cushion. “I’ve always known you were amazing. But now you look like you know that, too.”
All thoughts fizzle out before your jaw dips. When you try to present arguments, none materialize, and Taehyung laughs at the way you physically buffer.
“Not even denying it. I like this.”
“Shut up,” you finally pout, embarrassed and shy when he laughs again.
The rest of the film continues with nothing else but your commentary, and Taehyung clicks out of the queue screen before another one can start.
“Break? Or what do you feel like?”
You feel Yeontan’s fluff at your feet. “We can keep going.”
“Mmk.”
Both of you contemplate which one to pick when you feel your phone vibrate a ton. And when you see the notification, your heart leaps before crashing back down to the ground.
Yoongi [5:02pm]: Just got booked for another week
Yoongi [5:03pm]: Can’t talk now but
Yoongi [5:03pm]: Letting you know
Right.
You slowly let your hand drop with a sigh, and you can feel Taehyung’s pitied stare without moving.
“I know,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t be upset.”
“You can definitely be upset.”
You lift weary eyes to see that your assumption was very wrong. There’s no pity evident at all.
Only warmth. And understanding.
“Cus knowing him? He’s probably more frustrated than you are.”
There’s a pinch in your chest, a sharp one that cuts your breath for a small second in time.
Him? Being more upset than you?
You only thought about that possibility once, but you quickly dismissed it. There’s no way.
But hearing Tae say it from a guy’s perspective—and someone that knows how Yoongi can be—gives you pause.
It just didn’t make sense before because he sounds fine when you call, and he doesn’t really talk much about his own shit unless you ask. Which is strange considering he was fine doing so after your huge breakthrough at his place. Granted, it was mostly about good things.
Does he only hold back when it’s about stuff that stresses him out? That’s not ideal. You’ve told him before to tell you what’s bothering him, so if he’s still hesitant to let you in…
Taehyung’s honeyed voice brings you into the present,
“What are you gonna say?”
Blinking, you push your lips together in thought before looking at your phone again.
If Yoongi really is more upset than you are, then you should tell him something that you would wanna hear from him. Even if you aren’t feeling so hot.
You [5:07pm]: how’s ur back feel from carrying everyone so hard🥴
You [5:07pm]: jk its ok<3 you’re getting recognized and it’s about time
When you send those, something strange happens to your shoulders.
They’re lighter.
How is that possible? You’re still sad.
But your mind seems to clear some junk out, instead feeling a little okay about the whole thing.
Hopefully Yoongi receives them well. If he doesn’t, you’ll figure something else out.
Yoongi [5:09pm]: Lmaoo I’m saying. They better run me my check and cover my hospital bills.
You laugh with teary eyes, soul feeling like it’ll live despite plans being pushed back again.
The lingering sadness remains, but it’s dwindled for now. An afterthought to the slight happiness you feel from lifting him up instead of dragging him down.
Another message slides into the thread before you click your phone shut, so when Tae gets more food, you catch what it says.
Yoongi [5:11pm]: Fuck I miss you
And your heart beats extra loud, mouth slightly curved and wobbly because you agree but it’s okay, okay, okay. You can both do this.
You [5:12pm]: i miss you too.. but focus now and tell me all about it later
Of course you want to cry. Of course you want to curl up into a ball and sob.
Yoongi [5:15pm]: Thanks doll
But just like there’s strength in being strong, there’s just as much strength in being gentle.
Because as upset as you feel, it’s better if you don’t show it. While you aren’t completely resolute, you push forward in silence. Even if you can’t see the finish line.
The lingering feeling of anxiousness remains; the what-if’s batter your mind from the inside. But you choose to stay optimistic for him, and even you have to admit that’s admirable.
But the yearning still packs a fucking punch.
Your shoulders must be slumping to hell because you feel a warm presence settle against you, slinging an arm around and holding you close.
The only sound you make is a quick sniffle, but you don’t move as Taehyung reads the thread on your phone.
“You see what I see, right,” is all he whispers.
And when you slightly shrug, he leans his head against yours.
“You will.”
Nodding, you feel more tears follow the paths of their predecessors, and you don’t move to wipe them away. “You’re a good person, Tae.”
His chuckle sounds like a hearth, and you welcome Yeontan’s sniffs on your legs.
“Jimin’s lucky you’re even giving him a chance.”
“Ah.” After squeezing your bicep, your friend reaches down to pick up his baby. “He’s lucky I gave him more than one.”
“Oh? The luckiest then.”
“You can do this,” he murmurs. “He’ll be ready before you know it.”
With heavy eyes, you glance down at your still unfinished food.
“Maybe you’re right.”
One week turns into three.
Then two more pass.
And Taehyung might be less correct than you thought.
“Fuck,” you groan, clutching under your stomach. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”
“It’s okay.”
“At least you don’t have to see me this gross.”
“So?”
“You better stop.” Another eruption of pain shoots through your lower body, and you exhale into your pillow. “This is only making it worse.”
“You got a heating pad?”
A what? How does he know about—
Oh. Right.
…You probably shouldn’t tread waters you don’t know the depths of.
“Yeah. But it’s too far and I’m lazy.”
He laughs in pity but doesn’t show any in his words,
“Go get it, doll.”
Because being reminded of his last relationship also makes you wonder why it ended. And wonder if that also has anything to do with his decision.
Now hurt in multiple ways, you childishly retort, “You get it.”
“I would if I was there. But I’m not, so you’re gonna.”
“Fine.” You huff into your pillowcase, knowing you’re gonna get up because his perfect mix of support and command is annoyingly attractive. “How much longer?”
Yoongi’s too quiet for your tastes.
“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
Eyes closed, you’re silent for eons.
“Okay.”
To your confusion, you get a food delivery at your office the next day.
Inspecting the contents of the bag, you’re cautious until you notice a takeout box of mandu under some sweets and a few all too familiar fruits.
And at the note inside, you promptly proceed to the least used bathroom to compose yourself.
Soon.
Soon and Almost are somewhat similar.
Both can give people a bit of hope.
But they can also be the most dangerous words to play with.
Because soon is hilariously arbitrary, and you almost believed it meant something good.
“Going to Yoongi’s.”
“K.”
“You wanna go? He’s having a few people over.”
You bite down so hard your jaw hurts. “Nah, I already have plans tonight.”
“K. Have fun!”
When the door closes, you keep your eyes on the television.
Arms falling at your side because you know you aren’t going anywhere.
On a random Tuesday, you finally get a package you’ve been waiting on for what seems like months, and you rush to your room to check if it’s exactly what you wanted.
When it looks so beautiful, and feels smooth to the touch, you clutch the material in sorrow.
It’s perfect.
And completely useless for the time being.
Calls have been the one thing getting you by.
But over time, even those have virtually stopped.
It can’t be helped. He’s working far too late into the night for you to stay awake, and is passed out by the time you need to wake up.
Spending time with friends helps distract from the drift, especially when one of them keeps snapping you into the present, but they’re getting busy, too.
However. Despite all the obstacles, you keep waiting. A season has passed, yet you stay grounded.
Hoping, wishing, choosing to believe that Yoongi’s not gonna do the same.
You accidentally spill your drink.
And you sob.
One chilly night, you take more of Taehyung’s advice, going to Jimin’s determined to have a good time.
But despite the manufactured confidence you had while getting dressed up and the way you were totally fine walking in and conversing with people and the admittedly perfect vibes of the party…
There’s a hole in your chest that won’t decrease in size.
No matter what you feed it—food, drinks, the compliments of others—it refuses to budge, and this emptiness holds weight. Heavy. Melancholic.
Painful.
As you suddenly find yourself on Jimin’s windy balcony, one with a slightly different view than the one you’ll remain on forever, dull eyes lower to your solo.
If you forget this one on the railing, too…
Will he finally show up to hand it back?
A sharp ache spreads as the hole expands, new tears too powerful to ignore. You know your vision swims, but you don’t move to stay afloat at all.
Three months.
Ninety days.
Eight million seconds.
It only took sixty for you to miss him. And it only took sixty-one for you to feel something else.
How many more will you end up counting? How long until you get to count down instead of up?
You keep asking yourself that. When you know for damn sure that you don’t want to know the answer.
A breeze wraps around your limbs as you sip, the chill cutting through your dress and making you teeter in your heels.
Because it seems like Yoongi doesn’t know, either.
To the point where it’s starting to scare you.
Has he been perfect otherwise? Sickeningly.
But something in you keeps wondering why the wait keeps extending, anxious that he could be flat out stalling.
Prematurely saddened by the possibility that he’s reconsidering entirely.
It makes sense. At least, more sense than him actually wanting something with you. Maybe this time apart has given him the clarity to realize how rose-tinted this whole situation has been. How unrealistic and laughable.
But that night in his kitchen…
It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive.
On the verge of defeat, you hold out your phone, clicking around until your finger hovers over a certain Call button.
You can’t.
He’s working. Someone could see your name, if he has it saved as normal as you have his.
Your finger moves a bit closer.
What the fuck are you doing? Stop. Don’t screw up everything you’ve had to endure with one impulsive decision.
But your mind is fucking bad tonight and you have no clue why.
When the screen lights up with the call screen anyway, ice water rushes through because you totally didn’t mean to call and you need to end it now.
Hold on, it’s an incoming call?
Oh fuck, it’s an incoming call.
Your throat sears as your eyes shut tight.
How the fuck did he know? How the fuck does he always know?
Tears burning, you try your hardest to calm the hell down before you answer, wondering why he dubs you his good luck charm when he puts guardian angels to shame.
You can’t even say hello.
“Hey.”
Fuck. Get it together. Gentle, silent, strong.
“Hello?”
But you can’t. Not this time. Just hearing his voice for the first time in weeks has you crumbling, and that damn hole in your chest is unquenchable.
As soon as your greeting is nothing but a weak sniffle, his change in tone seizes your soul and squeezes.
Because it plummets.
“Where are you.”
There’s quick shuffling and a door opening.
“What’s wrong.”
Damn it there’s keys jangling and you can’t help but sob even harder knowing exactly what he’s doing.
Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. He doesn’t have to go home just because you’re what, sad? Pathetic.
You feel way too many things for this man and it fucking sucks that eight million seconds have gone by after you finally acknowledged them.
However many you get with him now, whenever that may be, you’re not taking a single one for granted.
“Babe, tell me. Now.”
“Jimin’s. Outside,” you choke out, sniffling and wiping both cheeks. “But nothing happened, Yoongi, I just—It just—”
“Gimme twenty. Can you do that?”
Lowering your head and expectations, you huff in sad amusement.
Of course you can. Twenty minutes is nothing to you now. You can wait until he’s free. “Guess so.”
“K. Go back inside and grab a bag.”
Huh? Knitted brows get aimed at your cup as you question him.
“Chips, doll. Jimin has some in the pantry.”
That doesn’t answer anything, so you remain thoroughly confused. “I’ll be okay,” you respond after a moment, simply assuming he wants you to replenish sodium. “I’m not hungry.”
“I am.”
You freeze.
So does time.
And the next three seconds are enough.
“But you better bring the good shit or I’m not letting you in the car.”
After camping in the only unoccupied bathroom, you finally get a text that he’s somewhere around the corner.
And your chest has never felt lighter.
Texting Tae, you let him know that you’re leaving and that you don’t apologize to Jimin for raiding his kitchen. When he responds, that’s when you slip out, your departure a mess of crinkling and racing heartbeats.
If anyone sees you walking out with chips, you pay them no mind. Because you only care what one person thinks.
And seven minutes later, when you see him doubling over at the bazillion noisy bags in your arms, you laugh along at the absurdity of it all.
It’s almost enough to distract you from what he’s wearing.
But to your credit, you don’t exactly see the damn rips in his jeans until he opens a back door for you to throw your haul in.
As if the black top wasn’t already disrespectful enough. His hair has even gotten longer, and you really, really like the new length.
“Fucking hustler.”
No second is wasted as you grab his shirt, positively melting at the way he doesn’t resist or shy away at all.
In fact, he does the exact opposite, crushing you against his warm car so fast he has to brace himself. You welcome the way air leaves your lungs, because you’re giving it all to him with each pass of his lips over yours.
Both of you know you’re outside, in public, somewhere you can be seen. But, mirroring the last time you kissed under a starry sky, neither of you act like you give a shit.
Just like that, everything that has haunted you fades. The worries, the fears, the doubts. It doesn’t matter how many days have passed, because it feels like he never left.
And you suddenly know Yoongi is summer.
Endless.
“Get in,” he rasps through a smirk. “Thief.”
With a grin spread so wide your cheeks hurt, you respond right as your foreheads meet,
“Anything for you.”
With nothing but the road ahead and him beside you, everything is right with the world.
“You still have to gimme chips.”
Maybe not quite everything.
Smile ruining your attempted pout, you reach behind your seat to pick a random bag, settling on the easiest one to grab. “You really made me get these just for you, huh? Are you eating?”
“Yes, my love. And I never said that.”
Well. That first sentence will never, ever, ever be unpacked.
As you shakily open the bag, you hope his music hides your shiver, “Such a smartass.”
“You’re the smartass.”
“Don’t act like you aren’t smart, too,” you laugh, tugging down your dress because he has his car pretty cold tonight. “I know you are.”
When Yoongi reaches to grab some crisps, his blatant stare on your thighs makes you squirm. “Why?”
“I just… You read.”
To your chagrin, he laughs in surprise, forcing you to look out the window.
Which makes you miss the way he turns down the fans. “I’m smart cus I read? How do you even know?”
“You have books under your coffee table,” you answer without doubt as he digs for more chips. “And you don’t have decor just to have it, so…”
He cocks a brow before focusing on the road, licking his fingers and giving you grief. “I moved those, by the way.”
“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”
“Proactive.”
“Huh? For what?”
He can barely contain his spreading curve. “The next time you decide to fuck up my place.”
Your heartbeat skips as you gawk, and the current song is overshadowed by your playful shouts and tickle attempts. “Oh, bullshit!”
“You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”
“That was you!”
“No?”
“Yes? I was nice and only got your head wet!”
Yoongi glances at you then, head tilted up in cockiness and wide smirk slicing through your every thought.
And you glitch when you realize why.
Settling back into your seat with arms guarding your shyness, you sniff upward. “Ugh. Whatever… I’m right.”
He chuckles a bit before making a turn, and the scenery starts getting familiar.
Way too familiar.
Wait, he’s taking you back to your house?
No no no. Why is he taking you there?
You got into his car fully prepared to go back to his place, consequences and shit be damned. Everything else be damned. One night is all you want right now, and there’s no way you aren’t going without a fight.
All sense of the current mood dissipates when you grip his forearm. “Not there.”
He flicks his gaze, rolling to a stop at an intersection that’s frighteningly close. And his expression falls when he shifts into park with a sigh. “Babe… We can’t.”
“I don’t care.”
“I was only gonna bring you back.”
“Baby, please.”
“He’s home—”
“Do you still miss me?”
He freezes.
Which gives you a chance.
Eyes glossy, you use all the seconds you have to say everything you’ve kept to yourself.
Almost everything.
“Because I get it if you don’t. I do. But I really… I really fucking miss you. And not just because of, whatever. But I consider you a friend and fun as hell to be around, and I haven’t”—you inhale, hating how it shakes—“I haven’t been this happy in weeks. And we aren’t even doing anything.”
Yoongi is completely silent. But that’s okay because you aren’t done.
“I know you said I wouldn’t see you. But after getting to know you? The real you? …That sucks.” You can’t look at him when his hand slips from the wheel. “I’m not gonna make you change anything, just. Telling you what’s on my mind. Like you said. I’m gonna do that a lot more now.”
He doesn’t say a word as a tear cuts one of your cheeks, and you’re brave enough to look his way again. “But it’s been three months, Yoongi,” you whisper. “Is that still not enough for you?”
Time ticks as you hold your breath, oxygen depleting and lungs nearing collapse as you watch his eyes close.
You laid everything out on the table. Your words, your thoughts, your pain.
Whatever he decides, though? You’ll respect it. You said what you wanted to say and you won’t take any of it back. If he wants to prolong this, you won’t stop him. If he doesn’t want this anymore… the home in your heart will need repairs, but you’ll live. Somewhat. You don’t know how but somehow. People are like seasons. You’re used to it.
Yoongi’s still way too quiet.
So, giving up and getting the point, you reach up to open your door.
“Stop.”
You do.
And the way he flexes his jaw shoots magma through your veins before he wrenches the car into drive.
The universe spins as you burst into Yoongi’s apartment, running, bumping, slamming into furniture until you get thrown against his bedroom door.
Welcoming the pain, you devour his scorching lips, fingers digging into his hair with a desperation that frightens you. All you feel is him him him, barely recalling the manic drive over and the way he all but busted into his own place.
If there were any lingering doubts to your question, they’re left out in the chill, not allowed to witness the way he hitches your leg up before pinning you firm with his pelvis.
“Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—”
You moan at the way his jeans feel on your skin, shivers running rampant when you more than feel his hardness poke through. “Please,” you pant, sticking to your word and ready to tell him what you want.
“Please what.”
Everything you want.
Tugging his head back, your admissions rub right against his mouth, “Choke me. Use me. I don’t care, do it all.”
“Huh?”
A breath whooshes out when he yanks you forward with a growl, and you cannot seem to stop, “Don’t be nice. Spit in my mouth. Make me beg like a fucking slut, I need it.”
All the other times, you’ve seen Yoongi break in different ways.
But this is the first time you’ve felt him legitimately snap.
“The fuck.”
Lightning strikes the dark as he slams you backward, teeth clinking against yours when he smothers you with saliva and lust. When he shoves his door open, you stumble back, more unholy plans in mind than he imagines.
You don’t know what’s coming over you.
Even as you force him sideways to shove into his rolling chair, the piercing look he gives is no match for your inner storm.
“Babe—”
Impatient, you drop to your knees, the pain nothing to you as your fingers twitch over his zipper. As you tug his pants down with force, Yoongi’s outright shock is another first for you.
“Are you su—”
“Let me do this,” you plead upward, and you feel highly motivated when he doesn’t do a thing except let out a low, gritty hum.
Grabbing at his cock, you already moan at the way it feels in your palm…
Softly, oh so softly, a large hand closes over yours, and you hear your name in a whisper, haze temporarily receding.
What’s wrong? Does he want you to stop?
When you ask without a word, Yoongi leans forward to capture your lips, and this gives you a warm sort of deja vu. “You drank tonight, yeah?”
“Yeah…?” Oh. He totally tasted alcohol. And your frantic behavior. He thinks—Oh.
Understanding what he’s getting at, you reach up and caress his cheek. “I’m not drunk, baby,” you chuckle. “I just missed you.”
Again, he looks at your eyes, one after the other. When you say it once more for good measure, he kisses you in acceptance.
“So are you gonna fuck my throat or nah?”
He falls back with a groan, raking his hair and legs spread wide. “What are you doing to me.”
“This.”
Without prompt, you dive head first, leaning forward to take his tip and swirl your tongue all around. Commanding his every drop of attention, you don’t let up as you tug your dress downward, breasts spilling out before you stand just enough to claim his lips.
He takes full advantage with a devilish curve, smacking your tits before ordering, “Get the fuck back down there.”
And you obey with a proud smirk of your own, hoping he’s liking this new side of you, too.
Back between his knees, you worship his length in earnest, swallowing him again and again and lathering him in saliva so your hands slide easily on him, too. When you feel his veins rub both your palms, you hear a symphony of lustful baritones.
“Holy fuck.”
You quickly discover you can’t get enough. Lapping, sucking, sheathing your head on his cock so far your brain smushes upward. He feels so familiar at this point that you realize you missed him even here, knocking the back of your throat and burdening your tongue with heavenly, sinful weight.
And you feel more familiar palms grip your head, eyes opening to see him staring down with reverence and something you can’t quite decipher.
“So fucking filthy...”
You chuckle, the rumble making him hiss and throw his head back against his chair.
“Don’t do that.”
You gladly disobey, laughing even harder around him before releasing with an expert pop to suck on his balls.
“Fuck!”
There’s a slight squeak before he grips you again, and you can tell he’s slipping by the way his moans devolve into breathy, short hisses.
Breaking, he pushes your head into his sack before slapping your cheek with his cock, and you hum as it slips back inside your grin.
Yes yes yes. You want him to enjoy this just as much as you do, steal this time together and run with it, need him to hang on the brink of mania where you currently reside. Because even though he’s saying things, you can’t hear them over the wholly impure sounds slopping out of your esophagus.
“Fucking hell, baby,” he praises, thrusting up slow as you keep him slathered. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”
You finally come up for air, gulping in air and letting him see you in all your panting glory. When you lock eyes, his lidded gaze is loaded, aimed only at your taunting stare.
Drool coats you in globs. Your chest, the floor, hanging from your lips as you stroke him with wet fingers before swallowing another time.
And you think you can do this until your jaw falls off.
But suddenly you’re hoisted upward before being thrown onto soft sheets, legs roughly shifted to one side as you paint the dark with your hoarse giggles. Before you know it, his lips attack your chest, and he’s setting butterflies wild as you arch in record time.
“Take this off,” he growls, tugging at your dress with sweaty fingers that you want lodged in multiple places. “No more hiding.”
You mewl, undressing as fast as you’re able, tearing the garment off and flinging it away. But your heels are still on, and whether he’s just as deft at removing those, too, you’ll need to hit pause. “What about my—”
“Don’t,” he grits with brows pinched, and his next vow is absolute, pure sin,
“I’m fucking you with them on.”
“Oh, fuck.” Your whine is high as you throw your head back, the next groan guttural as you feel a hand smack the side of your ass with force. Your jaw comes loose, soreness shooting through its curve as your legs are erotically parted to give Yoongi a view of everything.
You know your panties are soaked.
You know he’s gonna wreck your shit.
But seeing him eye the whole mess on display before lifting his hungry gaze your way? You’re damn sure you aren’t gonna survive the night.
Perfect.
“Please fuck me, baby,” you let out with a tone so soft that you think he doesn’t hear you.
He does. “I’m gonna do a lot more than that, doll.”
You tilt your head, confused and wondering what he means.
But he ignores your wordless question, sliding fingers along your ankle before holding your leg to kiss that same spot.
The action alone is enough to rewire your brain, but it’s the way he looks so confident, so unbothered, so determined that has your insides churning with want.
He plants lips there again before shifting his hand down to your calf, yanking your leg back wide and pulling a tiny help out of your throat. When he shifts to grip your other leg, he growls under his breath,
“So fucking perfect.”
“No, you,” you counter with a pout, and flinch what the fuck his slap to your cunt felt good. “Hey!”
“None of that,” Yoongi orders with finality. “Not after all that shit you said at the door.”
“I dunno what happened there,” you admit, inevitably shy under his commanding presence. Your cheeks sizzle before your teeth grip your lip, temporarily brought back to normalcy at his confession,
“Almost made me come.”
“Be for real.”
“Damn serious.”
The cheshire cat would be jealous of your grin. “Then I should keep going?”
“Uh huh.” He cups your whole cunt, and the possessive nature it exudes pushes a whine against your teeth. “Tell me.”
“Fuck me like you missed me.”
A groan rips through his room before he swoops down, lips bruising yours on the landing before he shoves his mouth against your neck.
Tingles erupt over your skin as he laps at your throat, so hard that your entire upper body slides across his rumpled sheets. When you feel his cock rub across your thong and his jeans grazing your skin, his name flies out of your chest. Moans, sighs, everything in between.
“Careful,” he warns low before another toe-curling lick. “You won’t leave if I did that.”
“I don’t want to,” you grit in return, reaching to sink claws in his hair and tug. “Wanna stay.”
Strong arms wrap around you before you feel him spread liquid fire up your shoulder, and he reaches to nip at your ear before deft fingers flick a nipple.
His voice rasps against your cheek, but the words sound reluctant to even leave. “You shouldn’t even be here, babe.”
Fuck. You know that’s true but your heart is rattling like a monster starved.
“Just tonight,” you plead your case. Because you don’t want to be shooed away before it’s over, but if this is all you get, he needs to do something now. “But if you really don’t want this then please kick me out before—”
“Fuck that.” After greedily tweaking your other nipple, he rolls his body against yours, making you fiend for the weighty cock wedged against you with only thin material between. “Fuck all of that.”
He rushes upward before nudging your leg over with a strong hand, and you fixate on the way his chains hit his chest. Just like always. “Don’t move.”
You don’t even get to breathe twice as he drops from sight, and you yelp to his roof as soon as you feel teeth nick your inner thigh. At your flinch, you feel him grip your leg with force, ordering you even harsher,
“I said. Don’t move.”
“But—Yoongi!”
You don’t notice him yank your underwear sideways before flattening a hot tongue against your folds, sucking so good you have to back away from the stimulation. Immediately, both your legs are seized before he tugs you back to him.
“Uh uh.”
And he keeps your legs apart before diving deep, and you’ve never devolved into a quivering mess so fast in your goddamn life. The way he licks, sucks, kisses just where you need—everything sends thunder through your chest, lightning across your cunt, rain into your eyes.
You can do nothing but squirm, squeals and whines and high moans leaving arrowheads in his ceiling.
Holy fuck, did you sound this loud when you worshipped him? Even now, spread wide and willing to give Yoongi the world, you find a moment to be embarrassed in the best way.
If the neighbors hear, you don’t care. They’re gonna know how well he’s feasting on you, how gorgeously corrupt you feel. How you’re his and his alone and ready to scream it to the rooftops.
When you feel a finger alongside his tongue, the sound you make borders on inhuman. You think it’s his name, but even you aren’t quite sure.
All you know is that you’re close. Your thighs are burning and your fingers swipe at his locks but he refuses to let you go. “Yoongi—I’m—”
Suddenly.
He stops.
And every nice thing you have to say to him falls to the wayside. “No no no! Please, fuck—”
The light tap to your cunt makes you quiver, and your chest heaves when he chuckles without pity,
“What’d you say?”
“Plea—Baby!”
“Huh?”
Every fucking time you speak, he taps again. And every time he gets you close, he edges with aggravating control. Again. And again.
And again.
You exist between reality and fiction, somehow seeing yourself unwinding, winding, spiraling out of control. Words start to form abstract blobs of syllables, your mouth hanging open as he peppers lazy, unbothered kisses on your thighs.
In your foggy vision, you think you see him stand. And you’re pretty sure he grabs his cock before he’s rubbing his thick head between your folds oh fuck—
“This is what you wanted, huh.”
Your breath hitches with a whine as you nod.
“You gonna be a good little slut?”
Oh, you’re gonna be whatever he fucking wants. So you nod again, not without a smile lopsided.
“Then fucking beg.”
He smacks his cockhead against your cunt, springing your back in an arch and tugging strings of incoherent speech from your depths. You make hard lines of his sheets as you grip them in both palms, and you don’t wanna know what you’re saying because the way Yoongi’s staring with a smirk has you blacking the fuck out.
To the point where you’re nothing but a quivering, shaking, restless mess on his bed.
You somehow closed your eyes at some point, because they fly open when you feel his lips on yours, and you tug at his stupidly attractive shirt that he didn’t bother to pull off. “Please,” you whisper, brain floating oceans away. “I need you.”
“Need you, too.”
He breaks away to grab a condom, and this is when you realize how intertwined you feel because even this distance is too much to bear. You’re spilling nonsense and breathing harsh and you attribute that to the sole fact that you crave release. It’s aching. Consuming.
Yoongi’s already naked and prepped by the time he positions himself between your sore legs, and you give in without resistance again when he descends on your lips.
When you whisper his name, he kisses it away, and you briefly wonder why his hands shake running up your sides.
Finally, finally, finally, he gives exactly what you want, the initial connection stretching you sore because it’s been way too long. And you feel emotional when you don’t even doubt it’s been too long for him, too.
Because his eyes speak volumes.
They hold onto your every move, watch your every reaction, hesitate when you blow out air accommodating his size.
But you lock yours with him when you relax, weakly grasping his jewelry before sliding fingers up his shoulders. When you nod, he pushes in further, both of you sighing in tandem.
And as soon as you whisper you’re ready, all niceties fly out the window.
You’re thrusted up his bed with a determined stroke before he sets a pace, and your head kicks back as soon as a hand captures your neck.
“Look at me,” he commands, and he gives you a light pat on the cheek before squeezing your jaw. “Open up.”
When you do, spit flings from his mouth into yours, and you already sprint to the edge feeling the weight of your heels and the strength of his body. “Fuck!”
You get pat again—rougher this time—before Yoongi goes to choke you a second time. “What do you say?”
“Me?” you pant, tearing the first thought from your throat when he grits it again. “Thank—”
Fuck, his dick is hitting every spot you need it to. It takes you a second to repeat your garbled guess in full, knowing it’s something you would’ve said anyway. “Thank you.”
“Now swallow.”
As soon as he shoves inside, your obedience is your undoing. The skies open to welcome you as your body locks, thighs squeezing his taut sides as he moans through your release. Waves tug you unbelievably far, and you almost lose yourself in the swell before you crash onto shore again.
“Such a whore for me,” Yoongi praises, kicking you back to the very first night and making you melt. When you peel eyelids open, you notice his smile matches yours, and the shared, cherished memory smoothens your gravelly laugh.
“Love when you do that,” you admit, shaking your head at your own strange preferences. “Don’t know why.”
“Me neither.” He spears you again with a cheeky lip bite. “But it’s so fucking hot.”
Your grin can’t be contained, and this is where you wanna be. Right here. Nowhere else in the fucking universe.
“I’m ready,” you pant, and he gives you a brief look of affection—which you shatter with force. “Fuck the shit out of me.”
Yoongi twitches madly inside your core as he expels a pained, breathy laugh. “Goddamn, this isn’t good for me.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” He doesn’t waste a second gathering your calves while you ponder what he says. “Hold these pretty legs up for me. There you go.”
When you find the easiest way to do so, you marvel at how shaky and slippery your thighs are, wondering if the rest of you is faring any better.
It’s not.
But you can’t dwell on that now because Yoongi is holding on like he’ll lose you, resuming a delicious pace and smacking your hips into his with the most indecent sounds.
Your whines soon join in, and his hums of satisfaction fuel your ever going flame. Heaven and earth could move and you would remain here, suspended in time as he fills you perfectly with every fast stroke.
“Feel so good—”
When he leaves your cunt, you mewl before he grunts, “Fucking—Get up.”
What is he—
You’re hoisted upward so quickly that you see starlight, not even registering the clanks and shifts of items before he’s spinning to pin you down on a solid surface. Your heels find purchase on the floor but your knees prove unbelievably weak.
What’s—
Oh fuck, are you on his desk?
Your hands retreat until they find an edge to grab, and you moan outright when you feel his fingers slide up your cunt, shoving your thong farther over one side of your ass.
“Yoongi—”
You feel full in an instant, jaw going slack as he shoves you backwards on his cock, praises washing down your back as he pushes down any arches you instinctively make.
“Uh uh. Stay like that.”
“I wanna—” Your words are cut off with a whine as you feel a sting on your ass. “Fuck!”
“There you go.”
The rock of the desk is so strong that every bang against the wall booms loud, equipment sliding back and forth and making you briefly worry if anything will fall.
But this is the most turned on you’ve ever, ever felt, and you have no fucking clue why.
You wonder if he feels the same right before his dark laugh consumes you.
“Goddamn.”
Your hands are grabbed before he shoves you forward, letting more of your body lie on the surface so that he can pin sweaty arms at your back.
Oh, fuck!
Your moans glide across wood as he doesn’t let up, and you don’t even want to know how much drool will exist on his desk when you’re done. Maybe you’ll never be done. Maybe he really will keep you here forever, and you’ll soak his whole—
“Come here.”
He gathers your wrists in one large palm before reaching to grip your chest, hauling you up and securing you against his body by the throat.
And you think your soul just left your earthly vessel.
Pressing you further into him, he grits in your ear,
“Never fucking kicking you out.” His tight stroke launches you across space. “Don’t even think about saying that again.”
When did you— You said— Why don’t you remember—
You go limp when he shoves into you again, but your heels wobble and you focus damn hard on staying upright.
But Yoongi doesn’t give a shit. “You hear me?” When you let out a breathy confirmation, he still isn’t satisfied. A hand pats your cheek before he asks again, “Say it louder.”
“Yes!”
“Good.”
He drops all talk, pistoning in from behind while you take it and take it and love it. Mercifully, he lets your sore arms go to pin you down again, gritted words and curses dancing with your high-pitched sighs.
Fuck, his strokes are so deep that you see into the next universe, and you don’t think your mouth has been shut ever since you made contact with his desk.
Maybe he was more frustrated than you were. He’s using you as stress relief like you intended, and his roughness is a fantastic surprise.
It’s just what you need. Which kicks you into a whole other level of want and the beast inside you transforms yet again.
When Yoongi yanks himself out, you’re quick to spin and shove him backward. As he flops onto the bed, he laughs like sin incarnate when you pounce, his hot hands grabbing at your hips and encouraging your behavior in the nastiest way.
“Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”
“You already fucking know.”
“Show me what I’ve been missing.”
“Don’t fall in love.”
When you sink onto him, Yoongi’s already groaning. But when you start to swivel at a pace that will render you sore, he begins to lose it.
“Fuck.”
His head kicks back, eyes shut and brows pinched to hell. After holding your waist, he has to slap his sheets to squeeze even tighter, chest marred with red under pretty silver.
You make sure every rotation is full, slowly rocking with each circle you make and gritting teeth at how fucking big he is.
Soon, his hisses devolve into groans, and he snaps his head back up to slap your breasts—one after the other before gripping your hips so hard you welcome the pain.
“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he confesses with husk, and you whine in response as you lower yourself to kiss him deep.
“It missed you, too.”
Coming back up, you dig one of your hands in his mattress while bracing on him with the other, and you close your eyes in bliss as you arch your tits toward his hungry lips.
Just like you want, he chuckles in satisfaction as he suckles, lolling his tongue all around before giving your nipple a hard suck. His noises remind you of lollipops, and you briefly think of a few fun things you could do with those for next time.
But a hand juts up to seize the back of your neck, forcing you to arch in place as he starts thrusting hard.
“Yoongi!”
“Uh huh.”
Before you can talk again, his other hand joins in to choke you just enough, and you find yourself teetering on a precipice. Holy fuck, holy fuck, you’re close again.
“You gonna come?”
A frantic nod.
“Then come.”
As soon as you hear the words, you do exactly that, windpipe released just as you pulse around him incredibly hard. The waves prove tsunamis, and you dangle from their crests before plummeting and tumbling below. Your moan extends as he thrusts erratically through your quivers, encouraging you and digging rough fingers into your hips.
“Again.”
Somehow, that’s enough to make your body obey, and you cry out as you flutter around his trembling cock, hearing him talk you through it but not quite understanding what he’s saying.
Maybe you also choose not to listen because of what you think you hear, and you don’t want to be haunted if you realize later on what you thought you heard wasn’t true.
The world rotates up as Yoongi sits up, and you sling arms around him as he leans back on his hands. Your breath hitches at the new angle he’s filling you at, and your eyes swirl when he coolly, confidently commands,
“Again.”
You can’t you can’t you can’t but you can. Holy fuck apparently you can, and this time, it consumes you so hard your eyes roll back enough to see the past. Past you, insecure and meek and scared to say what they want.
Oh, if they could witness you now.
You shudder impossibly hard around him, coated with his deep chuckles and dashing, ego-ridden grin. It’s all you see before you slump against his chest, heartbeat pounding against yours when you can’t feel any bone in your body.
One breath.
Two breaths.
Two hearts.
One night is enough.
“So fucking perfect.”
“For you,” you wisp out, lost in galaxies. “Only you.”
He can only kiss the side of your head in response, gently lowering you both onto spent cotton and helping you straighten out your muscle-locked legs. When he asks if you’re okay, you can only nod, and he plants another kiss on your temple before sliding off his protection.
Both of you take time to calm down, breaths heavy from what felt like a marathon. But a much better marathon than the one you’ve had to endure over the last three months.
When you lie against his chest, you silently thank him for giving you tonight. It’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever done with him, but you won’t worry about it. Not right now. Not when you feel more at home here than your own house.
Your brother is right. Something is definitely missing over there.
It’s when your pants have relaxed into soft breaths that you nudge your head against Yoongi’s chest, eyes shut in peace as he lazily draws circles on your back.
And the first words he says in minutes inject sparkles into your eyes,
“I need to re-up this damn cat’s food.”
Oh, shit!
Your outright squeal is surely coming out too loud but you don’t care. Don’t care don’t care don’t care not when Yoongi just gave away so many different things.
This man leaned right into the whole thing.
“I knew it!” You proclaim in triumph, smacking his thigh while hearing a very elongated ‘shut up’ at your side. “Tried to hide it from me all these months? Somebody’s getting soft.”
“First off.”
“Uh huh.”
God. If only you both could go on one of those late night shopping trips he talked about before. Maybe you could’ve gotten plenty of things. Like some little cat toys, or extra storage cabinets for your clothes.
Yeah. Stuff like that.
“I’m her favorite.”
Your scoff is immediate as you hoist yourself up, leaning on your hand and regretting the burn in your arm. “Only because you gatekeeped her.”
A soft disagreement precedes a more prominent, “Won’t even matter.”
Yoongi looks so at peace when you stare, and your voice calms to match as it floats down, “You took care of her.”
When he only smiles, you decide that this is how you want him to be all the time. Content and outright glowing, fireflies dancing in his eyes.
Does he feel at home, too?
“She was gonna be your surprise,” he finally murmurs. “For getting the gig.”
Heart and tear ducts full, you lower yourself to tenderly press lips to his. And, since it seems to work for you, his forehead is what you decide to kiss next.
Then you pull away.
Wondering why he’s not smiling anymore.
“Come here.”
You blink, lying back down to snuggle against his side. When his arm wraps around your shoulder, it's only then that you’re aware you still have shoes on. A clean person, you hope Yoongi doesn’t mind them touching his sheets.
But maybe it’s a tad too late for that concern.
“How are you gonna get home?”
Oh, right. You use his chest to scratch an itch in your nose before responding, “I’ll call a ride in the morning. He’ll be out cold until noon at the earliest.”
“K.”
“Did I keep you from anything?”
A puff flies out his nostrils. “Kinda late for that, huh.”
“True,” you sigh, berating yourself for thinking a lot of things too late. “Sorry.”
“But no, we were finishing up when I called.”
“Okay… Did I scare you?” You lift your eyes then, because you need to know for sure.
When he levels a look, you curse at his quiet confirmation. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“S’ok.”
“I just… It hurt tonight.” Emotion washes over your face before you bury it. “Really hurt.”
After a light squeeze, Yoongi gently rolls you over, resting his head exactly where your hand clutches your chest. When you move your fingers, he kisses that same spot, and your heart stops. “How about now.”
Feeling the deepest pain you’ve ever felt in your life, you cradle his head with a whisper,
“Maybe try that one more time.”
And he does, not looking at your tears as he sits up to peer down the bed.
When he scoots down to the edge, your breath catches as he holds a heel in sure hands, his back beautiful even with the scars. While he works through leather straps, he starts to speak,
“I always do, babe.”
Blinking, you ask what he means as he slips your shoe off with ease.
“Miss you.”
As he tenderly holds the other, you gulp in oxygen to quell the sear around your eyes. “I just… Wasn’t sure,” you admit, voice wavering.
His hair falls forward when he sighs, and his palms feel way too relaxing to just be taking your heels off. Even now, it feels like he’s revering you. And you truly don’t know how you deserve any of this.
“That’s my fault.”
Throat small, you’re swift to reassure him. “No, no. I need to just suck it up. I’m sorry.”
After freeing your other foot, he rubs it without prompt, and you don’t know how to deal with someone giving you this level of care.
“Just a little bit longer, doll,” he says, and you admire his profile when he turns. “I’m sorry.”
“You gave me tonight.”
When he swallows, you reassure him with all the support you can give,
“A little longer is nothing.”
A moment passes by before he finally moves, and you catch a hint of a smile right before he faces his disheveled to hell desk again.
Deciding that conversation has concluded, you crack the atmosphere with a joke, “You liked whatever happened over there, huh.”
Immediately, Yoongi’s shoulders bob with a laugh before he admits, “Fucking you on my desk? I’ve wanted to do that for months.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He leans forward. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve wanted us to do for months.”
Us.
Thoroughly giddy and full of life again, you egg him on. “Oh? Like what?”
Finally, he looks over his shoulder with a grin, and you scoff in frustration at his answer,
“What’s the fun in telling you?”
“Ass!”
While you’re getting ready to shower, he leans against the doorframe of his bathroom.
“We have a game next week.”
As you fetch a towel from his cabinet, you clarify, “The championship, right?”
“Mmhmm.”
“I’ll be there,” you confirm, walking away to slip the thick cloth over its rack. “I can’t believe it’s still going.”
“Same. But there’ve been a lot of delays, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” Your hand feels out the water, satisfied with its temperature. “I meant your win streak but whatever.”
And you squeal when he rushes forward, shutting the glass with a wobbly thud before he can get to you. When you stick out a childish tongue, you laugh under the spray, curve slowly, curiously, softly fading when he simply keeps staring.
What’s he doing?
You don’t move as he slowly slides the entrance open again, and you don’t dare breathe as he leans inside to kiss your wet lips.
When you tenderly take one of his wrists and pull, he obliges without hesitation, and you take another shower with the man that sets fireworks off in your soul.
An hour later, filled with food and laughter—and slight disappointment when you couldn’t find your surprise near his door—you occupy his bed with full bellies and fresh minds.
As he lies on your chest, you think this is better, because it gives you time to think about things. And tell him about others.
You finally tell him what all happened with Jungkook, to which he listens without a single word. When you can’t seem to shut up about your job, he doesn’t stop you, and you adore the way he cuddles you under faint moonlight cutting through his window.
“Oh, wait,” you stop, feeling like you’ve talked his head off by now. “What did you call about?”
“Huh? Tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“We finally have a confirmed date. For that album,” Yoongi rumbles against the shirt he let you borrow. “I was gonna invite you to the release party.”
Whoa, what the fuck? “Me?”
He chuckles soft, and you wonder if he can guess how shocked you look. “Yes, you. All of y’all.”
At least it’s everyone. But at the same time, you still hesitate. “That won’t be weird?”
“Nah. You can bring anyone you want, so. I was assuming you’d bring your friends.”
“Ah, I see.”
You didn’t mean to sound disappointed. You truly aren’t. But Yoongi pushes up to comfort you anyway, planting kisses along your skin, your neck, and finally your lips.
“It won’t be the only one,” he promises. “We got time.”
“Duh,” you giggle. “And I’ll be at all of them. Whether you like it or not.”
Yoongi regards you before laying his weight back on your chest. And you find it strange how familiar his body already feels. How you’re already attuned to every way his legs fit against your own, or how you would know it’s him solely based on how his chest molds with yours.
You start mindlessly caressing his hair, fingers weaving through a dark sea of strands before smoothing over its surface.
And you start to hum.
It’s not really any song, just notes you start stringing together at random. You build up before you dip back down, staying in a comfortable middle range and dancing between similar tones.
You stop from time to time, trying to figure out what would sound best next and changing up the cadence. Always coming back to a central theme because it’s what you deem best.
And you’re so comfortable that you completely forgot he’s lying right under your chin.
“Shit, was I too loud?”
He just shakes his head, arm pressing a bit more into your side.
“Not at all.”
So you keep going, humming more familiar tunes and phrases, softly giggling when Yoongi huffs at the way you drum on his head.
And that’s how the night goes on, with you at peace and him in your embrace.
Never noticing how the shirt you're wearing collects rain.
When dawn breaks, you part with one final, heavenly kiss.
Yoongi watches until you get in the ride he politely called for you, and you spend the whole drive with eyes filled with light.
You can do this. Just a little longer, he said.
For him, you can do anything.
But when you get home, your brother occupies the foyer as soon as you open the front door.
And you feel the world shatter and crash at your feet.
“I think,” he states, “There’s something you wanna tell me.”
—
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tbc. :)
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a ha ha... what do we think/like! | wanna support with a 🍊?
A/N: i’m so swirly-eyed that i don’t even know what to say here other than i’m sorry for throwing that ending at y’all! busted pt. 2 is gonna be its own huge part at this point so i had no choice but to end it here (originally it was gonna end before they went back to yoongi’s but i love y’all too much dlkfjdsklf)
A/N 2: gonna say this again: enormous thank you to everyone supporting this whole journey, whether that’s liking/commenting/reblogging/messaging, recommending this series to people, telling me how it makes you feel or what it means to you, or even wanting a physical copy of the series like😭 that’s surreal to me and makes me wanna keep working harder.
A/N 3: as far as feedback, i would absolutely love any type y’all wanna give. this chapter took all of my brainpower and the next one is gonna take just as much haahahahdksfks so any encouragement would be wonderful!
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